I Married You For Your Brother’s Face

I married the most ruthless Don in Chicago, but not for love, money, or power. I married Luca Falcone because he was the only man on earth who carried the same DNA as his dead identical twin, Dante—the love of my life. For three years, I played the role of the submissive, obsessed wife. I endured his coldness. I cooked for his mistress, Sofia. I even stayed silent when Sofia pushed me down a flight of stairs in a jealous rage, nearly killing me. Luca thought I stayed because I was weak. He thought the way I stared at his face was adoration. He never realized I was looking right through him, seeing the ghost of the brother he could never live up to. But the moment the second pink line appeared on the pregnancy test, my mission was complete. I had secured the heir. I had brought a piece of Dante back to the world. The vessel was no longer needed. I signed the divorce papers, packed my bags, and vanished into the night while Luca was busy with his mistress. When he finally tracked me down months later, broken and begging on his knees for me to come home, I didn't feel a thing. I looked down at the man who thought he was a King and delivered the final blow. "I never loved you, Luca. I married you for the sperm."

Chapters

Chapter 8

Elena POV

The sound of shattering glass is distinct. It is high-pitched, violent, and absolute.

I was standing by the valet stand outside the auction house when it happened.

Sofia sauntered out, hanging off Luca's arm. She was tossing the crystal ball in the air, catching it, giggling.

"It's so heavy, Luca. What does it even do? It's just glass."

"Be careful with it," Luca said, distractedly lighting a cigarette.

"Oops."

She opened her hands.

Time seemed to warp and slow down.

I watched the sphere fall. I watched it hit the concrete pavement.

It didn't just crack. It exploded.

Shards of quartz skittered across the sidewalk, glittering under the streetlights like ruined diamonds.

"Oh no," Sofia said, her voice flat and entirely unapologetic. "My hand slipped."

I fell to my knees.

I didn't care about the dress. I didn't care about the people watching.

I crawled onto the pavement, gathering the pieces.

Sharp edges sliced into my palms. Blood welled up, mixing with the dust on the quartz until the stones turned a muddy crimson.

"Elena, get up," Luca hissed, looming over me. "You're embarrassing me."

"It's broken," I whispered, my voice trembling. "It's all broken."

"I'll buy you another one," Luca said, stepping closer. He looked at my bleeding hands with disgust masked as annoyance. "It's just a rock. I'll get you a bigger one tomorrow."

I looked up at him.

Tears blurred my vision, but my hatred was crystalline.

"You can't buy another one," I said. "It was one of a kind."

"Everything has a price, Elena."

"Not this."

I stood up, clutching a handful of sharp shards against my chest. The blood stained the silk of my dress.

"I'm taking a taxi," I said.

"Get in the car," Luca ordered.

"No."

I turned and walked away.

For the next three days, a suffocating silence reigned in the Falcone estate.

I didn't speak to him. I didn't look at him.

I moved through the house like a wraith, packing boxes in my mind.

Luca tried to fix it the only way he knew how.

He came home with boxes. Crystal vases. Diamond necklaces. A massive, tacky glass sculpture of a lion.

"Here," he said, kicking the boxes toward me in the living room. "Replacements. Better quality than that junk you cried over."

I didn't even look up from my book.

"You're being a brat," he snapped. "I'm trying here."

"You're trying to buy forgiveness, Luca. I'm not selling."

He stormed out.

That night, he got drunk. His soldiers called me from a bar downtown.

"Mrs. Falcone, the Don is... indisposed. He's asking for you."

"Call Sofia," I said.

"But... he's asking for his wife."

"Then tell him his wife is dead."

I hung up.

I went upstairs and pulled my suitcase out from under the bed.

I packed efficiently. No clothes. No jewelry.

Just the wooden bird. The watch. The bloody shards of quartz wrapped in a silk scarf.

The door banged open downstairs.

Luca was home.

He stumbled into the room, smelling of whiskey and rage. He saw the suitcase.

The air left the room.

"Where do you think you're going?"

He crossed the room in a blur of motion, grabbing my wrist. His grip was bruising.

"Answer me!"

"Vacation," I lied, my voice unnaturally calm. "I'm going to Paris for a week. To shop. To get away from you."

He searched my face, looking for the lie.

"You're leaving me."

"I'm going shopping, Luca. Let go."

His phone rang.

He ignored it.

"You don't take a suitcase for a shopping trip."

"I do when I plan to buy a new wardrobe."

The phone rang again. And again.

He glanced at the screen. Sofia.

"Answer it," I said. "She probably broke a nail."

He looked at me, then at the phone. The alcohol made him slow, confused.

He answered.

"Luca! Help me!" Sofia screamed through the speaker. "There's someone outside my apartment! I saw a gun! Please!"

Luca dropped my wrist.

The suspicion in his eyes vanished, replaced by the instinct to protect what he believed was his.

"I'm coming," he said to the phone.

He looked at me one last time.

"We talk when I get back. You don't leave this house."

He ran out.

I listened to the roar of his engine fading into the distance.

I picked up my suitcase.

"Goodbye, Luca."

Continue to next part

For ten years, I disguised myself as my dead twin brother, fighting bloody mob wars to build the Falcone family's bootlegging empire. When the war ended, I thought I could finally take off the men's suits and be Anya again. Instead, my parents stole my victories to secure my father's power, demanding I disappear forever. When I tried to expose the truth, my family dragged me into a soundproof basement. My younger brother forced a metal funnel past my teeth and poured corrosive chemicals down my throat, dissolving my vocal cords into a blistered ruin. They chained me to a freezing pier, whipped me bloody, and let the men I used to lead spit on me as a jealous traitor. Then, under the guise of a family reconciliation dinner, my mother drugged my wine. While I lay paralyzed but fully conscious on my bed, my brother took heavy iron pliers and crushed all ten of my fingers, bone by bone. They wanted to ensure I could never hold a gun or write the truth again. I had slaughtered for them, bled for them, and craved only their love. In return, they pulverized my body and painted me as a hysterical madwoman just to keep the crown I had won for them. The foolish girl who wanted a family died in that agonizing pain, leaving behind only a ghost. Dragging my mangled, bandaged body into the rival Romano family's charity gala, I collapsed at the feet of their ruthless matriarch. "I invoke the sacred code," I rasped through my chemically burned throat. "I demand a Vendetta."

Action Mafia Modern

9.3

Blooming Under His Shadow

9.3

He is power, control, and consequence. She is everything he never planned for. Lucien Blackwell rules his world through silence and precision, dismantling threats before they speak his name. When betrayal from his own family forces him to tighten his grip, the last thing he expects is her-a florist whose calm presence unsettles him more than any enemy ever has. As unseen eyes close in and his shadow stretches across her life, she refuses to be protected through ignorance or distance. Instead, she chooses awareness, agency, and a place beside the danger. Because some things don't survive darkness. They bloom within it. Blooming Under His Shadow is a slow-burn romantic suspense about power, choice, and the risk of loving a man whose world was never built for light.

Mafia Modern Romance

9.6

Desired By Two Mafias

9.6

Elena is trapped in a dangerous world where two powerful mafia leaders compete for her heart. Torn between a ruthless kingpin and his equally lethal rival, she must navigate a landscape of violence and betrayal. As their obsession intensifies, Elena becomes the prize in a deadly game of dominance. With bullets flying and loyalty tested, she struggles to survive while discovering that being desired by such men comes with a lethal price for everyone.

Action Mafia Romance

8.2

El padre de mis hijos

8.2

After a night of passion with a dangerous stranger, Elena’s life changes forever when she discovers she is pregnant. Years later, her past resurfaces as the powerful mafia leader returns to claim what is his. Caught in a world of violence and betrayal, Elena must protect her children from the shadows of their father's empire. As secrets emerge and enemies close in, she struggles to survive the lethal consequences of their shared history.

Action Mafia Romance

9.2

From Mafia Pawn To The Don's Queen

9.2

It wasn't a gun, but the pen in my hand was going to end my life just the same. Liam, the man I was supposed to marry in a month, pointed to the tablet on his desk. It showed a live feed of my mother’s hospital room. "Sign the confession, Ava," he said, his voice devoid of any warmth. "Take the fall for the embezzlement. Or the funding for her ventilator stops in ten seconds." My heart hammered against my ribs. The crimes weren't mine. They belonged to Chloe, his mistress. But Liam Valenti, the Underboss of New York, was sacrificing me to save her. "She's fragile," he said casually, adjusting his silk cuffs. "She can't handle prison. You're strong. You'll survive." With tears blurring my vision, I signed the document. I signed away my career as a lawyer and my freedom to save my mother. Liam snatched the paper like a prize. He didn't offer comfort. He just smirked. "Good girl. The wedding is still on, of course. You'll look beautiful in the ankle monitor." He walked out to celebrate with his mistress, thinking he had won. Thinking he owned me. But he forgot one crucial detail. I wasn't just his fiancée. I was the one who laundered his money. I knew where every body was buried—literally and financially. The moment the door clicked shut, I stopped crying. I pulled out a burner phone and opened an encrypted app. I wasn't going to jail. I was going to war. I typed three words to the one man Liam feared most. "Execute Protocol Zero."

Mafia Modern Romance

9.7

He Broke Her Heart, She Broke His Bank

9.7

I was the architect of my husband's legitimate empire, the queen to his throne as the Don of a powerful crime family. Our home was our sanctuary, our bed the one sacred place he always returned to. But in the middle of the night, I woke to a woman's moan coming from a guest room that was supposed to be empty. The space beside me was cold; my husband, Brendan, was gone. The woman's voice belonged to Kiya, my protégée—a girl I’d mentored like a sister. Through the door, I heard him call me "a piece of furniture that sleeps soundly." I heard him tell her she possessed something I didn't. Then, a video confirmed the ultimate betrayal: a four-year affair, a pregnancy, and his casual dismissal of me as a business arrangement. He called me a title, but he called another woman's child his heir. He had broken the one rule that held our world together, turning my life's work into ash. He thought I was just a fixture in his grand design, a brilliant mind he could control and discard. He was wrong. There was only one way to escape this agony. I would have every memory of him surgically cut from my mind, erase him from my soul like a cancer, and disappear so completely that not even a ghost of me remained.

Mafia Modern Romance

I Married You For Your Brother’s Face

Chapter 8

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