Jilted By The Heir, Married The Don
I was sitting in the Presidential Suite in my heavy silk wedding dress, waiting to marry the heir of the Moretti syndicate to save my family from insurmountable debt.
Then, my assistant handed me the morning tabloid.
My fiancé, Marco, had fled to Paris with a half-dressed chorus girl, declaring to the world that he was breaking his chains.
My father burst into the room, terrified that rival families would slaughter us by midnight, and demanded I go beg the Morettis for mercy.
But the Moretti family's ruthless matriarch and their 'Fixer' had a different plan.
To cover up Marco's cowardice and protect their syndicate's reputation, they decided to tell the press that my bloodline was "impure" and cancel the wedding.
Even Marco's slimy cousin tried to grope me, offering to take me off their hands as his leftover prize.
They were going to nail me and my entire family to a cross of public shame just to save their own pride.
I was nothing but collateral, surrounded by cowards, pawns, and opportunists who were ready to devour me to save their own necks.
But I refused to be the scapegoat for a spineless boy.
If I was going to be a piece on the board, I would be played by the hand of the King.
I gathered my heavy skirt, walked straight into the private parlor of the apex predator himself—Don Dante Moretti—and slammed the tabloid on his mahogany desk.
"Don't cancel the wedding." I looked the most dangerous man in New York dead in the eye. "Marry me."
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Chapter 3
Isabella POV
Dante stepped back, unlocking the heavy mahogany door.
Nonna Elena Moretti entered, leaning heavily on a silver-tipped ebony cane. The air in the room instantly plummeted to freezing. She was a woman carved from Sicilian stone, her obsidian eyes sharp enough to flay a man alive. She swept her gaze across the room, her eyes lingering on me for a fraction of a second before dismissing me entirely as if I were nothing more than a stain on the rug.
She turned to her son. *"Un codardo senza spina dorsale,"* (A spineless coward), she spat in rapid, harsh Sicilian, her voice vibrating with ancient fury. *"Tuo figlio ci ha disonorato."* (Your son has disgraced us.)
Dante remained impassive, a towering monolith of dark power.
Elena didn't wait for his response. She pivoted toward the corner of the room where Sharon 'The Fixer' stood in the shadows. "Sharon. Go to the press downstairs. Announce that the wedding is canceled. Tell them we discovered impure blood in the Rossi lineage. The Moretti family is cleansing its house."
My blood ran cold. It was a death sentence. She wasn't just canceling the wedding; she was going to nail me and my entire family to a cross of public shame to protect her grandson's cowardice.
"No."
The single word left my lips before I could stop it. It was a suicidal move to interrupt a Mafia Elder, but silence meant death.
Elena slowly turned her head, her eyes narrowing into lethal slits. "You dare speak, little girl?"
"Canceling the wedding admits you were deceived," I said, forcing my chin up, refusing to let my voice tremble. I looked straight into the matriarch's eyes. "It is a public confession of weakness. The other families will see that a Moretti heir ran away."
I took a step forward, my heavy silk dress rustling. "The wedding must proceed. But the groom is not that coward." I shifted my gaze to Dante, then back to Elena. "It is him. Don Moretti."
Elena’s grip on her cane tightened, her knuckles turning white.
"This isn't damage control," I pressed on, using the very Mafia logic that governed their bloodline. "This is a ruling. You don't pay for your son's mistake—you declare to New York that the Morettis only accept the absolute strongest. You replace a useless prince with a queen of pure Sicilian blood. That is power."
Silence crashed down on the room. Elena’s expression shifted from disgust to a profound, calculating shock. She stared at me, truly seeing me for the first time, weighing the audacity of my gambit. Slowly, she turned her gaze to Dante.
Dante’s slate-gray eyes were already fixed on me, burning with a dark, predatory approval.
"Marco is a failed investment," Dante said, his voice a low, lethal rumble that commanded the room. He looked at his mother. "But this marriage solves the Pietro problem. My cousin is waiting downstairs to capitalize on this humiliation. If I take the girl, I cut the vultures out entirely. I solidify the line."
He stepped closer to me, his massive presence suffocating. "She has the spine. She has the blood. She is fit to be a Moretti."
The hatred for internal traitors outweighed Elena's adherence to tradition. She struck her cane against the floorboards—a judge's gavel falling.
*"Che sia fatto,"* (Let it be done), Elena commanded. She snapped her fingers at Sharon. "Get Atticus. Now."
Within minutes, Atticus 'The Shark' Romano, the family Consigliere, slipped into the room. He carried a black leather folder. There were no negotiations, no reading of terms. We all knew the only two clauses that mattered in this world: absolute loyalty and absolute silence.
Atticus flipped to the last page. I took the gold fountain pen and signed *Isabella Rossi* for the last time. My hand did not shake. Dante took the pen from my fingers, his skin brushing mine—a spark of dangerous heat—and signed his name with brutal, slashing strokes.
Through the thick walls, the faint, haunting chords of the pipe organ began to play. The wedding march.
Elena stepped into my space. She grabbed the delicate lace of my veil, yanking it straight with a violent tug. She leaned in, her ancient breath ghosting over my cheek.
"You are a Moretti woman now," she whispered, her voice a razor blade. "Your womb belongs to this family. Give us an heir without bringing shame to our name. If you fail, I will personally drown you in the Hudson River."
I held her gaze, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. "I understand."
Dante stepped beside me, offering his arm. The fabric of his tailored suit was rough against my bare skin as I slipped my hand through the crook of his elbow. We turned toward the heavy mahogany doors, ready to face the five hundred guests waiting for a groom who no longer existed.
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9.4
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When Michael uncovers a shocking truth, his thirst for revenge turns into a fight for something far more dangerous-his own heart. Now, torn between duty and desire, he must decide: destroy the man he swore to take down or surrender to the one thing he never saw coming.
Love has never been more lethal.
8.6
Mia Romano never wanted the mafia life. The daughter of a ruthless Don, she dreamed of freedom, of love beyond blood-soaked vows. But her world shatters when her father forces her into marriage with Mark DeLuca-his cold, calculating right-hand man. Handsome, loyal, and untouchable, Mark has secretly loved Mia for years, though she has always belonged to another.
Trapped in a loveless arrangement, Mia despises him, clinging to her boyfriend, the one man who ever made her feel normal. But Mark's world is one of power, protection, and unshakable devotion. And when rivals close in, Mia discovers the dangerous fire that burns beneath Mark's calm surface.
As they sleep in separate rooms, jealousy brews, especially when Mark's alluring ex moves into their lives. What begins as hatred slowly twists into longing, obsession, and passion. But in the mafia world, love comes with blood, betrayal, and deadly consequences.
Will Mia surrender to the man she swore she would never love-or will her heart destroy them both? Read to find out.
8.4
To marry the man I loved, I held a shard of glass to my wrist and threatened my guardian, Alois Wyatt. "If you don't let me marry Erick, I will die right here."
The second he reluctantly agreed, the horrifying truth of my past life slammed into me. Erick, the man I’d fought to marry, had never loved me. He’d locked me in a European asylum for three years, tortured me, and left me to die in a fiery car crash.
I dropped the glass and threw myself into Alois’s arms, sobbing that it was all a joke. I begged him to take me home, swearing I'd rather die than marry Erick.
But my sudden change was met with cold suspicion. To him and his friends, I was a snake playing a new, pathetic game, trying to steal his corporate secrets for my pathetic lover.
The most painful part was that they were right. In my past life, I had betrayed Alois, destroyed his reputation, and left him to die a broken man, all for a monster who saw me as nothing more than a tool.
But now, opening my eyes again on the very night my nightmare began, I have a second chance. This time, I will cling to the only man who ever truly protected me, and I will make Erick pay for everything he did to us.
8.4
Aiden Armstrong, CEO of skylight group and boss of the Dark Flood mafia, has a dark fetish for virgins-an obsession that leads him to Avery Kingston.
He was in need of a wife in order to get control of his grandfather's legacy. The Kingston's offered him a proposal, one where both sides benefits. He gets a wife to keep his inheritance and a virgin who was just his type in exchange for a huge sum to aid the Kingston's escape bankruptcy.
Avery, forced into marriage with Aiden, an unknown dangerous looking handsome fellow by her family, soon discovers the journal of her husband's fetish and catches him cheating. She becomes a different and better version of herself vowing to get back at all who had wronged her.
As she builds herself and takes revenge, she finds more secrets about her family, her mom's death and Aiden's past.
Amidst disappointments, plots for revenge and abduction of Avery, Aiden discovers he had fallen in love with her but is it seemed to be a little too late until they were both placed in a situation that was to end both their lives but turned out to be a moment for truth, reconciliation, love and fresh start.
8.9
I've always done as my father commanded-until he sells me to a family in Sicily and I become the property of Sullivan Stone.
*
I wanted her the moment I saw her-feisty, sly, and meant to be broken.
He's everything I always want to stay away from: cold, ruthless, and dangerously intent on having what he wants.
*
I'll train her, tempt her, and mold her until she fits perfectly into my hands.
But what I didn't expect was how easily his darkness would pull me in-how quickly his world would become mine.
*
But when she uncovers the secret that brought her to me, she'll realize survival always demands a price.
Running was never an option. And by the time I understand the truth, I'm already too deep in his game to crawl out.
*
And this time, that price might be our everything!
7.2
Three years ago, I used my family's tech empire to marry Damien Moretti, a ruthless mafia Underboss. I naively thought my devotion could melt his frozen heart.
But a year ago, he paraded his mistress at our family gala just because she had the face of his dead ex.
When my pathetic jealousy boiled over and I stabbed him with a letter opener, he didn't kill me.
Instead, he banished me to the freezing, decaying West Wing of his estate.
For a whole year, I was locked away like a ghost. He flaunted his mistress, orchestrated a hostile takeover of my family's company, and let his maids treat me like garbage.
When I knelt outside his door begging for a divorce, he just gripped my jaw and delivered a death sentence.
"The only way you leave this family is in a coffin."
The naive girl who begged for his love died in that cold room. I finally realized I was nothing but a profitable ledger entry to him.
When he finally opened my door again, expecting to see a broken prisoner, I slapped him across his bleeding face.
"The deal is done. I want a divorce."
I walked straight out into the freezing Chicago rain, secretly swallowed a bottle of emergency contraceptives to kill any chance of carrying his heir, and prepared to tear up his mafia rules myself.