Marrying The Ex-Fiancé's Ruthless Mafia Brother
My fiancé left me standing alone at the podium during our rehearsal dinner to rush to the side of a woman whose only illness was a desperate need for attention.
He humiliated me in front of the heads of the Five Families, abandoning our alliance to scoop his "dying" mistress off the floor.
I didn't cry. I didn't run. I walked straight to the head table, to the most terrifying man in the city—his older brother, the Don.
"The Woodward family owes me a husband," I declared calmly.
An hour later, I was married to the Capo dei Capi. But my ex-fiancé didn't accept his demotion.
He kidnapped me, strapping me to a chair in a soundproof basement.
For three days, he drained my blood pint by pint to "save" his mistress, Jaidyn, who watched me fade while she casually ate an apple.
"Take another bag," she ordered, smiling at my agony. "She still has too much fight in her."
As the cold crept up my chest and my vision blurred, I realized I was going to die for a lie, drained dry by a madman.
Then, the steel door detonated.
Through the smoke and debris walked my husband, not with a ransom, but with a serrated knife and a promise to burn them alive.
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Chapter 4
Eloise's POV
Consciousness returned to me in a thick fog of damp concrete and the acrid stench of bleach.
I instinctively tried to move my hands, but the zip ties bit deeply into my wrists.
I looked down to find myself strapped to a chair, sitting in what looked like a basement retrofitted into a makeshift operating room.
A surgical light hung directly above me, the glaring beam blinding me.
"She's awake." Holden's voice.
He stepped into the light. He had shaved his head. He was wearing a white doctor's coat over his tactical gear. The getup was grotesque-like a child playing surgeon with the intentions of a butcher.
"Where are we?" I rasped.
"Somewhere Alphonse can't find us," Holden said. He didn't look at me; he was busy laying out instruments on a metal tray. Needles, IV tubing, scalpels. "He thinks you ran away. Jaidyn left a note, perfectly forging your handwriting. It was very convincing."
"He won't believe it," I said, my voice growing a fraction stronger. "He knows I never run."
"He knows you're a spoiled princess," Holden turned to me, his eyes bloodshot and unhinged. "And he knows you absolutely loathe this marriage."
"You are the one I loathe," I corrected him, holding his gaze. "I respect him."
Holden's face twisted into an ugly sneer. He picked up a thick needle, the metal glinting menacingly under the harsh light.
"Jaidyn is sick, Eloise. Very sick. Her heart... it's failing. The stress from you attacking her finally pushed her over the edge."
"I never laid a hand on her," I said, struggling against the plastic ties. "She's playing you, Holden. She's been playing you for ten years."
"Shut up!" He slammed a hand on the tray, making the instruments clatter. "She needs a blood transfusion. It's the only way to keep her strength up until I can source a compatible heart donor from the black market. Your blood type is a match. O-negative. The universal donor. Isn't that ironic?"
The door opened.
Jaidyn walked in.
She looked radiant, her cheeks flushed with a healthy color. She looked perfectly fine. She was even eating an apple.
"Is she ready?" Jaidyn asked, taking a loud, crisp bite of the fruit.
I stared at her in sheer disbelief. "You're eating. You're walking. You are perfectly fine."
Jaidyn winked at me. She literally winked.
"Holden, I feel so weak," she cooed, her voice instantly dropping to a frail whisper. She leaned against the doorframe, letting the apple slip from her hand. "I feel like... I'm going to pass out."
Holden rushed to her side instantly, abandoning me. "Sit down, baby. I'm starting the procedure now. I'll get the blood for you."
He guided her to a plush armchair in the corner. She sat down, flashing me a knowing smirk over his shoulder.
"Holden, look at her!" I screamed, thrashing against the chair. "She's playing you! She's jealous of me, and she wants to bleed me dry!"
Holden marched back to me. He grabbed my arm, roughly swabbing the inside of my elbow with alcohol.
"You don't get a say in this," he growled. "You lost the right to speak the second you tried to kill an angel."
"She's not an angel," I whispered. "She's a succubus."
Without a hint of hesitation, he plunged the needle into my vein.
I gasped. The pain was sharp and intense. Dark red blood surged through the tubing, flowing at an alarming rate into the collection bag hung on the IV pole.
"Comfy?" Jaidyn asked from her corner.
"Go to hell," I spat.
She giggled. "Your husband isn't coming. No one is coming."
I watched helplessly as my life force drained from my body, filling the plastic bag. A deep chill set into my bones. My vision began to blur, the edges of the room turning fuzzy.
But I didn't beg. My maiden name was Bowers. My married name was Woodward.
I wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of a single scream.
Three days.
I spent three agonizing days handcuffed to that chair.
Holden had drained three bags of blood from me.
I felt incredibly heavy, trapped in an endless spell of dizziness. I was severely dehydrated, surviving on mere sips of water and dry crackers, just because Holden wanted my blood kept "pure."
Jaidyn sat in the corner, idly flipping through a fashion magazine. She was hooked up to an IV tube that supposedly led somewhere. The saline solution was just dripping onto the floor behind her chair, pooling on the concrete, but Holden was too obsessed with monitoring my drip rate to even notice.
"She looks pale," Jaidyn said, bored. "Maybe drain another pint, just to be safe."
"That might kill her," Holden muttered. He was in a daze, his eyes bloodshot. He hadn't slept, entirely consumed by his twisted medical fantasy. "If she dies, the supply dries up."
"If she dies, we dump the body and flee the country," Jaidyn said coldly. She stood up and sauntered over to me. She scrutinized my face-the dark circles under my eyes, my cracked lips.
She smirked. "You don't look much like a Mafia Queen right now, Eloise. You look like a junkie."
"And you," I rasped, "look like a cheap whore in borrowed clothes."
Jaidyn's expression hardened. She reached out and brutally jammed the needle deeper into my arm.
A sharp pain shot up to my shoulder, and I let out a groan.
"Holden, get another bag," she ordered. "She still has way too much fight in her."
"Okay," Holden said. He was nothing but a puppet, a weapon she pointed and fired. "One more."
He reached for a fresh bag.
I closed my eyes. I was destined to die right here.
Alphonse.
I thought of his dark eyes, the way he had looked at me at the wedding.
One hour. If you don't walk out, I'm coming in.
That deadline had passed days ago. He didn't come. Maybe Holden was right. Maybe he truly believed I had run away.
Holden hooked up the new bag. The pull started again. A cold wave washed over my chest.
Suddenly, there was a sound.
Not from inside the room, but from above.
A thud. Heavy. Like a body hitting the floor.
Holden froze. "What was that?"
"Probably just the wind," Jaidyn said, but her voice trembled. "Hurry up and finish this."
Holden tensed, his hands visibly shaking.
"Don't worry," Jaidyn insisted. "Alphonse isn't coming."
"There's no love between him and Eloise. It's just a transaction."
Another muffled thud. Then the sound of splintering wood.
Holden snatched a gun from the tray. "Stay here."
He moved toward the door.
Before he could even reach it, the steel door exploded inward.
It wasn't kicked open; it was blown off its hinges by C4. The room instantly filled with acrid gray smoke.
Holden fired blindly into the haze. Bang! Bang!
A silhouette emerged from the gray mist. A titan. A demon.
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8.5
Apex Bloom
8.5
Apex Bloom
This is the definitive "Rags to Riches" journey of a woman who was treated as disposable, only to return and conquer the most dangerous man in the underworld. Apex Bloom isn't just a title; it is Franco's survival game-a lethal, high-stakes gauntlet designed to chew up the weak and spit out the broken. Lolita wasn't supposed to survive it; she was supposed to be another casualty. Instead, she broke the game and took the man who created it.
The Disposal
Lolita begins as a woman discarded. Betrayed by her husband, Lyle, she is stripped of everything and thrown into the gutters of London. She is left with nothing but her wits in a world designed to erase her. Lyle didn't just leave her; he disposed of her like a spent asset, assuming she would quietly disappear. He was wrong.
Entering the Game: Franco Rossi
In the wreckage of her life, Lolita is forced into the Apex Bloom-the brutal survival game orchestrated by Franco Rossi. Franco is the underworld's apex predator, a man who believes in a world of absolute Darwinian ruthlessness. His game is designed to test the limits of human endurance, and he expects Lolita to be a pawn, a victim, or a fleeting distraction.
Breaking the Architect
Lolita doesn't just play Franco's game; she dismantles it. Using her brilliant mind and a newfound, weaponised confidence, she turns the Bloom into her own instrument of ascent. But her most calculated victory is over Franco himself.
Through an intoxicating display of dominant power and erotic prowess, Lolita targets the man behind the machine. She doesn't just win; she breaks Franco's stoic, masculine code, forcing a full surrender of his will. She seduces the power away from the enforcer, turning the architect of the game into her most devoted subject. She proves that her dominance isn't just about force-it's about a total, soul-deep conquest that leaves the city's most dangerous man kneeling at her feet.
The Rags to Riches Ascent
The journey from a discarded wife to the Queen of the Apex Bloom is paved with the ruin of those who underestimated her. Lolita uses her sexuality and her intellect as twin blades, seizing the wealth and the territories of the men who thought they were players. By the time the dust settles, she has achieved unimaginable riches and undisputed authority, standing at the head of an empire built on the shattered remains of Franco's former life.
The Final Sovereignty
The book concludes with Lolita standing at the absolute summit. Her marriage to Franco in the Cotswolds is the ultimate victory lap-a coronation where the man who once ran the game now serves its new Queen. They are bound by blood and law, but it is Lolita who holds the reins.
The story ends with The Syndicate, the global masters of the underworld, watching in shock. They thought they were dealing with another street-level syndicate; instead, they have found a woman who took the most lethal survival game in existence and made it her own.
7.5
For six years, Isabella Rossi used her family's immense wealth to save her husband's Mafia empire from bankruptcy while he fought on the front lines.
Her reward? Don Damien Moretti returns with a mistress, a secret son, and a demand: Accept them, and keep paying the bills.
He expects her to swallow her pride. Instead, Isabella closes her checkbook. She demands a divorce, cuts off their funding, and leaves his "glorious" empire to starve.
But a Queen stepping down draws wolves. Enter Giovanni Falcone-the ruthless, untouchable King of the New York Underworld. He doesn't want her money; he wants her.
Now, her ex-husband is begging for her back. But Isabella? She's too busy building her own empire-and watching his burn.
9.0
For four years, I traced the bullet scar on Chace’s chest, believing it was proof he would bleed to keep me safe.
On our anniversary, he told me to wear white because "tonight changes everything." I walked into the gala thinking I was getting a ring.
Instead, I stood frozen in the center of the ballroom, drowning in silk, watching him slide his mother's sapphire onto another woman's finger.
Karyn Warren. The daughter of a rival family.
When I begged him with my eyes to claim me, to save me from the public humiliation, he didn't flinch. He just leaned toward his Underboss, his voice amplified by the silence.
"Karyn is for power. Ember is for pleasure. Don't confuse the assets."
My heart didn't just break; it incinerated. He expected me to stay as his mistress, threatening to dig up my dead mother’s grave if I refused to play the obedient pet.
He thought I was trapped. He thought I had nowhere to go because of my father’s massive gambling debts.
He was wrong.
With shaking hands, I pulled out my phone and texted the one name I was never supposed to use.
Keith Mosley. The Don. The monster under Chace's bed.
*I am invoking the Blood Oath. My father’s debt. I am ready to pay it.*
His reply came three seconds later, buzzing against my palm like a warning.
*The price is marriage. You belong to me. Yes or No?*
I looked up at Chace, who was laughing with his new fiancée, thinking he owned me.
I looked down and typed three letters.
*Yes.*
8.1
My fiancé, the ruthless Mafia Underboss, tore my dead mother's necklace from my throat and fastened it around another woman's neck.
"Diana needs it," Arthur said, his eyes cold. "My blood remembers loving her. It calms her anxiety."
He was referring to the bone marrow transplant that saved his life. Diana was connected to the donor, and Arthur believed his new blood made him belong to her.
I became a ghost in my own home, forced to watch him crown a usurper.
When Diana faked a fall at a gala, accusing me of pushing her, Arthur didn't hesitate. He decided to "discipline" me publicly to teach me respect.
He raised the whip.
"Arthur, please, I'm pregnant!" I screamed, shielding my stomach.
"Don't lie to me," he spat, and the lash came down.
I lost our baby on that cold marble floor in a pool of blood. He didn't believe me. He stepped over my body to take Diana to dinner.
He didn't stop there. He let my grandmother die in the ER to tend to Diana's bruised nose. He even dug up my grandmother's grave because Diana wanted the view for a garden.
I finally fled, vanishing into the night.
It wasn't until months later, when he found the autopsy report of our unborn child and the toxicology results proving Diana had been drugging him, that the fog lifted.
He tracked me down to a small town, where I was finally healing with a good man.
The feared Underboss fell to his knees in the pouring rain, holding the whip he had used on me, shaking violently.
"Beat me, Ella," he begged, tears mixing with the mud. "Hurt me. Make us even."
I looked at the monster I used to love and dropped his ring into the dirt.
"You can't bring back the dead, Arthur," I whispered. "And you are dead to me."
9.2
My husband, a ruthless mafia Capo, brought his pregnant mistress to our anniversary party. He then ordered me to give her a blood transfusion, knowing my heart condition could kill me. As my life drained away, I knew my nine-year marriage was finally over.
It was my ninth wedding anniversary, and I stood in an expensive gown, watching Dominick Reyes, a feared mafia Capo, celebrate with our guests. But the celebration wasn't for us; Dominick had brought Chastity, his pregnant mistress, and then publicly ordered me out of our master suite. Chastity, who had faked her pregnancy, then framed me for an attack. Dominick forced me to give a blood transfusion to Chastity, knowing my heart condition made it potentially fatal. As my blood drained from my veins, sustaining the woman who had stolen my life, I felt my consciousness fading, hoping I would not wake up.
When I woke, Dominick had already paraded Chastity to a gala. He had drained me, used me, and then abandoned me in a hospital bed, breaking his promise of a divorce. I was nothing more than a debt payment, a pawn in his brutal game. Knowing he would never truly let me go, I calmly called a trusted contact. I would disappear from his world, become someone new, and this time, Dominick Reyes would pay.
7.4
In a world ruled by guns, secrets, and blood-soaked loyalties, love is the most dangerous currency of all.
Alessandro De Luca is the unseen king of a global cartel-ruthless, brilliant, and feared across continents. His word is law, his mercy nonexistent. Until one night, one woman, and one mistake unravel everything he has built.
Elena Hart is innocent but unbreakable, drawn into the underworld through a debt she never created. She should have been collateral-nothing more. Instead, she becomes his weakness.
As enemies close in and betrayal festers within the cartel, Alessandro must choose between the empire crowned in blood... or the woman who threatens to destroy it.
Love was never part of the plan.
Survival was.
And in this world, both demand a price.