My Ex-Husband's Billion-Dollar Regret

The last thing I remember is my fiancé, Cayden, toasting to our future. The first thing I hear when I wake up in a hospital is him telling the city's most feared Don to pretend to be my fiancé instead. A doctor says I have severe neurological damage. Amnesia. Then, my best friend, Vivian—the girl I considered a sister—walks in. Her hand is linked through Cayden's arm, her head resting on his shoulder. They look like a perfect, loving couple. I hear Cayden's frantic voice in the hallway, not even bothering to whisper. "Please, Liam," he begs the Don, Liam Hewitt. "Just do me this one favor. I need a break from all her marriage talk." Then his voice turns slick with temptation. "As her 'fiancé,' you can finally get her to sign the demolition agreement for the Owen manor. She'll do anything you ask." My heart turns to a pile of cold, dead ash. The man I loved and the woman I trusted didn't just betray me. They tried to erase me. When they all step back into my room, I steady myself. I look past Cayden, past Vivian, and fix my eyes on the most dangerous man in the city. A faint smile touches my lips. "Only you feel familiar," I say to Liam Hewitt, my voice a soft, broken thing. "Fiancé," I say, the word tasting like poison and opportunity. "I'm sorry, I seem to have forgotten your name. Take me home."

Chapters

Chapter 5

Julia Owen POV:

Liam lends me his upstairs study to draft the contract. The room is all dark wood and leather, smelling of old books and his cedarwood cologne. He hands me a heavy, cream-colored business card.

"Simon Tate is the Hewitt Outfit's lawyer," he says, his voice neutral. "If you don't trust him, find your own."

I take the card. Simon Tate. The name is infamous. He's known for making problems—and people—disappear.

Half an hour later, a single sheet of paper sits on Liam's massive desk. My terms are concise, focused entirely on protecting the only two things I have left: myself and my manor.

The contract stipulates that I will assist with wedding preparations and appear publicly as his partner for a period not to exceed three months.

Another clause states that the Hewitt Outfit, and Liam Hewitt personally, will permanently relinquish any and all claims to demolish, acquire, or repurpose the Owen manor.

Liam reads it carefully, his face unreadable. Then he suggests two amendments.

"First," he says, tapping the clause about the manor. "A breach of this contract will result in a fifty-million-dollar penalty. Payable to you."

I stare at him, shocked into silence. The highest offer they ever made for the land was less than a tenth of that. Is he insane?

He brings up the second point, a strange hesitation in his voice. "Three months is a bit rushed. Even for a... strategic marriage, it could affect the Hewitt Corporation's stock."

I study him, trying to see the trap.

His eyebrow twitches, but his eyes are clear when he meets my gaze. He suggests a new clause: if both parties agree, the contract can be renewed before the three months are up.

Before I can protest, he adds, "You're single now. Your fiancé cheated on you. Maybe starting a new relationship will help you heal."

I almost choke. Heal? With my ex-fiancé's cousin and rival? The man who tormented me for years?

He presses on, his expression confident. "I don't have time to meet anyone else. Let's just give it three months. If there are no sparks, we part amicably."

The more open he is, the less I understand his real motives. But I have no other options. I'm cornered. I give a reluctant nod.

A wave of relief washes over me as he signs his name with a flourish and stamps the document with a heavy, official-looking seal. He locks both copies in his safe.

As the reality of my situation sinks in, an awkward heat rises in my cheeks. Betrayed by my best friend and my fiancé, I have nowhere to go. My only other option is the manor, with its stray cats and ghosts.

"Um..." I start, unable to meet his eyes. "Can I... can I stay here for a while?"

"Of course," he answers, almost too quickly. "You're my girlfriend now. You live here."

Just then, his phone buzzes on the desk. He glances at the screen, and a frown creases his brow. Cayden.

Liam clears his throat and steps aside to take the call, but in the echoing silence of the villa, I hear every word.

"I was too impulsive today," Cayden says, his voice tight. "I'll have Vivian bring Julia back tomorrow. They're best friends, they've always lived together."

A low chuckle comes from Liam. "Hold on, let me ask her."

Before Cayden can object, Liam raises his voice, pitching it to carry across the room. "Darling, do you want to move back to your friend's place?"

The word "darling" sends a shiver down my spine. "No," I reply, my voice firm.

Liam nods at the phone. "You heard her. My girlfriend doesn't remember anything, so don't bother Vivian." He pauses, letting the silence stretch. "And we just had a heart-to-heart. We've agreed to this marriage."

Cayden is silent for a long moment. When he speaks again, his voice is low and dripping with arrogance. "Don't push it, Liam. She'll remember eventually, and when she does, she'll come running back to me crying. Julia's been with me for three years. No parents, no family. I'm the most important person in her life."

He boasts that a few sweet words will be all it takes for him to get me back.

"And Vivian?" Liam asks, his tone one of mild curiosity.

"Vivian and I were just using each other," Cayden claims with a dismissive laugh. "She likes my skills in bed, I like the thrill. You wouldn't understand. Just keep Julia occupied for me. I'll owe you a big one."

The call ends. Liam turns back to me, and for a second, I see something like pity in his eyes. "You're crying."

I quickly wipe my cheeks, turning my back to him. "Just dust in my eye."

Liam clears his throat. "The windows are closed."

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There are ninety-nine Hermès Birkins sitting in my walk-in closet. To the world, it' s a collection worth millions. To me, it' s a tally of ninety-nine times my husband, Harris, betrayed me. Each bag was a silent apology I accepted to keep our hollow marriage alive. But the hundredth betrayal wasn't fixed with crocodile leather. On the anniversary of my mother's death, I tracked Harris to my family' s private cemetery. He wasn't alone. Jessica, his "first love," was there, standing over the empty plot reserved for my living father, right next to my mother' s grave. They were digging a hole. Jessica smirked, holding a velvet box containing her dead cat and a plaque that read To Arvel, my eternal companion. "It' s just a cat, Cecily," she laughed, tossing her hair. "Don't be so dramatic. Your father won't mind the company. Besides, it shows who Harris really listens to." For years, I accepted the bags and the lies. But desecrating my family's sacred ground? The submissive wife died in that moment. I walked toward them, clutching the evidence that would destroy Jessica' s life and shatter Harris' s world. "Dig it up," I commanded, my voice colder than the grave. "Or I will bury you both right here."

Mafia Modern Romance

8.0

Addicted To My Genius Assassin Wife

8.0

My entire family was slaughtered three years ago by Alistair Kirkland, the usurper who stole the underworld throne. I was the only survivor. Smuggled out of New York as a child, I was trained in the shadows to become a flawless weapon. Now, at sixteen, I returned to the city that was supposed to be my graveyard. But the New York I returned to was a suffocating cage. Kirkland didn't just wipe out the Valenzuela bloodline; he branded my few surviving loyalists as traitors. He paraded my men down the streets in heavy iron chains, letting the very people we once protected hurl rocks at them. He bought the doctors, ensuring my wounded soldiers would bleed out in the dark. Even worse, the mother of my only ally—Julian Morgan—secretly sold us out to a Chicago warlord just to keep her archaic grip on power. I stood in the shadows, watching an eleven-year-old boy get his head smashed with a jagged stone just for defending his father's honor. How could the city my grandfather built cheer for our extermination? Why did the old guard prefer to cower and die in the dark rather than fight the monster who stole our home? "Ghosts don't knock on my door, Athena. What do you want?" Julian asked me. I tossed a blood-stained ledger of Kirkland's deepest secrets onto his desk. "I'm here to help you take back what's yours, and burn Alistair Kirkland's empire to the ground."

Action Mafia Modern

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

9.6

He Chose A Fake Heiress Over His True Queen

9.6

I waited seven years for Jax Vetti, the youngest Capo in New York, to finally claim me. Instead, five minutes before our scheduled engagement, he called me a burden behind a velvet curtain. Standing on the center stage of the Gala, he didn't reach for my hand. He took the hand of Chloe Davenport, his rival’s daughter, and announced to the underworld that she was carrying his heir. When the explosion tore through the ballroom moments later, Jax didn't hesitate. He threw his body over Chloe, shielding her completely, and dragged her to the safe room. I was left behind, exposed and helpless, until a massive crystal chandelier crashed down, crushing my legs and slicing my throat. While I lay bleeding out on the cold floor, Jax returned. He looked at my shattered body not with horror, but with disgust. "You're a liability, Savvy," he sneered, ordering his guards to dump me in the courtyard like trash so I wouldn't upset his pregnant fiancée. I clutched the bullet casing he gave me years ago—a blood oath he swore would bind us forever. He had promised to protect me, but tonight, he stepped over my broken body to comfort the woman who was secretly plotting his demise. His second-in-command found me before the cold took me. "He's lost his mind," Ben whispered, scooping me up and driving me to a private jet bound for Sicily. I didn't die that night. But the girl who loved Jax Vetti did. Six months later, I returned from the dead. Not as his victim, but as the woman who would turn his wedding into a funeral.

Billionaire Mafia Romance

8.7

I Was Never His Real Wife

8.7

My little brother's heart monitor was screaming its final warning. I called my husband, Dante Volkov, the ruthless underworld king whose life I'd saved years ago. He had promised to send his elite medical team. "I'm handling an emergency," he snapped, then hung up. An hour later, my brother was dead. I found out what Dante's "emergency" was from his mistress's social media. He had sent his team of world-class surgeons to deliver her cat's kittens. My brother died for a litter of cats. When Dante finally called, he didn't even apologize. I could hear her voice in the background, asking him to come back to bed. He even forgot my brother was dead, offering to buy him a new toy to replace the one his mistress deliberately crushed. This was the man who had promised to protect me, to make my high school tormentors pay. Now, he was holding that very tormentor, Seraphina, in his arms. Then came the final blow: a call from the clerk's office revealed our seven-year marriage was a sham. The certificate was a forgery. I was never his wife. I was just a possession he was tired of. After he left me to die in a car crash for Seraphina, I made one call. I texted a rival mob heir I hadn't spoken to in years: "I need to disappear. I'm calling it in."

Mafia Modern Romance

8.9

Taming The Mafia Boss - Book 1

8.9

Marco Falcone is the new boss of the Camorra mafia, raised his entire life to take this position, with his training beginning early. He endured the worst atrocities and committed many monstrosities, earning the reputation as the Demon of the Camorra. When a union agreement with the Cosa Nostra is rejected, and they decide to give the Don's daughter in marriage to a rival mafia, Marco makes a decision. Angela Mancini never had the life she dreamed of; she was shaped and taught how to behave, how to be the perfect mafia wife. She knew it was only a matter of time before her father pushed her into an arranged marriage. But she never imagined she would be kidnapped on her big day by the Camorra boss himself, the most feared and ruthless man in the mafia. He didn't expect the innocent and virginal princess to drive him wild with attraction. Meanwhile, she is willing to do anything to avoid being destroyed by his monstrous nature. But how could they escape their own hearts?

Mafia Modern Romance

My Ex-Husband's Billion-Dollar Regret

Chapter 5

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