My Husband Sold Me to the Don

My husband, Hudson Higgins, used my dowry to buy his way into the Chicago underworld while his family treated me like a servant in my own home. I endured their insults for the sake of my five-year-old daughter, Josie. But then, the unthinkable happened. I found Josie's small, lifeless body by the garden fountain, while my sister-in-law Karly and mother-in-law Eleanor stood by, complaining about their party plans. "She was just too naughty," Karly sneered, adjusting her pearls over my dead child. When I turned to Hudson for help, he looked at me with dead eyes and told me it was just her fate. In that moment of absolute grief, I remembered the words of the ruthless Don Damien Falcone: "Your husband is a man who knows how to close a deal." The truth sliced through me like a blade. Hudson hadn't just ignored the Don's interest in me; he had actively sold me to the Devil of Chicago to buy his seat at the table. He let his family punish me for the very sin he committed. I had lost everything-my dignity, my mother, and now my baby-all sacrificed for a man who traded his wife's body for power. The sorrow in my chest evaporated, replaced by a scorching, blinding thirst for a blood vendetta. After lunging at Hudson and feeling the world explode into white, I opened my eyes to find myself back in the winter of 1928. It was the exact night the nightmare began, and Don Damien Falcone was walking toward me in his penthouse. This time, I won't be the broken bird in his gilded cage. If Hudson wants to use me to climb the ranks, I will use the Don's dark obsession to burn the Higgins family to the ground.

Chapters

Chapter 8

Isabella POV

I looked down at his white-knuckled grip on my hand. The sheer desperation radiating from Hudson was pathetic. He wanted to use my body to ground himself, to prove he still owned something while the Don's silence stripped him of his sanity. He was trying to mask his possessive jealousy as a husband's need, but I knew better. He was terrified of the phantom touch of Don Damien Falcone on his property.

I slowly, deliberately pulled my hand from his grasp.

"Hudson," I murmured, injecting a perfect note of wifely apology into my voice. "Josie has been waking up in the middle of the night crying. She needs me. I can't leave her alone."

His jaw clenched, the rejection hitting him like a physical blow. But he couldn't argue against his own daughter without sounding like a monster. More importantly, he didn't have the courage to force the issue while his standing with the Falcone family was so precarious. Defeated, his shoulders slumped, and he turned back to his spilled whiskey.

The next morning, the suffocating tension in the townhouse finally snapped.

I was in the nursery, sitting on the plush rug and building wooden blocks with Josie, when heavy footsteps echoed in the hall. One of Hudson's low-level associates appeared in the doorway, breathless and wide-eyed.

"Mr. Higgins," the man panted as Hudson stepped out of his bedroom, still wearing his silk robe. "A message from Mr. Solis. He wants you at the Falcone private club downtown tonight. For a drink."

Hudson's face transformed. The sickly pallor of fear vanished, replaced by a blinding, arrogant ecstasy. Frederick 'Freddie' Solis. The Falcone family's Consigliere didn't just invite Associates for drinks. To Hudson, this was his coronation. This was the promotion he had tried to buy with my flesh.

"Get the car ready!" Hudson barked, not even bothering to dress properly before rushing down the hall, his mind already drunk on the illusion of power.

I pulled Josie into my lap, my heart hammering against my ribs. Freddie's summons meant Damien was finally making his move. But this was wrong. In my past life, there were no polite invitations for drinks. Freddie's men had simply kicked down the door and dragged me away. Damien was altering the rules of the game. He had investigated me, and now he was using his Consigliere to handle Hudson first. The unpredictability of the Don's new strategy sent a chill down my spine, but it also confirmed one thing: I had his attention.

That night, the master bedroom felt like a tomb waiting for a corpse.

When Hudson finally returned from the club, the arrogant swagger from this morning was entirely gone. He looked like a man walking to the gallows.

"Take Josie to the nursery," he ordered the nanny, his voice hollow and trembling.

I sat at the vanity, wearing a silk nightgown, pretending to brush my hair with sleepy indifference. Through the brass-rimmed mirror, I watched him sit heavily on the edge of our bed. He buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking. It took him a few moments to force the tears, pinching his thigh until his eyes were bloodshot.

"Isabella," he choked out, playing the role of the broken, tragic hero to perfection. "I... I don't know how to say this."

I turned around, letting the hairbrush fall to my lap. "Hudson? What's wrong?"

He looked up, his face a mask of fabricated agony. "It's the Don. Damien Falcone." He swallowed hard, making sure I saw his 'pain'. "Freddie told me tonight. The Don... he saw you at the club. He wants you, Isabella. He demands that I give you to him."

I stared at him, letting the silence stretch. He was shifting the blame entirely, painting his greedy, calculated transaction as a tyrannical Don's Command. He wanted me to believe he was a victim of the Mafia's absolute power, just like me.

"No," I whispered, letting my voice tremble as I stood up, playing the terrified, devoted wife. "Hudson, I'm your wife. You can't."

"I have no choice!" he cried, standing to grab my shoulders. "It's a command! If I refuse, he'll kill me. He'll kill all of us! It's for the survival of this family!"

I let a tear slip down my cheek, masking the cold, burning hatred in my chest. "Then we leave," I pleaded, gripping his lapels, looking up at him with wide, desperate eyes. "We take my dowry and we run. We can go to a small town in Ohio, far away from Chicago. We can hide from him, Hudson. Please."

Continue to next part

I shattered my knee jumping in front of a silver bullet meant for him. The poison seeped into my marrow, putting my wolf into a coma and leaving me crippled. I thought my sacrifice would secure his love forever. Instead, five years later, Brennan stood in a warehouse while a Rogue held a silver-laced dagger to my throat. Beside me sat Debbi, his mistress—a spy who had staged the whole kidnapping. "You can only save one," the kidnapper sneered. Brennan didn't even hesitate. He looked me in the eye, his gaze cold and devoid of the bond we once shared. "I choose Debbi," he said. He walked out with her in his arms, leaving his Fated Mate to bleed out on the concrete floor. As the blade dug into my skin, I felt the mate bond snap. He thought I died in the explosion that followed. He spent weeks howling in grief when he finally realized Debbi was a traitor and he had killed the only woman who truly loved him. But he was wrong. I didn't die. A federal agent pulled me from the fire, and the trauma didn't kill my wolf—it woke her up. A year later, Brennan walked into a small bistro in Italy, looking for redemption. He fell to his knees when he saw me standing there, healed and glowing with the aura of a White Wolf. "Alyssa," he wept, reaching for me. "I'm so sorry. I'll do anything." I looked him dead in the eye, my gaze icy blue. "Get out," I said. "We don't serve traitors here."

Mafia Romance Werewolf

8.0

His Vow Broke, Her Empire Woke

8.0

I was the perfect Mafia wife, my dowry the foundation of my husband's ambition. I paid for his Yale degree, his tailored suits, and the very mansion he called his own. My reward? He paraded his mistress into my bedroom and declared her his second wife, expecting me to silently finance their affair. They thought they had broken a merchant's daughter. They forgot I was raised by wolves. Armed with a blood chit—a life debt owed to my family by the most feared man in Chicago—I walked into the lion's den. I went to Damien 'The Wraith' Falcone, the Dark Don who rules the Outfit with an iron fist, to demand a simple annulment. But the King of Chicago isn't interested in simple transactions. He saw the steel beneath my silk, the vendetta burning in my eyes. He granted me my freedom, but at a price: my allegiance. Now, I'm a pawn in his lethal game of thrones, caught between a treacherous husband I swore to destroy and a ruthless Don who looks at me with a terrifying, possessive hunger. In a city built on loyalty and betrayal, I'm about to teach them all that a queen's wrath is the deadliest weapon of all.

Mafia Modern Romance

9.6

My Best Friend's Dad Married Me

9.6

When the boy I had loved in silence for five years dropped to one knee and proposed to the very girl who had bullied me, the entire room burst into laughter at my expense. "That fat, ugly Lydia Prescott actually thinks she has a shot with a mafia boss?" In a single night, I became the city's favorite punchline. I fled in humiliation. The next time I appeared, I had transformed. The weight was gone, and so was the ridicule. I stunned everyone into silence. Miles Calloway begged through tears for another chance, but I simply slipped my arm through the arm of the mafia godfather beside me and smiled. "Sorry. I'm married." The man rumored to be cold-blooded and untouchable pulled me closer and declared with chilling certainty, "Lydia is my wife." The room erupted. Only my best friend, Annie Sinclair, gasped, "Lydia, you seriously locked down my dad?"

Mafia Modern Romance

7.4

Reborn: The Lethal Ex-Wife's Bloody Return

7.4

I was the wife of Damien Valenti, the most ruthless mafia Don in Chicago. But to cement his power and marry a rival family's daughter, he exiled me to the slums without a single dime. "Stay not as my wife, Izzy, but as my whore." That was his final ultimatum before dumping me out of his black SUV like trash. Terrified of losing me, my five-year-old son, Angelo, secretly hid in the car to follow me. Two days later, in a squalid Indiana motel, Angelo caught severe pneumonia. I had no money and no doctor. In sheer desperation, I sliced my own wrist with broken glass, pressing my bleeding arm to his pale lips, begging him to drink and live. But my little boy died in my arms. Meanwhile, hundreds of miles away, Damien was sipping vintage champagne with his new bride, casually dismissing the life of his own flesh and blood. The grief turned me into a monster. I spent twenty years clawing my way through the underworld to destroy his empire, only to die with a bullet in my chest. I gave him my absolute devotion, yet he traded our family for political power without a single ounce of hesitation. Opening my eyes again, I was back in that hellish neon-lit motel room. Angelo was burning with fever and fighting for air, but he was still breathing. This time, I wasn't the naive girl who loved Damien Valenti. I was a woman holding two decades of their darkest secrets, and my vendetta had just begun.

Mafia Modern Romance

9.2

Secret Heiress: The Mafia Billionaire's Surrogate

9.2

Desperate to save her family from financial ruin, Elena accepts a secretive deal to serve as a surrogate for the cold and dangerous Dante Moretti. Unknown to the billionaire mafia heir, Elena is actually the long-lost daughter of a rival dynasty. As she carries his child, their intense attraction threatens to expose her hidden identity. Trapped between her loyalty to her bloodline and her growing love for a ruthless man, Elena must navigate a world of peril.

Billionaire Mafia Romance

9.4

The Cost of a Lover's Lie

9.4

Elena’s life shatters when she discovers her devoted partner is actually a ruthless mafia heir who used her as a shield. Caught in a lethal underworld war, she must navigate a landscape of betrayal where every kiss was a calculated deception. As rival families close in, Elena faces a harrowing choice: flee the man she thought she knew or embrace the darkness to survive. In this high-stakes game, the price of his lies might be her very life.

Action Mafia Romance

My Husband Sold Me to the Don

Chapter 8

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