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Reborn: The Lethal Ex-Wife's Bloody Return Novel Cover

Reborn: The Lethal Ex-Wife's Bloody Return

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.
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Chapter 4

Isabella's perspective

Maria carefully took Angelo's meager few pieces of clothing, her hands still trembling, and wiped the mine dust from my son's pale little face.

Before we could even approach the waiting convoy, a sharp, sarcastic voice pierced the oppressive silence.

"What a tragedy, Miss Isabella."

I turned around and saw my aunt's personal maid, Carla, standing beside the armored vehicle. She was wearing a brand-new, crisp wool coat, and her gaze swept over my mud-covered clothes, causing her to wrinkle her nose in disgust. She was Old Lady Moretti's mouthpiece, sent here to make me clearly aware of just how badly I had fallen.

"The general surrendered the Port of Chicago for you," Kara continued with feigned pity. "What a heavy price to pay for a wife who was abandoned. We've prepared seats for you and the young master in the cars in the middle of the convoy. That... is more in line with your current status."

She curled her lips into a cruel and triumphant smile, waiting to see me lower my head in shame.

I didn't blink, nor did I argue. I simply gripped Angelo's small hand and walked straight past her, my boots crunching on the gravel. I bypassed the ordinary sedan and headed directly for the lead bulletproof Cadillac-the vehicle reserved exclusively for those of the highest bloodlines.

Maria, who was always loyal, immediately ran forward and opened the heavy car door for me.

I settled into the luxurious leather seat, pulled Angelo into my arms, and rolled down the tinted window halfway. Kara stood frozen in the dust, her smug expression now replaced by utter resentment.

"Let's go," I said to her, my voice devoid of any warmth. "Don't fall behind."

Kara's face flushed red. "His Excellency Lorenzo Falcone has officially dissolved your marriage! You have no power now!" she retorted sharply, eager to regain control.

I let out a soft, sinister laugh. The empty words written by those self-proclaimed gods were meaningless to a woman who had already witnessed the end of the world. I rolled up the car window, completely shutting out her pathetic existence.

The journey back to Chicago was a blurry silhouette of a gray highway. When the magnificent iron gates of Moretti Estate finally came into view, a heavy gloom settled over me.

The convoy came to a sudden stop.

Through the windshield, I saw a sleek black sedan blocking the entrance. I recognized the man leaning against the hood immediately. Leo. Damian Valenti's most trusted soldier.

The blood in my veins instantly turned cold. In my previous life, Damian's men didn't come to take Angelo today, because by this time, my son would already be a cold corpse.

I pushed open the door and got out of the car, immediately shielding Angelo behind my legs for protection.

Leo straightened up and gave me a polite but stiff nod. "Miss Moretti. I've come on Godfather Valenti's orders. I've come to take young Master Angelo home."

"Go home?" The word was forced out of my throat, filled with venomous hatred. "Damian is a beast who would trade even his own flesh and blood like casino chips. He abandoned us to the wolves, and now he wants his heir back?"

Leo frowned and stepped forward. "This is for Angelo's future, miss. Lord Valenti and Miss Richie-"

"Don't mention her name in front of me." I interrupted coldly, my voice extremely calm yet carrying a chilling pressure. I stared directly into Leo's eyes, at his blind loyalty that would ultimately destroy him. "Go tell Damian that if he dares to lay a finger on my son, I will expose the Valenti family's most shameful and sordid secrets to the entire Chicago Mafia."

Leo froze, his hand instinctively reaching for the holster inside his suit jacket. "Miss Isabella, be rational. Serafina just wants-"

"I know exactly what Serafina wants," I interrupted him again, taking a step closer until I could see his pupils dilate slightly. I lowered my voice and dropped a truth he couldn't comprehend at the moment. "Soon, she will need a loyal man to handle some extremely dark and bloody troubles for her. When that day comes, Leo, you will find that the price of serving her far exceeds your capacity to bear it."

Leo froze. The chillingly certain look in my eyes struck a nerve deep within him, a nerve he himself was unaware of. Without a direct order from the Godfather to wage war on Moretti family territory, he dared not make a move.

He slowly backed away, his eyes fixed on me, before getting into the car.

I watched the Valenti family's car reverse and speed away before turning around. I held Angelo's hand tightly and stepped through the massive iron gates of my grandfather's estate. I had won the standoff at the gates, but the real battle had just begun; I had to arm myself first.

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