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Saved By The Ruthless Rival Don Novel Cover

Saved By The Ruthless Rival Don

For nine years, I was the perfect mafia wife. I laundered Marcus Thorne’s money through my design firm, smiled at his dinners, and ignored the lipstick stains on his collars. I believed in the Omertà of our marriage. I thought my loyalty was my armor. I was wrong. On the night of our anniversary gala, a car lost control and barreled straight toward us in the parking lot. Marcus didn't look at me. Not once. He lunged for his mistress, Izzy, tackling her to safety behind a concrete pillar. I was left standing in the open. The impact threw me like a ragdoll. I lay bleeding on the cold asphalt, my body broken, watching through the haze as my husband frantically checked his mistress for scratches. "My ankle," she whimpered. Without a backward glance, he picked her up and carried her to his limousine, leaving me to bleed out on the pavement. He didn't leave me because he panicked. He left me because I was just a shield he used to protect what he actually loved. As darkness crept in, a shadow fell over me. It wasn't Marcus. It was Julian Croft, his sworn rival. I looked at the empty spot where my husband should have been and made a choice. "Get me to the hospital," I rasped, staring into the eyes of the enemy. "And then help me burn his empire to the ground."
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Chapter 5

Ellie POV

I was drifting in and out of consciousness, caught in the violent flux between the blasting warmth of the heater in Julian's SUV and the bone-deep chill still radiating from the river water.

My vision cleared just enough to bring the chaos outside into focus.

We were still on the access road. Julian hadn't driven away yet. He was standing in the middle of the asphalt, a dark, immovable force facing Marcus.

The air between them crackled, heavy with a violence waiting to snap.

"You let her fall," Julian said. His voice was low, a dangerous rumble that vibrated through the open door and settled in my chest. "You stood there and watched your wife drown."

Marcus laughed, but it sounded brittle, nervous. "She slipped. She's clumsy. And she's dramatic. She probably jumped in to get attention."

"She has stitches in her head and shrapnel wounds in her leg from your negligence two days ago," Julian snarled, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "She is barely standing."

"She's my wife, Croft. This is family business. Back off."

"She's not your wife," Julian said, stepping closer. He was taller than Marcus, broader, and infinitely more lethal. "You made that clear when you announced your engagement to the whore standing next to you."

"Don't you dare talk about Izzy like that!" Marcus shouted, his face twisting in sudden, ugly rage. "Izzy is the future of this family! Ellie is... Ellie is just baggage. She's been dragging me down for years with her silence and her judgment."

I heard him. Every word.

Baggage.

Dragging him down.

I tried to sit up, pain flaring through my ribs like a hot knife. Chloe was beside me instantly, holding my hand, her face pale.

"Don't," she whispered, her eyes wide with fear.

"I need to hear it," I rasped, my throat raw from the river water.

"If you touch Ellie again," Julian said, his voice dropping to a whisper that was somehow louder than a scream, "I will burn your empire to the ground, brick by brick."

Marcus sneered, trying to regain ground he had already lost. "For her? You'd start a war for used goods?"

Julian moved with a terrifying, fluid grace.

His fist connected with Marcus's jaw with a sickening crack that echoed off the trees.

Marcus stumbled back, blood spurting from his split lip.

His bodyguards drew their weapons in a synchronized rustle of leather and steel.

Julian's men leveled their assault rifles instantly.

A standoff.

"Stop!" I screamed.

I forced myself out of the SUV. My legs were shaking uncontrollably, my dress clung to me like a second skin of ice, but I stood.

I walked into the void between them.

"Ellie, get back in the car," Julian said, not taking his lethal gaze off Marcus.

"No," I said. I turned to look at Marcus. He was wiping blood from his mouth, staring at me with pure, unadulterated hatred.

"You want me gone?" I asked him, my voice surprisingly steady.

"I want you out of my life," Marcus spat, flinging the blood from his hand. "Take your things. Take your pathetic little design firm. Just go. If I see you in New York again, I won't be responsible for what happens."

"Is that a threat?" Julian asked, stepping forward.

"It's a promise," Marcus said. He looked at me one last time, his eyes dead. "You're dead to me, Ellie. You and I? We never happened."

He turned to Izzy, who was watching with a mixture of horror and terrified delight. "Let's go."

They got into their car. They drove away.

They didn't look back.

I stood there, shivering in the mud, watching the red taillights disappear.

Julian turned to me. The murderous rage in his eyes vanished, replaced by something I hadn't seen in a long time. Concern.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice rough. "I should have arrived sooner."

"You arrived just in time," I said.

I looked at the road where Marcus had faded into the distance.

I felt lighter. Hollowed out, but lighter.

The ring on my finger felt heavy, like a shackle. I pulled it off. It left a pale, indented band on my skin.

I threw it into the dark water of the river.

"Take me to Maine," I said to Julian.

He nodded once. He helped me back into the car, his hand gentle and warm on my back.

"You're safe now, Ellie," he said.

As we drove away, leaving the city and the wreckage of my marriage behind, I looked out the window at the blurring trees.

I wasn't just leaving a husband. I was leaving a life of silence.

I closed my eyes and finally, for the first time in nine years, I slept without dreaming of cages.

The nightmare was over. The war was just beginning.

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