She Died Once: Now The Mafia Kneels

I was the Mafia Princess of the Wolfe family, engaged to Daniel Marino to unite our powerful syndicates. But during a hit at a speakeasy, we were both gunned down. As my chest was torn apart by a Tommy gun, I looked at my fiancé, expecting him to reach for me. Instead, there was no despair in his eyes, only a twisted, selfish terror. We both died on that floor, but the devil sent us back to the day of my hospital discharge. Instead of finalizing our wedding, Daniel stormed into my father’s study. "I won't marry Isabella. I want Celine." He demanded to break our engagement, claiming he wouldn't be collateral damage in a Wolfe family war, and declared his true love for my sweet, orphaned adopted sister. He thought shedding me would save his life, completely unaware that the assassination was orchestrated by his precious Celine. In my past life, I didn't know she was a rat who sold our patrol routes to rivals and plotted my murder just to take my place. If I hadn't died once, I would have believed her manufactured tears and comforted her. But this time, I remembered everything. I buried the vengeful woman I had become and let my face pale as I pushed open the heavy oak doors. "Daniel? You... you want Celine?" I whispered, forcing a heartbroken tear to fall. This time, I would play the fragile victim, just so I could orchestrate their absolute ruin.

Chapters

Chapter 2

Isabella POV

The silence in the study was heavier than the scent of spilled whiskey and shattered crystal.

My father's broad chest heaved with every breath. The Butcher of Chicago was not a man who made idle threats, and the lethal promise of a Vendetta hung thick in the air. Yet, Dante stood his ground. He adjusted the cuffs of his tailored suit, his posture radiating an unearned, arrogant certainty. He truly believed his knowledge of our past life made him untouchable.

"I am doing us a favor, Don Marco," Dante said, his voice steady but laced with a foolish condescension. "A marriage without love will only breed resentment. I am saving us both from a miserable future. Eva is the one I want."

The sheer audacity of his words made my blood run cold. He was using the tragedy of our past—a tragedy he helped orchestrate—as a convenient excuse to claim his treacherous prize. He thought I was still the naive girl who would weep and cling to his legs. He thought he was the only one playing the game.

It was time to break his illusion.

I slowly pulled away from my mother's protective embrace. I let my shoulders straighten, wiping the fake, trembling tears from my cheeks. The devastated princess vanished, replaced by the cold, calculating daughter of a Don.

Dante's eyes softened as I stepped toward him. He mistook my composure for resignation. "Izzy," he murmured, his tone dripping with a sickening, rehearsed pity. "Please understand, it's better this way. Don't hold on to something that—"

My palm connected with his cheek before he could finish the sentence.

The crack of the slap echoed through the mahogany room like a gunshot. I had put the entire weight of my body into it, channeling every ounce of the phantom pain from the stiletto he had driven into my heart in our past life.

Dante's head snapped to the side. A stark red handprint bloomed instantly across his pale skin. He froze, his eyes wide with absolute, unadulterated shock.

"The betrothal between the Moretti and Falcone families is dead," I declared, my voice ringing out like striking steel, devoid of any warmth. "I will make sure all of Chicago knows that you, Dante Falcone, are a traditore(traitor) who breaks blood oaths. We are done."

He stared at me, his jaw working silently. This wasn't in his script. The Isabella he remembered would never have struck him, let alone discard him with such icy disdain. Looking at his bewildered face, a dark thought surfaced in my mind. In our past life, his father, Don Vincent, had died under highly suspicious circumstances, paving the way for Dante to seize the Falcone throne. Seeing his ruthless selfishness now, I was almost certain that tragedy had been a calculated patricide.

"You..." Dante breathed, his shock rapidly morphing into a defensive, ugly sneer. He realized he had lost control of the narrative. "Fine. If that is how you want it. But I am not leaving without Eva. I am taking her with me tonight."

"You will not touch a single hair on her head," I hissed, stepping directly into his path. I channeled the fierce, territorial instinct of my bloodline. I wasn't protecting Eva; I was trapping her. But to Dante and my parents, I looked like a fiercely loyal sister defending her kin.

"She belongs with me!" Dante snapped, taking a threatening step forward.

"Get out of my house," my mother, Sofia, intervened, her voice a lethal whisper. She moved to stand beside me, her eyes blazing with maternal fury. "You will leave this estate immediately, Dante, or you will leave in a body bag. You do not get to insult my daughter and then demand to steal my ward."

Dante clenched his fists, glancing between my father's murderous glare and my mother's icy wrath. He was cornered.

"Wait, Mama," I interjected softly, letting a trace of feigned anxiety slip into my voice. "If we throw him out now, he will only spread lies. He will taint Eva's reputation in the streets, claiming she agreed to this madness. She is too timid to defend herself."

My father frowned, the protective patriarch instantly considering the honor of his household. "What are you suggesting, Isabella?"

"We bring Eva here," I said smoothly, looking my father dead in the eye. "Let her face him. Let her tell this traditore(traitor) to his face that she wants nothing to do with his dishonorable schemes. We end his delusions tonight, permanently."

My mother nodded slowly, a fierce, approving light in her eyes. "A brilliant idea. We will crush this insult right here." She turned her head toward the shadows near the door, where my loyal bodyguard stood silently. "Bianca, go fetch Miss Eva."

Continue to next part

On our wedding night, my Fated Mate, Alpha Cedric, left our bed to care for his mistress. He told me our marriage was just an obligation. But the real betrayal came months later on a rooftop. When Rogues demanded a trade, Cedric didn't hesitate. He chose to save Jayden because of her "heart condition," handing me—his pregnant wife—over to the killers. "You are stronger," he said as he pushed me toward them. I fell from the building. I survived, but our unborn pup didn't. Instead of comfort, I woke up to handcuffs. Cedric believed Jayden’s lies that I staged the kidnapping for attention. He threw me into the dungeon, shackling my wrists with silver cuffs that burned my flesh, while Jayden poisoned my food with wolfsbane. He stripped me of my title and dignity, never realizing that the "fragile" woman he protected was the true monster. He didn't know about the glowing rune on my chest counting down the seconds I had left. He didn't know I was the legendary White Wolf, and my time was up. On my final night, I asked for one last ride on the Ferris wheel where we first met. At midnight, as Cedric rushed back to the amusement park, he didn't find a body. He found only my empty clothes and a text message on the seat. "Don't look for me, Cedric. I'm giving my wolf back to the moon." As he watched the security footage, he finally saw me dissolve into stardust and ascend to the sky, leaving him alone in a world that suddenly felt too quiet.

Mafia Romance Werewolf

8.5

Dangerous Love: My Pet Princess

8.5

"And that is the reason why I said those words. I like your fear, not because it is a normal thing. I love it because deep down you are a monster like me, schiava. You fear me on a primal level, you can feel my power and dominance, and you know you aren't the strongest here. So you don't fear Renzo Valentino the human, you fear the monster that lurks inside." My life changed the night of my birthday. What started as a funny dare ended with blood and having a price on my head. I thought Renzo was the hero who saved me that night, but he was the devil who owned me forever. I, Misha Yakov, princess of the Russian mafia became Renzo Valentino's slave. He broke me, tortured me, and molded me into something new, something I hated and craved at the same time. I, Misha Yakov became my master's pet.

Horror Mafia Romance

8.7

He Chose Her Lies, I Chose Revenge

8.7

I was the spare daughter of the Vitiello crime family, born solely to provide organs for my golden sister, Isabella. Four years ago, under the codename "Seven," I nursed Dante Moretti, the Don of Chicago, back to health in a safe house. I was the one who held him in the dark. But Isabella stole my name, my credit, and the man I loved. Now, Dante looked at me with nothing but cold disgust, believing her lies. When a neon sign crashed down on the street, Dante used his body to shield Isabella, leaving me to be crushed under twisted steel. While Isabella sat in a VIP suite crying over a scratch, I lay broken, listening to my parents discuss if my kidneys were still viable for harvest. The final straw came at their engagement gala. When Dante saw me wearing the lava stone bracelet I had worn in the safe house, he accused me of stealing it from Isabella. He ordered my father to punish me. I took fifty lashes to my back while Dante covered Isabella's eyes, protecting her from the ugly truth. That night, the love in my heart finally died. On the morning of their wedding, I handed Dante a gift box containing a cassette tape-the only proof that I was Seven. Then, I signed the papers disowning my family, threw my phone out the car window, and boarded a one-way flight to Sydney. By the time Dante listens to that tape and realizes he married a monster, I will be thousands of miles away, never to return.

Action Mafia Romance

7.2

Rebirth of the Mafia Mistress

7.2

My fiancé Jaret Frazier promised to protect me on my nineteenth birthday. By the next year, he had married a Mafia Princess for power and locked me in a hidden apartment as his secret mistress. When his new wife discovered I was pregnant, she didn't file for divorce. She sent her enforcers to my bedside. They held me down while a back-alley butcher tore my unborn son from my womb. Jaret never came to save me. For ten years, I rotted in that gilded cage, watching him use my money to become an Underboss while I faded into a ghost. I died alone, completely erased. Then, I opened my eyes. I was back in my own bed, unscarred, the calendar turned back to the year my life was destroyed. Jaret was still just my fiancé, not yet my jailer. And this time, I wouldn't be the one who ended up in a cage.

Mafia Modern Romance

8.6

Remarried To The Ruthless Mafia King

8.6

I found the instruction manual for my own abandonment on a dark web forum while my husband scrubbed the scent of another woman from his skin in the bathroom. The thread was titled "Burden Disposal Strategies." The user, RatKing88, asked a simple question: "How do I dump a loyal wife without triggering a war with the old guard? My parents love her more than me." The replies were brutal. They suggested faking a dangerous mission, forcing a paper divorce for 'asset protection,' and then disappearing with the cash. Moments later, Luca walked out of the bathroom smelling of cheap vanilla perfume and panic. He grabbed my hands, his palms sweating, and spun a clumsy lie about a "Code Red" mission in Sicily. "It is going to be a bloodbath, Sienna," he whispered, his eyes wide with manic energy. "We need to divorce on paper. It is the only way to protect you from the vendettas." I felt a cold rage settle in my gut. He wasn't a soldier going to war. He was a rat running off with his mistress and the family savings, leaving his stroke-ridden father and our daughter with nothing. He planned to wait for his parents to die so he could return for the inheritance. He thought I was just a naive, caged canary who would wait forever. But he forgot that canaries are the first to smell poison in the air. I didn't scream. I didn't expose him. Instead, I looked him in the eye with carefully manufactured sorrow and signed the papers. He thought he was escaping to freedom with a bag full of stolen cash. He didn't realize he had just voluntarily abdicated his throne. And I was going to take it.

Mafia Modern Romance

9.2

Rising From Ash: The Mafia Queen Returns

9.2

To my husband, I was just a political bridge, a treaty with a heartbeat. While I sat alone in our cold estate, hiding the child growing inside me, Dante spent his days comforting his late brother's wife, Vanessa. He treated her like porcelain and me like furniture. The breaking point came the night I went into labor. Dante didn't hold my hand. He ran out of the clinic to comfort Vanessa over a fake emergency, leaving me and his unborn heir alone in the cold sterile room. So, I decided to give him exactly what he deserved: a ghost. I staged my death in the storm, leaving behind nothing but signed divorce papers and a tiny, mud-stained onesie. When Dante returned, he was told I died screaming his name. He spent months digging through the wreckage of the lighthouse with his bare hands, sobbing into the mud, finally realizing he had sacrificed his diamond for a stone. He discovered too late that I wasn't just a submissive wife—I was the secret daughter of Don Stefano, the most dangerous man in Europe. It took him three years to find me again. He fell to his knees at my feet, covered in grime, begging to meet his son. "I will fix this," he wept. "I will give you everything." I looked down at him from the steps of my private jet, flanked by my own army. "You can't fix what you broke, Dante," I said coldly. "If you ever come near my son again, I won't send a lawyer. I will send a war."

Mafia Modern Romance

She Died Once: Now The Mafia Kneels

Chapter 2

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