The Ex-Wife's Deal with the Devil
Kerri Coleman thought her worst nightmare was divorcing Liam Tate - Hollywood's hottest actor and the man she loved in secret.
But when she exposed their hidden marriage, the world didn't crown her his wife... it crucified her as his scandal. Betrayed, penniless, and hunted by Liam's furious fans, she had nowhere left to turn.
Until she met him.
Arlo Frantz. Infamous mafia boss. The man who claimed he could give her back everything she lost. Fame. Power. Revenge.
But his price wasn't money.
It was marriage.
Now, Kerri must decide: will she risk falling into another dangerous union just to destroy the man who ruined her... or will she lose herself to the devil who wants to own her heart?
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Chapter 5
His POV
I hear the door roughly slide open.
Then a wailing man was dragged in and was forced to kneel in front of me.
Puffing a smoke out, I looked down on him, groveling on the floor and crawling towards my feet to beg for forgiveness, but before he could even stain my expensive shoes with his filthy blood, Pierce stopped him by the collar and slammed him back.
"Please... please..." I hear his whimpers.
I see his bloodied nose and his busted lips from the beating he had received from my men, but it isn't enough to pay for the crime he committed.
"I didn't know it was her... her face was covered... please spare me!" He reeks of fear, as he should.
I rest my chin on my hand, thinking about his punishment.
On the outside, I was calm, but inside I was seething with rage.
He touched her.
He dared to put his hands on her and pulled her by the hair.
"Which hand did you use?" I cut in.
My voice was neutral, smooth, almost too soft towards a man who did something worthy of death.
He swallowed hard, choking on his own sobs.
He didn't answer, so I stood up from my seat and moved towards him, my slow footsteps served as a countdown to something inevitable.
My men tightened their grip on him when he planned to run away as he saw me approach, pressing him down hard against the floor.
"I asked a question, or am I talking to a dead man?" I asked, my tone eerily calm.
He finally nodded, "It was... it was my right hand, but I swear, Mr. Frantz, I didn't hurt her."
What I hate the most are people who refuse to own up to their mistakes, even when there was already proof... he should have hid it better.
"The CCTV footage from the bank says otherwise," I stepped on his right hand, slowly crushing it down with my own weight. "I saw her wince in pain, you hurt her," I added.
He tried to suppress his screams, but the pain was too much that he let it slip, tearing through the empty warehouse.
"Please forgive me! Please forgive... I was wrong!" He sounded more desperate, so I lifted my foot and walked back to my seat.
"If you know you did something wrong, justice must be served then," How ironic for me to speak of justice when I have evaded the law countless times.
Relief seemed to wash over the man's face, "Yes, I will serve time in prison-"
"Who said anything about prison?" I stopped him, leaning back against my chair and snapping my finger to gain Pierce's attention.
After working under me for a decade, Pierce already knew exactly what I wanted and immediately brought out a gleaming blade.
In my world, I decide what punishment to give.
"Cut off his right hand," I huffed out.
His tortured screams echoed as Pierce pressed the blade down while the rest of my men pinned him on the floor, their faces expressionless since this is a daily occurrence in our line of work.
The sound of flesh tearing and bones cracking was a symphony to my ears, a music that somehow dimmed the rage I was initially feeling after I found out that this filth of a man had hurt her...
When his hand had fully been cut off, he clutched the stump where it used to be and cried louder.
"Spread the word," I spoke, pulling out her photo from my pocket and sliding it towards his direction. "Anyone who dares touch this woman loses more than their hands next time,"
I snapped my fingers once more, and they dragged him out of my sight, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
Except for Pierce, "Sir," he stood beside me with a crystal glass and I took it, letting the whiskey burn as it slid down my throat. "Mrs. Coleman had gone back to her work immediately after the robbery. She didn't ask for treatment for the injuries she got."
I leaned back, for a long moment, I just sat there and stared at the ceiling.
"Haah, should I just kill her husband?" I let my thoughts run freely, but Pierce was always there to ground me, weighing out the pros and cons of my horrid desires.
"Unfortunately, making Hollywood's biggest actor disappear won't be an easy feat, sir."
He's right, that man seemed to be untouchable nowadays, and I know it's because of her.
Tch.
Such boundless talent wasted on a vermin like Liam Tate.
I should have made her mine in the first place, I should not have allowed him to approach her that day... things would have been different for her, and for me.
So, imagine my fury when I saw the news on TV about her divorce.
Her photo was shown across every screen in the city. A woman suffering from a messy scandal.
She was disheveled, and her eyes were always red from continuous crying, from carrying years of sacrifice only to be discarded aside like trash by the man she built into a star.
The vultures constantly circled around her. Every reporter and magazine vilified her, shredding her reputation, and every fan sharpened their pitchforks and demanded her punishment.
My heart hurt for her but all I could hear that day was blood rushing in my ears and my deafening pulse of excitement.
She's divorced and alone.
Despite her cruel fate, I can't help but smile.
A dangerous smile from a man who had been waiting for so long.
Finally. The moment I had been waiting for had arrived, and the universe served it to me on a silver platter.
Kerri, the woman I desired, the woman that plagued my dreams, is broken, betrayed and vengeful.
Perfect.
Because a woman who has lost everything doesn't need comfort.
She needs a devil.
And I'm the only man wicked enough to play that role for her.
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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.
8.5
Delphine Yenla has learned one thing the hard way; love doesn't just hurt, it breaks you in ways you don't recover from. So she stopped believing in it. She chose independence, control, and a life where no one could get close enough to hurt her again.
And for a while, it worked.
Until Wilson Dan walked into her world.
Cold, composed, and impossible to read, Wilson is the kind of man who never loses control. He does not get involved. He does not make mistakes. And he never lets anyone get close enough to matter.
But she doesn't realize... Wilson is not the kind of man you resist twice.
People don't challenge him.
Delphine does.
From their very first encounter, something shifts. The tension between them is immediate, sharp, unsettling, impossible to ignore. And from the moment he notices her, walking away stops being a choice. Every conversation feels like a quiet battle. Every glance lingers longer than it should. And the more they try to stay in control, the more everything begins to slip.
But this is not just about attraction.
There are things Wilson isn't saying.
Things Delphine is starting to notice.
And people around them who are already watching... and waiting.
What began as resistance quickly became something she cannot control.
Because this is not just about feelings.
It is about power. It is about position.
And Delphine may already be standing somewhere she doesn't understand,
somewhere she cannot simply walk away from.
Is she getting closer to Wilson...
or already too deep to step out?
When control finally breaks, one truth becomes impossible to ignore:
Some hearts don't just fall in love.
They fall into something they may not survive.
7.6
I spent fifteen years building my husband's mafia empire, coding the complex algorithms that washed his blood money clean.
But on my thirty-fifth birthday, instead of a gift, I received a photo of his hand resting on another woman's thigh.
When I confronted him, Dustin didn't apologize. He brought his pregnant mistress, Jami, into our penthouse and told me to accept the hush money.
"You have nothing except what I give you," he sneered, treating me like a slow servant rather than the mastermind behind his success.
The argument turned violent. He shoved me hard, sending me crashing into a solid oak nightstand.
As I lay on the floor, bleeding and dizzy from a split forehead, I watched the man I loved step over my body to comfort the woman wearing my mother's stolen heirloom ring.
He didn't check my pulse. He didn't call for help. He looked at me with pure disgust and turned his back.
In that moment, the wife died, and the witness was born.
He thought I was powerless because I had no assets in my name. He thought I would fade away quietly.
He forgot one crucial detail: I wasn't just the furniture in his castle. I was the architect.
Every server, every encrypted drive, every hidden account—I owned the code.
I wiped the blood from my face and walked out the door, but I didn't go to a lawyer.
I went to a hardware store and bought a ten-pound sledgehammer.
I wasn't going to just leave him.
I was going to delete him.
9.7
Blurb: She signed the divorce papers. He never signed away his obsession.
Veronica Stanford was the perfect wife-devoted, patient, and hopelessly in love. But when her billionaire husband, Jason Harper, trades her in for her treacherous best friend, Rhea, Veronica's world shatters. Broken and betrayed, she drowns her sorrows in a bar, only to be saved by a dangerously alluring stranger with emerald-green eyes and a lethal reputation: Monte "Four" Zagcanni, the ruthless heir to a mafia empire.
Four is everything Jason isn't-dark, dangerous, and devastatingly protective. When Veronica discovers she's pregnant with Jason's child, she strikes a deal with Four: a fake marriage to shield her from scandal. But what starts as a cold arrangement ignites into a passion neither can resist.
Jason, realizing his mistake too late, wants Veronica back-along with the son he never knew existed. But Four isn't a man who surrenders what's his. And Veronica? She's done being the meek wife.
Betrayal runs deep. Revenge burns hotter.
As secrets unravel-her father's bloody past, Rhea's twisted obsession, and Jason's deadly lies-Veronica must decide: trust the man who destroyed her once, or surrender to the devil who might destroy her forever.
One wants her back. The other wants her forever.
8.8
I spent three years hating Damien Castillo, the ruthless mafia Don who kidnapped me from my engagement party and ruined my reputation.
But in the end, it was my perfect fiancé, Julian, and my sweet half-sister, Sophia, who slipped the deadly poison into my wine.
As the venom burned through my veins in that freezing cellar, I watched Julian smile. He and Sophia had orchestrated my brutal death. She had been sleeping in his bed all along, intentionally miscarrying his bastard child just to frame me as 'impure' and strip me of my family's protection. My own father used me as a political pawn, letting them throw me away like garbage.
And Damien? The monster I had fought and despised for years marched straight into a suicide ambush for me. He was riddled with bullets, turning his body into a human shield just to buy me a few more seconds of life.
"Touch her and you die."
I died in that blood-soaked basement, clutching his lifeless body, suffocating on my own blind trust. Why did I ever believe the golden boy who betrayed me? Why did I fight the only man who truly loved me?
Opening my eyes again, the stench of copper and mold was gone, replaced by the scent of Cuban cigars and black silk.
I was back in 1928, on the exact night Damien stormed my engagement party and locked me in his penthouse.
This time, when the ruthless Don approached me, I didn't scream or run back to my killers. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him.
8.3
I was staring at the two pink lines on the plastic stick, trembling with the terrifying joy of carrying the heir to the New York underworld’s most ruthless faction.
Then the intercom buzzed, and a voice splintered my world.
"The little art student actually thinks I'm going to marry her? It was just a game to pass the time while you were in Europe, Estella."
I froze.
My boyfriend, Holden, was in the next room, laughing with the daughter of his rival.
He explained that I was just a "clean civilian image" he needed to secure a business deal. Now that the deal was signed, he was dumping the "stray" to marry the "Queen."
I tried to run, but freedom only lasted forty-eight hours.
Holden didn't just break my heart; he turned my terror into content.
He kidnapped me, tied me to a chair at the edge of a cliff, and forced me to choose between my life and his new fiancée's.
Then, he pushed me off the edge.
As gravity snatched me, I heard him laughing.
I landed on a stunt airbag. It was just a "social experiment." A sick prank for his amusement.
"Don't be so dramatic, Kenia," he called down. "It's just a game."
He thought I was broken. He thought I was just a prop in his life.
But he forgot that I knew his secrets.
I dragged my injured body to a payphone and dialed the one number Holden told me to fear—the rival Don, Gael Simpson.
"It's Kenia," I whispered, clutching the receiver like a lifeline. "I'm calling in the debt."