The Unwanted Wife He Broke In Rain

My husband, the ruthless Don of Chicago, forced me to kneel in the freezing mud to apologize to his mistress. He believed her fake tears over my dignity. While the icy rain soaked through my dress, a sharp, jagged cramp seized my body. I screamed for him, begging for help as I felt the life slipping out of me. But Dante didn't move. He just lit a cigarette, his eyes cold as steel. "Get up when you are ready to learn respect," he said. He walked inside with her, locking the door and leaving me to bleed out in the storm. I lost the baby that night. The doctors told me the damage was permanent—I was barren. I thought that was the bottom, but I was wrong. When I returned to the estate, a ghost in my own home, he threw me into a flooded cellar full of rats because Elena accused me of poisoning her son. He tortured me for days to protect a child that wasn't even his. That was the moment the love died. So, while he was away on business, I didn't just pack a bag. I executed a plan three years in the making. I vanished. But before I disappeared, I left him a gift on his desk. A USB drive containing the security footage of Elena’s lies, the medical report of the miscarriage he caused, and a paternity test proving he had destroyed his true family for a stranger's bastard. By the time he fell to his knees screaming my name, I was already gone.

Chapters

Chapter 4

When the heavy iron door finally groaned open, the sudden influx of light blinded me.

Two guards dragged me out, my legs useless beneath me, numb from days of cramping cold. I reeked of mildew and the sour, metallic tang of my own fear.

Dante was waiting in the hallway.

He looked tired, the lines around his eyes etched deep, but his expression held no apology.

"Elena begged for your release," he said, his voice flat. "She has a forgiving heart. Unlike you."

I didn't answer.

I couldn't even look at him. If I turned my gaze to his face, the urge to kill him might override the little strength I had left, and I would only fail.

"You are confined to the attic," he stated, delivering the verdict like a judge. "You are no longer mistress of this house. You are a liability."

The attic.

A cruel irony. It used to be my sanctuary, the one place where the light was perfect for painting. Now, the lock clicked shut from the outside.

I spent three days in that dust-mote silence.

I spent hours watching from the small circular window as Elena walked in the garden below.

She was wearing my sun hat.

She was holding Dante's arm.

He leaned down to hear her speak, a softness in the curve of his spine that used to belong to me. That betrayal hurt more than the hunger.

On the fourth day, the door opened.

A maid entered, avoiding my eyes, and threw a garment onto the narrow bed.

"The Don expects you downstairs in an hour," she muttered. "The Charity Gala is tonight."

I looked at the dress.

It was black. Severe. High-necked and old-fashioned.

It wasn't a dress for a wife. It was a dress for a widow.

I put it on. The silk hung loosely on my frame; I had lost at least ten pounds in a week.

The Gala was held in the grand ballroom, a cavern of crystal chandeliers and hollow laughter. The elite of Chicago were there—politicians, judges, and the heads of other crime families.

When I walked in, the room fell into a suffocating silence.

They saw the dark circles bruised under my eyes. They saw the vast, freezing distance between me and my husband.

Dante stood at the center of the room, a glass of scotch in hand, commanding the space.

Elena was beside him, draped in a shimmering gold gown that clung to her curves like second skin. She looked like a queen.

I drifted toward the bar, trying to make myself invisible against the shadows.

The whispers reached me anyway.

"That's the wife? She looks deranged."

"I heard she tried to poison the kid."

"Dante is a saint for keeping her."

Suddenly, a woman in crimson deliberately checked her shoulder into mine.

Red wine splashed across the front of my black dress, soaking into the fabric like fresh blood.

"Oops," she sneered, her lip curling. "Watch where you're going, crazy."

I didn't react.

I didn't gasp. I didn't glare. I just took a cocktail napkin and quietly dabbed at the stain.

Dante saw it all.

He didn't come to me.

Instead, he stepped up to the microphone on the stage.

"Thank you all for coming," he said, his baritone voice silencing the room effortlessly. "Family is everything to us."

He slid an arm around Elena's waist.

She beamed, soaking in the adoration.

"I want to honor Elena Russo tonight," he announced. "A woman of courage. A woman who understands loyalty. She is the future of this house."

The room erupted in applause.

He hadn't introduced her as his mistress. He hadn't introduced her as a guest. He had named her the future.

And me? I was the past. I was just the stain on the floor.

He looked at me then.

Across the sea of applauding sycophants, his eyes locked with mine. There was a challenge in them, cold and sharp.

*Submit,* he was saying. *Accept your place.*

I held his gaze. I didn't blink. I didn't cry.

After the speech, he cornered me by the kitchen entrance, away from the prying eyes of his guests.

"You will move your things to the servant's quarters in the east wing," he ordered. "The attic is needed for storage. You will learn humility, Sera. You will earn your keep."

I looked at him, feeling a strange, hollow calm settle over me.

"Okay," I said.

He blinked, visibly surprised by my lack of fight. "Okay?"

"Yes, Dante. Whatever you say."

I turned and walked toward the servant's hall.

I didn't look back.

I didn't need to. I knew exactly where I was going.

Continue to next part

Emilia Collins is the first child and daughter of one of the wealthiest families who is in debt to one of the most notorious and deadly mafia families in the country. The Costello's. Due to their huge debt and inability to pay back, Emilia's family offers her up as collateral until they are able to pay back what they owe. An action which the enforcers of the Costello family accept but not for the reasons one might think. They take Emilia, who has no say, and sell her to the highest bidder at an auction. The man who buys her? None other than Luca Hernandez, the most notorious mafia king—the embodiment of darkness. The scourge of the city. Emilia’s heart shatters as she grapples with her fate. She has no choice but to comply, as her family’s survival hangs in the balance. Luca, a man of shadows and secrets, claims her as his possession. His personal pet. As Emilia surrenders to Luca’s desires, she discovers love in the most unlikely of places. But danger lurks around every corner. The city whispers of betrayal, and death trails Luca like a shadow. How long can their fragile bubble of passion withstand the harsh reality that threatens to tear them apart?

Billionaire Mafia Romance

7.7

Betrayed, I Married the Feared Cripple

7.7

Three days after my fiancé publicly dumped me for my stepsister, the Supreme Don issued a command that silenced the entire estate. I wasn't being cast aside. I was being sold to Damien Russo. The "Broken Don." A crippled, scarred monster rumored to have murdered his last two wives. My adoptive mother, Elena, didn't cry for me. She smirked. To her, I was finally being disposed of. She was so confident I was walking to my death that she decided to loot my corpse before I even left. She forged documents to steal my entire inheritance—my biological mother’s trust fund—to pay for my stepsister’s lavish wedding to my ex. "She won't need money where she's going," my stepsister laughed, wearing a dress bought with my stolen funds. They thought they were sending a lamb to the slaughter. They thought I was too weak, too stupid, and too afraid of the monster to fight back. But they made a fatal mistake. With my aunt’s help, I didn't just find the proof of their embezzlement; I found a weapon. I’m not running from the monster. I’m going to marry him. And when I hand him the evidence that the Herrera family stole from his bride, he won't be my executioner. He will be my vengeance.

Action Mafia Romance

7.5

Betrayed Wife: Reclaiming My Stolen Life

7.5

On the morning of our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, I found a cream-colored document tucked inside my husband's suit pocket. It was a twenty-million-dollar asset transfer for his former receptionist, Carmen. But what made my blood run cold was the contingent beneficiary: Leo, my newborn son who the hospital claimed was kidnapped twenty-three years ago. When I confronted Devonte, he didn't even try to explain. He handed me a fake Cartier watch, canceled all my credit cards, and publicly called me delusional. The next day, he moved Carmen into our mansion and emptied all our joint accounts into offshore trusts. "If you don't sign these papers and walk away, I will have you committed," he threatened, his mother nodding in agreement. They had orchestrated the kidnapping of my baby, hiding him with the mistress while I spent half my life sedated and screaming in grief. Now, to keep his secret, Devonte was going to lock me in a psychiatric ward and bury me in debt. I didn't understand how the man I loved could be such a monster. Why did he steal my child? What else was hidden in that confidential adoption file? Pushed to the absolute brink, I refused to be his victim. When his goons came to my temporary apartment to drag me away, I turned to the rugged union electrician who had just fixed my lights. "If you need a husband to keep you out of a psych ward, I'll marry you," he said, offering himself as my legal shield. I took his hand. It was time to tear my husband's perfect life apart.

Mafia Modern Romance

8.9

Caring for the Mafia Son

8.9

"Marry me... or your family dies." To save her father's life, Rachel Owens signs the one contract no woman survives: becoming the wife of Damien Montrel, the city's most feared mafia king. His rules are simple: Obey. Stay inside. Don't ask questions. But behind the mansion's locked doors, Rachel discovers a softer truth meant to stay hidden- Leo. A small boy who calls her "Mama," and the only weakness Damien has ever had. Damien is ruthless to his enemies and merciless to traitors... yet for Rachel, his control begins to crack. Her kindness disarms him. Her silence wounds him. Her fear destroys him. Just as they begin to trust each other, a new enemy rises - The Raven, a shadow who knows Damien's secrets, his past... and Rachel's value. War is coming. In a world ruled by blood and vengeance, Rachel must decide: Is the real danger the man she married... or the one coming for them both?

Mafia Modern Romance

7.3

FILTHY LITTLE ASSISTANT

7.3

Jolene flies to Italy broke and desperate for a PA job. She walks into the wrong room and finds a man naked in the shower. She can't stop staring. He notices. The interview is brutal. Two men, Marco and Enzo, tear her apart, humiliate her, and dismiss her. She thinks she failed. Then Enzo gets in the car. It was all a test. They wanted to see if she'd break. She didn't. The job is hers. But they don't want a normal assistant. They want control. They touch her when they want, stand too close, give orders that cross every line. On her first night, Marco tells her to take off her blouse. Jolene has to choose: obey or walk away with nothing. The problem? Part of her doesn't want to leave.

Action Mafia Modern

7.6

Just A Substitute: The Wife He Failed

7.6

At the family dinner, the waiter stumbled, sending a tray of boiling onion soup flying toward the table. My husband, Marcus, moved instantly. But not for me. He threw his body over my cousin Chloe, shielding her completely in his arms. I was left exposed. The scalding liquid hit my chest and arm, burning my skin instantly. While I screamed in agony on the floor, Marcus was frantically checking Chloe for scratches, whispering, "Thank God it missed you. You are more important than her. Always." In the hospital, he handed me a check for fifty thousand dollars. "It was an instinct," he said, avoiding my eyes. "Don't make a scene." He didn't notice my hollow expression. He didn't ask why the doctors were looking at him with pity. And he certainly didn't know that the shock and trauma had caused me to miscarry our six-week-old baby. For four years, I had been his perfect doll. I dressed like Chloe, painted like Chloe, and waited for him to love me. I thought I was his wife. I didn't realize I was just a placeholder until he sacrificed our child to save his true love from a splash of soup. When he left to comfort Chloe again, I pulled the IV from my arm. I placed the signed divorce papers on the bedside table. Underneath them, I left the medical report confirming the miscarriage of his child. Then, I vanished.

Mafia Modern Romance

The Unwanted Wife He Broke In Rain

Chapter 4

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