Too Late To Love: The Don's Dying Wife
At my boyfriend's poorest moment, I suddenly broke up with him.
Later, he became a Don in the Mafia and married me by any means necessary.
Everyone said he loved me to the bone.
But every night, he brought different women home, deliberately trying to provoke me.
I asked no questions, shed no tears, and never disturbed his trysts with his mistresses.
He went crazy with rage instead, kissing me fiercely and demanding, "Why aren't you jealous?"
He didn't know I was sick. Dying.
While he was furiously taking his revenge on me, I was slowly walking toward death.
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Chapter 9
Time seemed to warp and slow down. I watched the doll spin helplessly in the air. The blue dress. The delicate, painted smile. My mother's hands pressing it into mine, a memory overlaying the present.
I lunged for it.
But I wasn't fast enough. My body was too slow, too heavy.
The report of its impact cracked through the office, as sharp and final as a gunshot.
The doll flew into a hundred jagged pieces.
I stood frozen. I stared at the fragments. It felt like my ribs were cracking open, one by one.
I saw my name written on the porcelain doll. It was shattered, just like my life. Probably beyond repair.
In that moment, I had a premonition. I was probably really going to die.
A ceramic head rolled across the floor—and stopped right at Dante's shoe.
A muscle in Dante's jaw ticked.
"Oops," Sofia said. Her voice was light. Dripping with mockery. "Butterfingers."
Something inside me finally snapped. The leash I had held on my anger for ten years broke.
I screamed. It was a raw, animal sound that tore from my throat. I threw myself at her.
It wasn't a graceful attack. I stumbled, my weight pitching forward as I grabbed for her hair. I didn't have the strength to slam her. I just let gravity take us both down. We hit the sofa, then the floor.
"You bitch!" I screamed, my voice weak and breathless. "You evil bitch!"
Sofia shrieked. She clawed at my face. Her nails dug into my cheek, drawing blood. I didn't feel it. I just wanted to hurt her. I wanted her to feel a fraction of the agony that was consuming me.
"Elena!" Dante's voice was a roar.
He was there in a second. He grabbed me by the waist. He ripped me off her with bruising force.
A white-hot, blinding agony exploded in my side.
"Are you insane?" he yelled, his chest heaving. "Look at you! You're acting like a wild animal!"
I opened my mouth to speak. But nothing came out. Just a warm rush.
My nose started to bleed again. But this time, it wasn't a trickle. It was a river.
And it wasn't just my nose. I coughed, a wet, hacking sound, and blood splattered onto Dante's pristine white shirt.
He froze. He looked down at the red stain spreading rapidly across his chest.
"Elena?" he said. His voice changed. The anger vanished instantly, replaced by confusion and suspicion.
I felt my legs give out. The room tilted violently. The floor rushed up to meet me. I didn't try to stop the fall.
I hit the ground. Darkness swam at the edges of my vision.
I saw Dante drop to his knees beside me. He turned me over. His hands were covered in my blood.
"Elena!" he shouted. There was panic in his eyes. Real, terrified panic.
"Call the medic!" he screamed at the guards. "Now!"
He was helpless, just watching my blood spill more and more.
I looked up at the ceiling. It was spinning.
"I'm tired, Dante," I whispered. My voice bubbled with liquid.
I closed my eyes. I let the dark water take me under.
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9.7
Prostitution wasn't exactly the future Ariella pictured for herself. But a series of unfortunate events landed her in a brothel she couldn't escape. Until he came in.
His name is Killian Morozcov. He moved liked he owned the world and planted bullets in the heads of men who looked at him the wrong way. He came into the brothel and left with her, and no matter how much she pleaded, he refused to tell her why.
In Ariella's experience, she's learnt that you either stab someone in the back or they'll do it to you. Yet Killian showed her a side of humanity she'd never seen before and her defences fall, leading to a love that they both knew couldn't last.
he was an heir to a Mafia kingdom, and she was a girl from a brothel with no familial backing.
their love was doomed the moment Killian saved her.
especially since he saved the wrong girl. he'd gone to the brothel thinking Ariella was his lost sister, Stella Morozcov.
he'd been wrong and in the process of continuing his search for Stella he grew attracted to Ariella. so much that he felt that he couldn't breath without her.
Their love is built on nothing but pain and deceit...skeletons rotting in their closets. They both have secrets that could tear them apart.
But the past is a funny thing... no matter how much you run from it, it always guns you down in the end.
7.6
When the Pollard family kicked Alyssa out into the freezing rain, Walter threw a ten-thousand-dollar check into a dirty puddle.
"Take it and get out. Don't ever come back," he sneered.
Her adoptive mother and stepsister stood on the mansion's porch, mocking her as a worthless country girl who tarnished their wealthy name. They laughed, claiming she wouldn't even be able to afford community college and would be begging on the streets in a week.
They looked at her cheap clothes and worn backpack with absolute disgust.
They were completely unaware that for the past five years, Alyssa was the secret mastermind who had built their failing gallery into a multi-million-dollar investment empire.
Every key investment, every fortune they made, came from the anonymous notes she had slipped into their unread books. They genuinely believed they were business geniuses, while treating the true architect of their wealth like a stray dog.
Looking at their smug, arrogant faces, Alyssa didn't feel a shred of sadness, only a cold, sharp irony.
They actually believed they had raised her.
She stepped close, whispered the master code to Walter's most secret offshore account, and watched the blood completely drain from his face.
"I raised you," she said, turning her back on the mansion without hesitation.
Walking into the storm, she pulled out a heavily encrypted phone and gave a single, cold order.
"Initiate a full hostile takeover of the Pollard Group."
It was time to end this little game and step into her true life—as the world's most elusive medical genius, and the long-lost billionaire heiress of the Summers dynasty.
8.3
I lost my memory. Or rather, I faked it.
Conrad Gallagher, the boyfriend I had been secretly dating for five years, effortlessly erased our entire relationship.
"You're only fit to be a casual hookup."
Then, he announced his engagement to a woman approved by his parents.
To save myself from utter humiliation, I faked amnesia, conveniently forgetting no one but Conrad.
But when it was time for me to get married, Conrad regretted it. He kidnapped me right out of my wedding and spirited me away: "Don't marry him, okay?"
9.3
Innocent Silesia
9.3
No!" My voice rang loudly. "Like I said, this is the first time I've even been in this city."
"Ah, I see..." His voice shifted. "I was going to give you a different punishment. But since you claim you haven't slept with me..." He leaned forward, his smile cruel. "Why not refresh your memory?"
When Matteo's empire is shaken by betrayal, a stolen jewel, a night of seduction turned deception, his wrath is swift. He vows to hunt down the thief who dared to cross him. But fate delivers him the wrong girl.
Silesia Elton is twenty-three, an orphan from the quiet seaside town of Averna. She comes to Bellmere chasing nothing more than a job, a chance, a future. Instead, she is mistaken for the thief who stole from the king. Kidnapped, accused, and punished, her innocence is shattered in a single night of cruelty.
By the time Matteo realizes the truth, it's too late. Silesia is gone, leaving behind nothing but tears and the echo of words he has never heard before: "I don't want your money."
But Matteo cannot forget her. Dreams of her innocence haunt him, stirring something he has never known, remorse. Guilt sharpens into obsession, and soon the man who swore never to chase anyone finds himself searching for the girl who slipped through his fingers.
Meanwhile, Silesia struggles to survive in a city that devours the weak. Betrayed by the law, cast out by kindness, she is forced into the shadows, where every hand that offers help demands a piece of her soul. Yet even as she runs from the man who ruined her life, fate drives her back into his world.
Caught between the two is Matias Loki, Matteo's twin, a man who hides warmth behind ambition and whose gentle eyes see in Silesia the light his brother cannot hold. But desire between brothers is dangerous, and Silesia becomes the spark that threatens to burn the empire down.
8.5
My fiancé left me standing alone at the podium during our rehearsal dinner to rush to the side of a woman whose only illness was a desperate need for attention.
He humiliated me in front of the heads of the Five Families, abandoning our alliance to scoop his "dying" mistress off the floor.
I didn't cry. I didn't run. I walked straight to the head table, to the most terrifying man in the city—his older brother, the Don.
"The Woodward family owes me a husband," I declared calmly.
An hour later, I was married to the Capo dei Capi. But my ex-fiancé didn't accept his demotion.
He kidnapped me, strapping me to a chair in a soundproof basement.
For three days, he drained my blood pint by pint to "save" his mistress, Jaidyn, who watched me fade while she casually ate an apple.
"Take another bag," she ordered, smiling at my agony. "She still has too much fight in her."
As the cold crept up my chest and my vision blurred, I realized I was going to die for a lie, drained dry by a madman.
Then, the steel door detonated.
Through the smoke and debris walked my husband, not with a ransom, but with a serrated knife and a promise to burn them alive.
8.7
Isabelle couldn't stop drinking as the music pounded through the club. She was trying to drown out the image of her best friend, Aurora, who was pregnant with her fiancé's child, on what should have been Isabelle's engagement night.
But fate had other plans. When an employee calls in sick, Isabelle volunteers to fill in, unaware she is about to walk straight into the arms of Don Miller-the club's most powerful and dangerous client. He was ruthless, commanding, and known for treating women as playthings. Don doesn't believe in love... until Isabelle.
One glance, one reckless touch, and something shifts. She stirs a hunger in him he thought he'd buried forever. And when he learns what broke her, Don makes Isabelle an indecent offer:
He promises to mend her shattered heart and destroy everyone who betrayed her-if she surrenders to him completely.
Two broken souls. One dark deal.
Isabelle is about to learn that submission might just be the sweetest form of revenge. What begins as a dangerous bargain soon spirals into something deeper, darker, and far more intoxicating than either expected.
Maybe love isn't always gentle. Sometimes it's an obsession. Sometimes it's surrender. And sometimes... it's the most exquisite kind of ruin.