From Mafia Pawn To The Don's Queen

It wasn't a gun, but the pen in my hand was going to end my life just the same. Liam, the man I was supposed to marry in a month, pointed to the tablet on his desk. It showed a live feed of my mother’s hospital room. "Sign the confession, Ava," he said, his voice devoid of any warmth. "Take the fall for the embezzlement. Or the funding for her ventilator stops in ten seconds." My heart hammered against my ribs. The crimes weren't mine. They belonged to Chloe, his mistress. But Liam Valenti, the Underboss of New York, was sacrificing me to save her. "She's fragile," he said casually, adjusting his silk cuffs. "She can't handle prison. You're strong. You'll survive." With tears blurring my vision, I signed the document. I signed away my career as a lawyer and my freedom to save my mother. Liam snatched the paper like a prize. He didn't offer comfort. He just smirked. "Good girl. The wedding is still on, of course. You'll look beautiful in the ankle monitor." He walked out to celebrate with his mistress, thinking he had won. Thinking he owned me. But he forgot one crucial detail. I wasn't just his fiancée. I was the one who laundered his money. I knew where every body was buried—literally and financially. The moment the door clicked shut, I stopped crying. I pulled out a burner phone and opened an encrypted app. I wasn't going to jail. I was going to war. I typed three words to the one man Liam feared most. "Execute Protocol Zero."

Chapters

Chapter 6

Ava POV

Ten seconds.

That was all the time I had left.

I stared at the blinking red light on the incendiary device. Plastic explosives, expertly rigged to the server core. Enough to melt the drives.

Enough to turn this glass cage into an incinerator.

"Liam!" I screamed, slamming my palms against the reinforced pane. "There's a bomb! Open the door!"

Liam was arguing with Chloe in the corridor, his back to me. He didn't look.

But Chloe did.

She saw me pointing at the device. She saw the terror in my eyes.

And then, she smiled.

It wasn't a panic response. It was a subtle, venomous quirk of her lips-a victory lap before the race had even finished.

She grabbed Liam's arm and yanked him away, pointing frantically toward the exit.

00:03.

I scrambled backward, curling into a ball in the furthest corner of the room, trying to make myself small.

00:02.

I covered my head with trembling arms.

00:01.

The world turned white.

The sound wasn't a boom. It was a physical blow, a sledgehammer of atmospheric pressure that crushed the air from my chest.

Heat, instantaneous and searing, washed over me.

The shockwave threw me against the glass wall like a ragdoll. My head cracked against the reinforced pane, and for a second, the universe dissolved.

Darkness swarmed my vision.

I slid down to the floor, gravity reclaiming my limp body.

Smoke.

Thick, black, acrid smoke filled the small room instantly. The fire suppression system should have triggered. Halon gas should be dumping from the ceiling to starve the flames.

Instead, there was only the roar of the fire.

Sabotage.

I coughed, my lungs burning as if I'd inhaled broken glass.

I looked up.

Through the toxic haze and the spiderweb cracks in the glass, I saw the corridor.

Liam was on the floor. He had been knocked down by the blast, but he was moving.

He pushed himself up, his eyes wild as he looked toward the server room.

He saw the fire.

He saw me.

I pressed my hand against the glass, leaving a bloody smear where my skin met the surface.

Help me.

I mouthed the words, my voice stolen by the smoke.

Liam took a step toward the door. His hand reached for the keypad.

"Liam!"

Chloe's voice cut through the ringing in my ears.

She was on the floor, coughing. It sounded dry. Forced.

"My leg!" she screamed, clutching a limb that looked perfectly fine. "Liam, help me!"

Liam froze.

He looked at me. Trapped in the fire. Bleeding. The architect of the destruction, in his eyes.

He looked at Chloe. The innocent bystander. The victim.

He hesitated.

That hesitation broke my heart more than the explosion ever could.

He pulled his hand back from the keypad.

He turned his back on me.

He scooped Chloe up into his arms, shielding her face from the smoke while leaving me to choke on it.

"You did this to yourself, Ava!" he yelled over the roar of the flames, his face twisted in disgust.

He kicked the outer door open.

And he walked away.

He left me to burn.

The heat was unbearable now, a physical weight pressing down on me. My clothes were smoking. I couldn't breathe.

I curled up on the floor, the metal grating searing my skin.

So this is how it ends.

Betrayed.

Alone.

No.

A spark of rage ignited in my chest, hotter than the fire around me. Rage was better than fear. Rage was fuel.

I will not die here.

I will not let them win.

I dragged myself toward the ventilation grate on the floor. It was small. Impossibly small.

But the blast had loosened the screws.

I clawed at it, my fingernails breaking, blood mixing with the soot on my hands. I kicked it with my good leg, screaming silently with the effort.

It gave way with a metallic clang.

I squeezed into the crawlspace below the floor, darkness swallowing me just as the servers above exploded into a fireball.

I woke up to the smell of bleach and burnt hair.

Pain was a living thing, pulsing in my head, my lungs, my skin. It had a rhythm, a heartbeat of its own.

I opened my eyes.

White ceiling.

I was in the private clinic. The one Liam controlled.

"She's awake."

Liam's voice. Flat. Devoid of warmth.

I turned my head. It felt like my neck was packed with broken glass.

He was standing by the window, looking immaculate in a fresh suit. Not a hair out of place. Not a smudge of soot on him.

"You're lucky," he said, not turning around. "The fire suppression kicked in eventually. Security pulled you out."

"You... left me," I rasped. My voice was a ruin, a jagged whisper.

He turned then.

His face was cold. Indifferent. Like he was looking at a stranger.

"I saved the civilian," he said smoothly. "Chloe was injured. You were the one who rigged the room."

"What?"

"Don't play dumb, Ava. The police report says it was arson. You tried to destroy the servers to hide your incompetence."

He walked over to the bed.

He didn't ask how I was.

He didn't touch me.

"Get up," he said.

"I... I can't."

He reached out and ripped the IV line from my arm.

Pain spiked, sharp and sudden. Blood spurted onto the pristine white sheets.

I gasped, clutching the wound.

"I said get up," he growled, his patience evaporating. "You have a meeting to attend. You need to apologize to Chloe."

"Apologize?" I stared at him, trying to reconcile the man before me with the one I thought I knew. "She tried to kill me."

"She is the victim here!" Liam shouted, his control slipping for the first time. "You almost killed her with your jealousy!"

He grabbed my arm-the burned one.

I screamed.

He dragged me out of the bed, ignoring my cry.

My hospital gown was flimsy. I was barefoot. Vulnerable.

He dragged me into the hallway. The floor was freezing against my soles.

"Walk," he commanded.

I stood there, swaying. Pain was everywhere, a chorus of agony.

But inside, the fire from the server room was still burning.

I looked at him.

Really looked at him.

I didn't see the Prince of New York.

I didn't see the love of my life.

I saw a small, frightened man who needed to break women to feel tall.

"No," I said.

Liam stopped. He looked shocked. The word was foreign to him.

"What did you say?"

I straightened my spine. It hurt, but it felt good. It felt like armor.

"I said no."

I took a step toward him, forcing my trembling legs to hold steady.

"You aren't a Don, Liam," I said, my voice gaining strength with every syllable. "A Don protects his own. You're just a coward in a tailored suit."

His eyes widened.

He raised his hand to hit me again.

I didn't flinch. I didn't blink.

"Do it," I challenged, staring straight into his soul. "Finish what you started."

He lowered his hand.

He looked unsettled. He wasn't used to defiance. He was used to fear.

"You're delirious," he sneered, backing away. "Go back to your room. Cool off. We'll discuss your punishment later."

He turned and walked away fast.

Retreating.

I watched him go.

I touched the bandage on my arm, feeling the heat radiating beneath it.

He thought he had broken me.

He was wrong.

He had just forged me into something sharp enough to cut his throat.

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"I'm going to fuck all of Vincent's memory out of you," he murmurs. "You're Carter's woman now." ★★★★★ At just 21, Lyla Rose thought she had it all; a loving husband, a powerful mafia family, and a future she believed was secure. But everything comes crashing down when a medical report reveals she's infertile. Vincent Ricci, her ruthless mafia husband, can't tolerate that one imperfection. In a brutal, heartless move, he divorces her and replaces her with Maria, the fertile woman who can give him the heir Lyla never could. But that's just the beginning. Refusing to be discarded so easily, Lyla struggles to let go. But when Vincent plans to lock her away in a basement, everything changes. Carter Ricci, Vincent's cold, calculating uncle, steps in. He takes her to his penthouse, promising to protect her, cherish her, and vowing he's nothing like his nephew. But Carter has his own dark secrets. And once they're revealed, everything Lyla thought she knew about him will be shattered. When Vincent realizes the mistake he's made, regret consumes him and he comes to take her back. But Carter has no intention of letting her go. He's claimed her, body and soul. Now Lyla must choose: Will she return to the man who shattered her, or stay with the one who trapped her in a web of lies and manipulation? And can Carter really hold onto the woman he took through deceit, or will his dark past destroy everything they've built? ★★★★★ TROPES YOU'LL LOVE ✔️ Ex-husband's uncle ✔️ Mafia x secrets ✔️ Betrayal & forbidden love ✔️ Innocent x ruthless ✔️ Age gap ✔️ Dominant x submissive ✔️ Dark obsession ✔️ Lies & twisted romance

Mafia Modern Romance

8.8

Discarded Mafia Bride: My Empire Rises

8.8

I woke from a five-year coma not to the faces of my family, but to my own death certificate. It was signed by my parents and my fiancé, Dante Moretti, the most ruthless Don in our world. He had sworn on his father's grave to wait for me. Instead, he replaced me with Sienna—the very woman who put me in that hospital bed. My own son, Luca, looked at me with cold, unfamiliar eyes. "You're not my mother," he sneered, hiding behind the woman who wore my face. My parents rushed to shield her, not me. "You must understand the bigger picture," my father said. "We did what was necessary for the Famiglia." But the final betrayal came after Sienna pushed me off a bridge and needed a blood transfusion. My own parents signed the consent form to use my blood, and my fiancé gave the order. "Save her," he snarled. The nurse told me they were ordered to "discard the blood bag after use." As if I were trash. I walked out of that hospital, a ghost in my own life. I took the new identity my old professor offered and vanished. This time, I wouldn't be Elara Bianchi, the tragic fiancée. I would build an empire of my own.

Mafia Modern Romance

7.1

I refuse to divorce

7.1

Astrid waited for Joshua all night as she usually did... And the first thing she received, instead of a cold greeting, was the divorce papers. "Why?" were her only words when she saw the agreement. Joshua looked at her indifferently. "It's enough. It's a waste of time to continue this marriage. In the first place, if it weren't for my grandfather, I wouldn't have married you... Sign it!" he shouted. Astrid, her eyes filled with tears, hurriedly took the divorce agreement and put it in her mouth. "I don't want a divorce!" Astrid cried. Joshua didn't respond, he just looked at her and walked away. After all, it was difficult to get into the heart of someone like Joshua. She stood firm in her decision. She had married to take care of her mother's health... Until she lost her too, leaving her with nothing left to hold on to. "He doesn't feel anything for me," she said, wiping her teary eyes. "In the future, I will never appear in front of him again." She took her luggage and, accompanied by a heavy snowfall, disappeared along with her footprints in the snow. She left behind only her signature on the divorce agreement. With a trembling body, she escaped. Five years later, a little boy reminded her of the person she tried to forget.

Mafia Modern Romance

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

7.7

My Husband Sold Me to the Don

7.7

My husband, Hudson Higgins, used my dowry to buy his way into the Chicago underworld while his family treated me like a servant in my own home. I endured their insults for the sake of my five-year-old daughter, Josie. But then, the unthinkable happened. I found Josie's small, lifeless body by the garden fountain, while my sister-in-law Karly and mother-in-law Eleanor stood by, complaining about their party plans. "She was just too naughty," Karly sneered, adjusting her pearls over my dead child. When I turned to Hudson for help, he looked at me with dead eyes and told me it was just her fate. In that moment of absolute grief, I remembered the words of the ruthless Don Damien Falcone: "Your husband is a man who knows how to close a deal." The truth sliced through me like a blade. Hudson hadn't just ignored the Don's interest in me; he had actively sold me to the Devil of Chicago to buy his seat at the table. He let his family punish me for the very sin he committed. I had lost everything-my dignity, my mother, and now my baby-all sacrificed for a man who traded his wife's body for power. The sorrow in my chest evaporated, replaced by a scorching, blinding thirst for a blood vendetta. After lunging at Hudson and feeling the world explode into white, I opened my eyes to find myself back in the winter of 1928. It was the exact night the nightmare began, and Don Damien Falcone was walking toward me in his penthouse. This time, I won't be the broken bird in his gilded cage. If Hudson wants to use me to climb the ranks, I will use the Don's dark obsession to burn the Higgins family to the ground.

Mafia Modern Romance

9.2

Rising From Ashes: The Mafia King's Bride

9.2

I discovered the dark secret my stepmother Beatrice had been hiding for years. When I threatened to expose the truth to the mafia, my half-brother Angelo and step-sister Carmella locked me in an abandoned Brooklyn warehouse. Carmella stood there in my mother's expensive silk dress, her voice sweet and venomous as she confessed how she had meticulously stolen my life and my father's love. Angelo looked at me with cold indifference, pouring gasoline over my feet before striking a match. "You're insane for threatening to break the code of silence," they laughed, leaving me to burn alive to protect their stolen thrones. My own father turned a blind eye, letting his trueborn daughter turn to ash just to maintain the illusion of his perfect family. The smell of charred flesh filled my throat. Until I died, I didn't understand. I had bled for our survival, even taking a bullet for the terrifying Moretti Matriarch. Why did my father let the bastard children of a Chicago bootlegger steal my inheritance and murder me? Opening my eyes again, the phantom heat of the inferno faded into a cool New York afternoon. I was seventeen again, sitting in the backseat of a Cadillac, just returning from my three-year exile in Switzerland. This time, I wouldn't just scream. I would marry the terrifying Prince of New York and watch my stepmother's entire bloodline burn.

Mafia Modern Romance

From Mafia Pawn To The Don's Queen

Chapter 6

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