From Mafia Wife To Free Woman

For three years, I've been the wife of Dante Moretti, the head of the Chicago Bratva. My only purpose was to give him an heir. Today, I stared at the second pink line on a pregnancy test—a death sentence. But my husband didn't want a wife. He wanted a vessel. Hiding outside his office door, I heard him talking to his sister, Isabella. They were placing a million-dollar bet on the gender of my unborn child. "But what about her?" Isabella asked. "Once she gives you the heir, she’ll be useless." The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating. "She served her purpose," Dante said, his voice dropping to a chilling whisper. "A broodmare is only valuable when it can produce. After that…" He didn't have to finish. In his world, useless things are discarded. Violently. Every touch, every calculated smile had been a lie to secure his dynasty. He saw a legacy, not a child. He saw a vessel, not a wife. The only way to win his game was to knock the whole board over. I pulled out my phone and called the clinic my friend had told me about. "Yes," I said, my voice a stranger’s, hollow and steady. "I'd like to schedule a termination."

Chapters

Chapter 3

Elara POV:

The next morning, I feigned a headache, a plausible excuse after the "herbal tea." Dante was already gone. The silence he left behind was my chance.

I used the time to dig. I knew his laptop password—the date his father was gunned down, a constant reminder of the throne he'd inherited. Deep within the encrypted files, I found it. A private group chat named 'The Kennel'.

My hands shook as I clicked it open. The members were his closest men. The subject of their discussion was me.

They called me 'The Mare'.

I scrolled through months of messages, my stomach churning. There were photos of me sleeping. There were comments rating my body. There was a grotesque calendar detailing my ovulation cycle, with bets placed on which month he would "succeed."

'The Mare is looking fertile today.'

'Did you break her yet, boss?'

'Heard she's finally pregnant. Time to collect my winnings.'

This gallery represented my life—my soul—reduced to crude jokes among violent men. They saw me as livestock.

My revulsion was interrupted by a ping from my phone. It was a group text from Isabella.

'You are cordially invited to celebrate the third anniversary of my brother, Dante, and his lovely wife, Elara. Let's toast to their future and the legacy to come.'

Attached was a picture of Dante and me from our wedding day. He looked powerful. I looked terrified.

A cold premonition slid down my spine. The anniversary party. This was the stage for the humiliation she had planned. The champagne.

Acting on pure instinct, I forwarded every file, every screenshot from 'The Kennel' to a cloud account under a fake name. I backed it up twice. Evidence was power.

Just as I finished, the bedroom door swung open. Dante stood there, holding a velvet box. My heart hammered against my ribs. I shoved the laptop under the covers.

"I thought you were out," I said, trying to keep my voice even.

"I came back. For you," he said. He sat on the edge of the bed.

"A gift. For our anniversary," he said, opening the box.

Inside, nestled on a bed of black satin, was a diamond necklace. It was a collar of glittering stones that screamed ownership.

"It's beautiful," I lied, the words tasting like ash.

He took it out and fastened it around my neck. His fingers were cold against my skin. "You'll wear it tonight."

It wasn't a question.

"I'm not feeling well, Dante," I tried, my last attempt at escape. "The headache..."

"You'll be fine," he said, his tone hardening. "You will be there. You will smile. And you will be the perfect, doting wife. Do you understand me?" His hand moved from the clasp to my throat, his thumb pressing lightly against my pulse point. It was a warning.

I nodded, the word 'yes' trapped in my throat.

He stood up, satisfied. "I'll send the stylist in an hour."

As he left, I placed a hand over my still-flat stomach. I had to endure this. For my child. I would play the part of the perfect, docile wife one last time. And then we would be free.

Continue to next part

There are ninety-nine Hermès Birkins sitting in my walk-in closet. To the world, it' s a collection worth millions. To me, it' s a tally of ninety-nine times my husband, Harris, betrayed me. Each bag was a silent apology I accepted to keep our hollow marriage alive. But the hundredth betrayal wasn't fixed with crocodile leather. On the anniversary of my mother's death, I tracked Harris to my family' s private cemetery. He wasn't alone. Jessica, his "first love," was there, standing over the empty plot reserved for my living father, right next to my mother' s grave. They were digging a hole. Jessica smirked, holding a velvet box containing her dead cat and a plaque that read To Arvel, my eternal companion. "It' s just a cat, Cecily," she laughed, tossing her hair. "Don't be so dramatic. Your father won't mind the company. Besides, it shows who Harris really listens to." For years, I accepted the bags and the lies. But desecrating my family's sacred ground? The submissive wife died in that moment. I walked toward them, clutching the evidence that would destroy Jessica' s life and shatter Harris' s world. "Dig it up," I commanded, my voice colder than the grave. "Or I will bury you both right here."

Mafia Modern Romance

7.5

Divorcing the Don: And Then I Took Everything

7.5

For six years, Isabella Rossi used her family's immense wealth to save her husband's Mafia empire from bankruptcy while he fought on the front lines. Her reward? Don Damien Moretti returns with a mistress, a secret son, and a demand: Accept them, and keep paying the bills. He expects her to swallow her pride. Instead, Isabella closes her checkbook. She demands a divorce, cuts off their funding, and leaves his "glorious" empire to starve. But a Queen stepping down draws wolves. Enter Giovanni Falcone-the ruthless, untouchable King of the New York Underworld. He doesn't want her money; he wants her. Now, her ex-husband is begging for her back. But Isabella? She's too busy building her own empire-and watching his burn.

Mafia Modern Romance

9.7

Escaping The Cage: I Married His Worst Enemy

9.7

My husband, the Capo of New York, gripped my hand as we walked into the soundproofed room. He wasn't there to save me. He was there to watch the family doctor carve out my mind. A stranger named Sofia claimed I had sold her to a brothel twelve years ago. It was a lie. But Dante looked at me with cold marble eyes, believing the woman sobbing in his arms over the wife he had vowed to protect. "Sit, Elena," he ordered. He strapped me into the chair. He watched as they injected liquid fire into my veins to force a confession. He dragged me to the kennels, forcing me to feed the dogs I was terrified of, and watched as they tore into my flesh. He even locked me in a freezer to "cool off" my jealousy. The final straw wasn't the pain. It was hearing him plan a Vow Renewal with Sofia, intending to parade me as her Maid of Honor to teach me humility. I realized then that Elena Moretti had to die. So, I set the hospital room on fire. I left my wedding ring in the ashes and vanished into the night. Six months later, Dante found me in Paris. He fell to his knees, begging for forgiveness. I looked at him with dead eyes and handed him a knife. "Kill yourself," I said. "That is the only way I will believe you are sorry."

Mafia Modern Romance

9.5

Forbidden desiress

9.5

This is wrong Clark, Rachel is my sister." I said out of breath as he continued assaulting my neck with kisses. "I don't care Eva, it's you I want and desire and not her." "what will the world say??? what if she finds out about this Clark?? what then??" I asked with uncertainty. "I want you and care only about you Eva and the world can go to hell!!! are you ready to hold my hand as we walk through this path together???" "Clarkkkk." "Answer me, Eva!! are you ready???" Eva Mendes harbours a secret attraction for her sister's husband Clark Anderson and as she struggles with her guilt and shame, she finds herself drawn to Clark's confident nature despite the danger of ruining her sister's relationship and her own reputation. As their desires intensify, they realize that their secrets and lies may ultimately lead to their downfall or will it???

Mafia Modern Romance

9.7

In love with my best friend father

9.7

"Sandra, why did you wear that slutty clothes to the nightclub?" He asked her, anger flicking in his eyes. "You are a naughty girl," he murmured, before circling her and stopping suddenly to bite her hard on her ears. "That's for showing what's mine out!" Prof Tyler murmured before his right hand moved down to her fat ass and spanked her hard. "Argggggh," Sandra screamed. "You get treated like a slut if you act like one," Prof Tyler said while his big hands continued smacking the shit out of her ass. "I'm... so... sorry.. daddy," Sandra whimpered. Immediately after she murmured those words, Tyler's eyes zeroed in on her lips before he claimed her lips voraciously. "This is mine," He screamed while holding on tight to her ass. "And I don't want you showing other riff raffs what belongs to me!" He snapped * Dive into this gripping tale as Sandra faces the difficult task of confessing her relationship with her best friend's father. In the midst of this revelation, a surprising twist unfolds when Sandra discovers that Professor Tyler is a werewolf. Will their love story endure the weight of their hidden secrets, or will the revelations lead to its downfall?

Mafia Romance Werewolf

8.2

Mafia Princess's Vengeance for Lost Heir

8.2

At my ten-week ultrasound, I was supposed to be celebrating the future of the Falcone family. I was Isabella Falcone, wife to the most powerful Don in the south. But when the nurse called my name, the man who stood up beside his pregnant mistress was my husband. In the sterile silence of that waiting room, he chose her. He later confessed he was being blackmailed by her family-a weakness that was a death sentence in our world. That night, he moved his mistress into our home, into my bedroom, and locked me away like a prisoner in the staff quarters. He wasn't imprisoning his wife; he was guarding an asset. He needed the legitimate heir I carried to save his crumbling empire. His betrayal was absolute when his own mother and my adoptive parents arrived while he was away. They forced me to sign divorce papers, then told me they were taking me to a clinic. His mother pulled out a gun and pointed not at my head, but at my stomach. "We're terminating this complication," she said coldly. As they dragged me from the house, my world went dark. But through the haze, I saw a fleet of black cars blocking the gate. An army of men poured out, led by a face I had only ever seen in a photograph. Days earlier, locked in my room, I made a single phone call to the only man more powerful than my husband: my biological father, the head of the Chicago Outfit. And he had come to collect his daughter.

Mafia Modern Romance

From Mafia Wife To Free Woman

Chapter 3

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