The Dead Bride's Vicious Mafia Comeback

A year ago, my husband Marco traded my life for a political alliance. I watched his mistress's taillights fade into the dark as the freezing waters of Lake Michigan swallowed me whole. They called my drowning a tragic accident and burned a fake body before anyone could demand an autopsy. Tonight, Marco is marrying that same mistress, Isabella, in a lavish ballroom filled with Chicago's underworld elites. They even conceived a child during my mourning period, a deadly sin in our traditional Mafia family. They thought I was rotting at the bottom of the lake, completely forgotten. But they didn't know I had survived, bleeding through brutal underground training just to crawl my way back. When the wedding venue plunged into darkness and a single spotlight hit me standing there in a white mourning gown, Marco dropped his glass. "Arabella? No... you're dead," he choked out, his face draining of blood. Isabella shrieked, looking like she had seen the devil himself. Did they really think a little water could wash away our sacred vows? They stole my life, my name, and my family, expecting me to stay a compliant ghost forever so they could secure their power. I smiled coldly as I handed the Mafia Don a decree of absolute protection from The Commission. I am Arabella Stark, and my vendetta only ends when they drown in their own blood.

Chapters

Chapter 2

Seraphina POV

I woke up to the metallic taste of blood and a throbbing pain in my temple.

The blinding spotlight of the ballroom was gone, replaced by the sickly yellow glow of a single tungsten bulb. I was strapped to a heavy leather chair in a windowless concrete room. The air down here in the Stark Estate's basement was thick, reeking of expensive cigars, aged whiskey, and the faint, unmistakable copper scent of old blood.

Damien Stark lounged in the shadows across from me, watching me with the unblinking intensity of a predator.

"She's a fraud!" Isabella's shrill voice shattered the heavy silence. She was pacing near the heavy iron door, her wedding dress looking like a crumpled pastry. "Kill her, Damien! Shoot her right now!"

Marco stood beside her, pale and trembling, unable to even meet my eyes. But it was the man sitting at the head of the heavy wooden table who commanded the room's gravity. Silas Stark, the Don. He sat like an immovable mountain, his face carved from granite. Aunt Francesca and Lena Stark stood quietly in the periphery, observing the spectacle.

Damien ignored the bride. He leaned forward, the light catching the sharp, cruel angles of his jaw. "Who sent you?" he asked, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that vibrated in my chest.

"I am Arabella," I whispered, forcing my voice to tremble just enough to sound traumatized, yet defiant.

"Liar!" Isabella shrieked, pointing a manicured finger at me. "Check her!"

Damien didn't need to be told twice. He closed the distance between us in two long strides. His large hand gripped my upper arm, and with a violent jerk, he ripped the ruined silk sleeve completely off.

Isabella gasped, the words dying in her throat as the red, leaf-shaped birthmark was exposed under the harsh light.

I shifted my gaze from Damien to the Don. "Two years ago," I said, my voice echoing off the concrete walls. "The Gallo Charity Gala. Sofia Gallo was burning with jealousy over Marco's attention. She 'accidentally' spilled scalding coffee on my arm. Mrs. Gallo personally treated the burn in the powder room." I tilted my chin up. "Call them, Don Stark. Verify it. Unless you want tomorrow's Chicago Tribune to feature the Stark family's murdered bride."

Silas's jaw tightened. The threat landed exactly where I wanted it to. Involving a neutral family meant this couldn't be swept under the rug without risking a massive scandal.

Damien's thumb suddenly brushed against my skin. He wasn't looking at the birthmark. His pitch-black eyes were locked onto the jagged, faded pink scar right beside it. His touch was rough, yet strangely reverent, burning a trail of fire across my cold skin.

"And this?" Damien rasped, his voice dropping an octave. The murderous intent in his eyes had fractured, replaced by a dark, obsessive confusion.

I swallowed hard, playing my final, most lethal card. "The Stark family hunt, a year ago. Your sister, Eloise, was showing off her aim to Chiara Falcone. A ricochet caught my arm." I looked dead into Damien's eyes. "Chiara laughed and said, 'Stark bullets certainly know how to pick a beauty.' Ask Eloise. Or better yet, ask the Falcones in New York."

The room plunged into a suffocating silence.

I had just tied their hands with the one thing the Mafia feared more than the law: rival family witnesses. If I disappeared now, the Falcones would use it as leverage. Damien's hand slowly dropped from my arm. He knew he couldn't kill me.

Aunt Francesca stepped out of the shadows, her pragmatic eyes calculating the damage. "If we dispose of her, the Gallos and Falcones will eventually talk," she said coolly. "We need a narrative, Silas. She returns, traumatized, her memories fractured. We welcome her back. We control the story."

Isabella let out a strangled sob, but no one looked at her.

Silas Stark slowly stood up. The absolute authority of the Don radiated from him as he looked down at me. "Welcome home, Arabella," he declared, his voice devoid of any warmth. "The wedding is indefinitely postponed. You will reside here. Damien will oversee your... recovery."

I had won. I had wedged myself into the heart of the Stark family to pave the way for my vendetta. But as Damien pulled a switchblade from his pocket and sliced through my leather restraints, his dark eyes promised a different kind of hell.

"Get up," Damien ordered, his hand wrapping possessively around my uninjured arm, hauling me to my feet. "We're going upstairs to the library. The family council isn't over."

Continue to next part

"Whether you like it or not, I'm going to marry you, Jillian," Sir Zach told me. His face was dead serious, as if he had already made up his mind. "What do you mean, marry me? Hey! Just because you're rich doesn't mean you can do whatever you want! There is no reason for me to marry someone like you!" I snapped at him. It felt like he was trying to dictate every single thing I did, even though he wasn't even my boyfriend. "I have a reason to marry you, Jillian. Something happened between us, don't you remember? You were actually the one who kissed me that night you were completely wasted," he reminded me, a smirk playing on his lips. I swallowed hard at his words. Right. Something did happen between us. But it wasn't intentional. Someone had drugged my drink, which was why I acted that way the night he pulled me away from the "friends" I thought were genuine. "So, there's no reason to say 'no,' my future wife," he said with a wink. It looks like there's no way out for me. I'm actually going to be the wife of Sir Zach-my professor and the one person I'm always at odds with.

Mafia Modern Romance

8.9

A New Beginning After Divorce

8.9

After three years of marriage, he abandoned her, but treated Maria Harris like a treasure. He ignored her and treated her harshly. Their marriage was like a cage. Linda Abels is very patient, because she loves Shane Harvey deeply! Until it rained heavily that night, he left her pregnant and flew abroad to accompany Maria', while Linda's legs were bleeding and she crawled out to call an ambulance... She finally breathed a sigh of relief: some people's hearts can never be covered. Linda wrote down the divorce agreement and left quietly. ... Two years later, Linda came back with countless suitors around her. Her scum ex-husband pressed her on the door panel and forced her step by step: "Mrs. Linda, I haven't signed yet! Don't want to be good to others!" Linda smiled and said lightly, "Mr. Shane, we have nothing to do with each other!" The man's eyes were slightly red, and he tremblingly said his vow when he got married: "Linda will never leave him in his life, and divorce is prohibited!"

Mafia Modern Romance

9.2

Bound to the calloway's heir

9.2

In LA's Business world, Zane Calloway, thirty, turns cartel king after his father's gruesome murder, ruling The Atlas Group with a bloody fist. He learned how betrayal could ruin even the biggest empire and was hell bent on keeping Atlas Group. However when Sienna Carter, his new assistant got in the picture, he threw caution to the wind. To become the only one controlling the cartel, he would use Sienna who was a supposedly ghost from a dead cartel as bait for his enemies. Sienna Carter made his mission become even more complicated as she ignites a dangerous sparks in him. Twenty-five year old Sienna Carter just wanted to stay alive, running away from danger had been the only thing she was capable of since her family were murdered. All she had as a semblance of her old life was the locket her dying father had given her and when a new job pops up in Los Angeles, she gambled for it, hoping for her sake that it wouldn't lead her straight to the same hell she was running from. However, she would soon realize that the Atlas Groups was going to be more than just a survival decision but the key to everything.

Billionaire Mafia Modern

7.1

Don't Cry Now, My Heartless Ex-Husband

7.1

The smell of leaking gasoline burned my nostrils, but the cold look in my husband's eyes hurt worse. Trapped in the overturned car, I watched Jacob reach in. He didn't reach for me, his wife. He unbuckled his mistress, Cassandra, shielding her head with a tenderness he never showed me. He walked away, leaving me to burn. I survived, but at a brutal cost. My right hand—the hand that played Chopin—was crushed into a useless claw. Jacob didn't apologize. Instead, he moved Cassandra into our home. He let her wear my diamonds, mock my injuries, and burn my sheet music. When I tried to expose her embezzlement, he called me unstable. To punish me for "betraying the family," he dug up my mother's grave and threw her ashes into the sea. That was the moment the wife died, and something else was born. He thought he had buried me under the weight of his cruelty. He didn't realize he had planted a seed. I staged my death and vanished into the snowy streets of Vienna. Five years later, I am a world-renowned composer, and Jacob is a ruined man in a wheelchair, begging for a forgiveness I no longer have the energy to give.

Mafia Modern Romance

9.1

He Chose His Pregnant Mistress, So I Chose His Mafia Boss

9.1

Betrayed by a husband who abandoned her for his pregnant mistress, a woman finds herself at a devastating crossroads. Seeking a path forward, she makes a daring move to align with the one man her former spouse fears most: his own mafia boss. This high-stakes alliance plunges her into a dangerous underworld where loyalty is a weapon and revenge is a slow burn. In a world of crime and passion, she must navigate the risks of her new life.

Mafia Modern Romance

8.2

I Left The Jester For The King

8.2

"Little Siren: I miss your hands on me." That message lit up the screen of a burner phone I found in my fiancé's jacket pocket while he was in the shower. Franco Moretti, the rising star of the Vitiello crime family, treated me like a fragile glass doll. He claimed he was "saving himself" for our wedding night out of respect. But the phone told a different story. I unlocked it and found three years of betrayal. It wasn't just a fling. It was Camilla, a girl from high school I had befriended out of pity. I watched their history unfold. He complained that I was cold. He called me a statue. Then I saw the invoice. He had bought two identical pink diamond engagement rings. One for me, and one for her. Worse, he had stolen my grandmother' s heirloom jade bracelet-a piece of history meant for his bride-and given it to his mistress. "I need her name to get the chair," he texted her. "You are my true Queen." I didn't cry. I didn't scream. I realized I wasn't a person to him; I was a ladder. Leaving him would be too easy. Leaving is what victims do. I walked to my laptop and opened a new document. I wasn't just going to cancel the wedding. I was going to broadcast his ruin to the entire underworld, and our wedding would be my stage. Then, I picked up the phone and dialed the one number my father forbade me to call. "I accept," I told the deep voice on the other end. "You understand what you are agreeing to, Gianna?" Enzo Falcone asked. "I understand," I said, looking at the New York skyline. "You want an alliance. I want a weapon."

Mafia Modern Romance

The Dead Bride's Vicious Mafia Comeback

Chapter 2

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