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 6

Seraphina POV

The adrenaline from the Grand Foyer faded into the suffocating chill of the Mistress's Suite. Arabella's room. The heavy silk drapes and unopened French perfumes felt less like a sanctuary and more like a gilded mausoleum.

Sofia, the loyal Valeriano maid who had practically raised us, fell to her knees the moment the heavy oak door clicked shut. She wrapped her trembling arms around my legs, tears streaming down her weathered face.

"They are monsters, Signorina," she sobbed, her voice barely a whisper. "Please. If you take this step, there is no turning back. They will devour you."

I reached down, gently prying her hands away, and wiped the tears from her cheeks. My reflection in the vanity mirror was a ghost—my sister's face, but with eyes forged in ice. "I know, Sofia," I murmured softly. "But the arrow has already left the bow. From this moment on, I am Arabella Valeriano. My Vendetta ends only when they drown in their own blood."

Before Sofia could reply, the suite doors burst open with a violent crash.

Isabella Moretti lunged into the room like a rabid lioness. Her designer gown was torn, her hair a tangled mess, and in her right hand, a silver stiletto blade gleamed under the chandelier. She aimed straight for my cheek, desperate to carve away the face that had ruined her.

She expected a fragile, broken wife. She didn't expect the brutal, underground training I had endured in Las Vegas.

My body reacted before my mind did. I sidestepped the lethal thrust, seized her wrist, and twisted it sharply. With a clean, ruthless sweep of my leg, I slammed her onto the Persian rug. The stiletto clattered uselessly against the baseboards.

The two Stark Soldiers who had rushed in behind her froze in the doorway, their eyes wide as they processed the effortless, lethal takedown I had just executed.

"Who are you?!" Isabella shrieked, thrashing wildly as the guards finally snapped out of their shock and hauled her up by her arms.

I smoothed the front of my dress, looking down at her with absolute disdain. "A discarded spare."

Her face contorted into something demonic. "Arabella is dead!" she roared, the veins in her neck bulging. "She is rotting at the bottom of freezing Lake Michigan! I watched her sink!"

The confession hit me like a bullet to the chest, but I swallowed the agonizing grief, forcing a condescending smile to my lips. I turned to the stunned guards. "It seems Miss Moretti's humiliation has driven her to hysteria. Take her away before she hurts herself."

As they dragged her screaming down the corridor, I locked the door. I had my confession. Now, I needed the weapon to execute her.

Hours later, under the cover of darkness, I retrieved a coded note from a hollowed-out book in the library—a dead drop from my top Soldier, Enzo 'The Ghost'. I unfolded the parchment.

Clinic records confirmed. Anti-miscarriage medication purchased under an alias.

I stared at the words until they blurred. Isabella was pregnant. She and Marco had desecrated my sister's mourning period to breed a bastard. In a devout, traditional Mafia family, a premarital pregnancy was a death sentence to a woman's reputation. I carefully burned the note, watching the ashes crumble.

The next morning, the Formal Dining Hall was a battlefield disguised as a breakfast service. The clinking of silver against porcelain echoed like gunshots.

Aunt Francesca took a deliberate sip of her espresso, her sharp eyes gleaming with malice as she looked at me. "A guardian angel," she announced loudly, ensuring her voice carried across the long mahogany table. "A pure-blooded wife brings honor and the Commission's protection to the Starks. Not like some who only drag scandal and liability through our halls."

Lena Stark's jaw tightened, her knuckles turning white around her teacup, while Marco stared at his plate, sweating profusely. Francesca was using me as a blade to carve away the main branch's authority.

The heavy dining doors swung open. Isabella was escorted in by two guards for her final dismissal before being shipped back to the Moretti estate.

Don Silas didn't even look up from his newspaper. "Bow to the Matriarch, Isabella. Then leave."

Isabella stood rigid. She sneered at Don Silas, then marched directly toward Marco. Without a word of warning, she spat at his feet.

"I am Isabella Moretti," she hissed, her voice dripping with venom. "I will never be anyone's replacement. I am leaving today because I am discarding you."

She turned her furious gaze to me, her eyes promising murder. "I will be back. And when I am, I will step over this imposter's corpse to take my rightful place as the lady of this house."

The guards grabbed her arms roughly, but the damage was done. The air in the dining hall grew thick and heavy, the silence stretching taut over the remnants of breakfast.

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 6

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