APKDock Logo
Chapters
share
The Mafia Don's Regret: Too Late To Love Novel Cover

The Mafia Don's Regret: Too Late To Love

My husband, the city's most ruthless Don, left me standing at the altar to comfort a woman with a sprained ankle. I thought our marriage was a protection pact, but when a kidnapper held a knife to his childhood sweetheart’s throat on a rooftop, Cedric made his choice. He physically shoved me—his pregnant wife—toward the blade to save her. I survived the fall, but our unborn baby didn't. Yet, there was no apology. Blinded by her lies, Cedric accused me of staging the attack out of jealousy. He had me thrown into the family dungeon, where I was beaten while still bleeding from the miscarriage. He didn't know two things. First, that his "perfect" sweetheart had voluntarily sterilized herself years ago and could never give him the heir he craved. Second, that I had terminal cardiomyopathy. My heart had an expiration date, and I had only days left to live. On my 27th birthday, I asked him for one final kindness: a midnight ride on the Ferris wheel where we had our first date. He promised to be there, but he was late again, attending to her needs. So I went up alone. When the carriage came back down, it was empty. All I left behind were my shoes and a medical file that would destroy him.
Chapters
share

Chapter 3

Kacie Oliver POV

The air in the hospital room was stifling, a nauseating cocktail of sharp antiseptic and cloying lilies.

In the corner, a cameraman from the Family's PR team stood like a sentinel, recording every frame. Jayden was live-streaming directly to the Outfit's internal network.

"I just want everyone to know I'm okay," Jayden murmured to the camera, her voice trembling with practiced perfection.

She looked small and fragile in the hospital bed, a stark contrast to the pure malice in her eyes when she flickered her gaze toward me.

"It was just an accident. I know... I know Kacie didn't mean for the rumors to start."

She paused, looking at Cedric for validation. He nodded at her, encouraging her performance of benevolence.

"I forgive you, Kacie," she said, turning the camera slightly so I was forced into the frame. "We're sisters now."

I felt bile rise in my throat. It was a masterful trap. If I denied it, I looked like a heartless monster. If I accepted it, I admitted guilt.

"Thank you, Jayden," I said, my voice flat. "I'm glad you're recovering so quickly from such a... traumatic event."

I straightened my spine, seizing the only opening I had.

"We should do a blood test," I added, looking directly at Cedric. "Just to make sure there are no lingering toxins. Given the severity of your reaction."

Jayden's eyes widened in genuine panic. "No! I hate needles. Cedric, please, don't let them stick me."

Cedric stepped forward, placing a protective hand on her shoulder. "No tests. She's been through enough."

He looked at me with heavy disappointment. "Stop pushing, Kacie."

I turned and walked out of the room without another word.

I didn't stop walking until I reached the elevator. I considered letting the doors close and simply walking right out of the hospital, disappearing into the night.

But where would I go? I had no money, no allies, and a heart that could give out if I ran too fast.

That evening, dinner at the Moon Estate was a torture session.

Cedric's parents, Carroll and Burt, sat at the heads of the long mahogany table like statues of judgment. They were the Old Guard-ruthless, traditional, and entirely charmed by Jayden.

"Jayden, darling, you must eat," Carroll cooed, pushing a plate of roast duck toward her. "You need your strength."

She didn't even look at me. To her, I was nothing more than a vessel too cracked to carry a strong heir. A waste of a marriage license.

I picked at my food, my appetite nonexistent.

Under the table, I caught a glimpse of movement. Cedric's hand was resting on Jayden's knee. He was rubbing her leg in slow, soothing circles.

I dropped my fork. It clattered loudly against the china, shattering the polite silence.

"Is something wrong, Kacie?" Burt asked, his voice sharp.

"I'm not hungry," I said quietly.

Cedric didn't remove his hand. He was peeling a shrimp with his other hand, placing the meat delicately onto Jayden's plate. He leaned in, whispering something in her ear that made her giggle.

I felt invisible. I was a ghost haunting my own marriage.

"Oh, Cedric made his special fish soup," Jayden announced, her eyes gleaming. "He only makes it for special occasions. Remember when we were kids? You made it for me when my dad died."

"I remember," Cedric said softly.

"Here, Kacie," Jayden said, standing up. She picked up the tureen. "Let me serve you. It's delicious."

She walked around the table to my side. She leaned down, bringing the heavy bowl close to my face, invading my personal space.

"You know," she whispered, her voice dropping so low that only I could hear the venom, "there was a betrothal contract. Between me and Cedric. Long before you came along with your sob story."

My hand shook. I jerked back instinctively, hitting the ladle.

Hot soup splashed over the rim, scalding my arm.

"Ow!" Jayden screamed, dropping the tureen.

It shattered on the floor. She threw herself backward, clutching her foot dramatically. "She burned me! Cedric, she burned me!"

I stared at the red, blistering skin on my own arm. The pain was sharp, immediate, and real.

But Cedric wasn't looking at me.

He was already out of his chair, scooping Jayden up into his arms.

"It's okay, I've got you," he said, panic in his voice.

He rushed her out of the dining room, stepping over the broken pottery and the soup pooling around my feet.

He didn't look back.

You may also like

Beauty In The Boy's Dorm  Novel Cover
8.6
"What do you think people would say if they found out you don't have a dick?" Christian asked, his voice low and dripping with seduction. His hand pressed firmly against my crotch, fingers exploring the flat, unfamiliar emptiness there. A devilish smirk curved his lips. "Or if they discovered these voluptuous breasts you've been hiding so well?" A strangled moan slipped from my throat as his hand slid under my shirt, his fingers brushing over my hardened nipples, teasing them with slow, deliberate strokes. "Which do you think they'd call you?" he murmured, eyes gleaming. "A boy with tits... or a dickless little fraud?" I stared into his hungry blue eyes, words failing me. "The term you're looking for is 'girl,'" came Xavier's smooth voice from the bathroom doorway. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a soft click, his gaze raking over me with open interest. "So tell me, little girl... what the hell is someone like you doing in an all-boys dorm?" Christian's smirk widened. "She wants to be devoured by boys like us." His fingers gave my nipple one last firm pinch before he leaned in closer, breath hot against my ear. "And I'll be more than happy to give her a taste."
BLOODBOUND EMPEROR Novel Cover
7.8
Alec Draven, the ruthless Mafia Emperor of Valorian City, rules with fear and iron control-until he meets Mira, a mysterious woman who offers him a dangerous, secret, all-consuming arrangement. In a world of crime, magic, and forbidden desire, their private bond becomes the one thing powerful enough to destroy them both.
From Discarded Wife To The Don's Successor Novel Cover
8.4
I was tightening my husband’s tie for the photographers at the gala when my phone buzzed against my thigh. A single notification stopped my heart dead. Julius had just wired five million dollars—capital I had secretly stolen from my father to build his company—to an account named 'K. Drake'. When I confronted him later that night, he didn't apologize. Instead, he lured me to an empty warehouse and detonated a rigged gas line. I woke up in a hospital bed, my body broken and my mind racing. Julius stood over me, checking his watch, looking terrifyingly calm. "The baby is gone," he said dismissively, referring to the pregnancy I hadn't even told him about yet. "But Kenzie needs a bone marrow transplant. You're a match." He was holding our daughter, Ava, hostage. He told me if I didn't give his mistress my marrow, I’d never see my child again. He looked at me with total contempt. To him, I was just a boring, civilian housewife. A prop he had used and was now ready to discard. He had no idea who I really was. He didn't know that the "bank loans" I secured for him were actually laundered syndicate money. He didn't know that the father I "didn't talk to" was Horacio Horton, the most feared Don on the East Coast. I let them take the marrow. I let them believe they had broken me. Then, as soon as Julius left the room, I reached for the phone and dialed a number I hadn't used in ten years. "Papa," I whispered into the receiver. "Send the army." The civilian Florence died in that bed. The Mob Princess had just returned to take her throne.
He Chose His Pregnant Mistress, So I Chose His Mafia Boss Novel Cover
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 Doll Novel Cover
9.7
In the shadow of a brutal underworld, a woman finds herself trapped as a captive to a ruthless mafia kingpin. Treated as a mere ornament in his dangerous world, she must navigate a landscape of violence and betrayal. As she struggles to reclaim her autonomy, an unexpected and volatile romance ignites between the captor and his prize. Survival depends on her wits as she balances the thin line between submission and her own hidden strength.
Rising From The Grave As A Queen Novel Cover
9.6
I was tracing the gold paint on my own tombstone when a hand tapped me on the shoulder. It was Clayton. The same man who, five years ago, had left me bleeding out in a ditch because he didn't want to be late for my sister’s engagement party. "Die quietly, Ivy," he had said over the phone before hanging up. Now, standing over my grave, he dropped his cheap plastic flowers in shock. "Ivy? You're... we buried you." They hadn't buried me. They had buried an empty box to save face, mourning a "troubled" daughter they had actually discarded like broken trash the moment I became a liability. Clayton’s shock quickly turned to that familiar, arrogant anger. He accused me of faking my death for attention. He told me I was sick for putting the family through such pain. He even reached out to grab my arm, intending to drag me back to my father to apologize. "You're coming with me," he spat. "You owe us an explanation." But he made a fatal mistake. He thought he was talking to Ivy Dillard, the soft girl who cried when she skinned her knees. He didn't notice the town car waiting at the curb, or the man stepping out of it. Before Clayton’s fingers could graze my coat, a hand made of steel caught his wrist. Collin Richardson, the most feared Capo in Chicago, stepped between us. "Touch my wife again," Collin whispered, his voice promising violence. "And you lose the hand." I smiled at the terror draining the color from Clayton's face. I didn't come back from the dead to explain myself. I came back to bury them.