The Mistress's Name On His Heart

On my wedding night, while unbuttoning my new husband's shirt, I found a fresh tattoo over his heart. A bold, jagged letter 'C'. It stood for Caren—my best friend, the girl I had raised from the servant's quarters like a sister. Jameson was the Prince of Philadelphia, and our marriage was a blood pact between mafia families. But looking at that ink, I realized he had already signed a different contract with the help. The betrayal didn't stop at infidelity. Weeks later, Caren crashed a family dinner with a "peace offering"—a cake laced with peanuts. She knew I was deathly allergic. As my throat closed up and I clawed at Jameson for the EpiPen in my purse, he didn't move. He stood there and watched me turn blue. For three eternal seconds, he hesitated, weighing the life of his mistress against the life of his wife. He wanted me to die so he wouldn't have to expose her. But I didn't die. I woke up in the hospital with the Dons of both families standing over me, waiting for an explanation. Jameson begged me with his eyes to keep his secret, whispering that he loved me and our unborn heir. I didn't cry. I simply connected my phone to the speaker and played the recording of him mocking me with Caren. Then, I looked at the man who had hesitated to save my life. "There is no heir, Jameson," I said, my voice cold as ice. "I removed it. I will not incubate the legacy of a traitor."

Chapters

Chapter 2

Lana POV

The morning sun assaulted the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Cavallaro penthouse. It offered no warmth; it felt only exposing, stripping away the shadows I had been hiding in.

Jameson jolted awake to the shrill sound of a ringtone.

It wasn't a standard trill. It was a specific, cheerful melody-one I recognized instantly because I had heard that exact chime on Caren's phone a thousand times.

He moved faster than a hungover man should, scrambling for the burner phone he thought I didn't know existed.

He answered it before his eyes were even fully open.

"Yeah?" His voice was rough, laced with a panic that had nothing to do with business.

I sat at the vanity, methodically brushing my hair, watching him through the reflection of the mirror. I had been awake for hours, staring at the evidence I'd already captured on my phone.

He softened visibly. His shoulders dropped, the tension bleeding out of him. He listened for a moment, then whispered, "I know. I know, baby. I'll fix it."

He hung up and turned to me. The shift was instantaneous. The tenderness evaporated, replaced by the cold, arrogant mask of the Philadelphia heir.

"Who was that?" I asked, my voice deadly steady.

"Business," he lied effortlessly, swinging his legs out of bed. "An issue with a shipment in Jersey. Don't worry your pretty head about it."

He stood and stretched, his body a map of beautiful, terrifying violence. Muscles carved for brutality, scars that whispered of turf wars...

And there, stark against his pectoral muscle, was that fresh, black C.

He walked toward the bathroom, ignoring the brand on his chest as if ignoring it would make it disappear. As if he hadn't carved his infidelity into his own skin.

"Jameson," I said.

He stopped, his hand gripping the doorframe. "What, Lana? I have a headache."

"You have ink on your chest."

He froze. The muscles in his back coiled tight.

Slowly, he turned around. He looked down at himself, feigning surprise, but I caught the flash of genuine fear in his eyes.

If my father-the Don of Chicago-saw that tattoo, Jameson would be a corpse before sunset. The alliance would dissolve in blood. Philadelphia would burn.

"It's nothing," he said, his voice tight. "A drunken mistake from the bachelor party. Some stripper's initial. It means nothing."

"A stripper named Caren?" I asked.

The color drained from his face.

He took a step toward me-a classic intimidation tactic. He was used to people cowering before him.

"You're crazy," he spat. "You're imagining things. Caren is your friend. She's a nobody."

"She's somebody to you," I countered. "Enough to risk a war."

He grabbed my arm, his fingers digging into my skin. "You say a word to your father, Lana, and you'll regret it. This is my city. You are my wife. You do as I say."

"Remove it," I commanded.

He blinked. "What?"

"Remove the tattoo. Today. Or I send the photo to Chicago."

He stared at me, searching for the submissive girl he thought he married. He didn't find her.

"Fine," he gritted out through clenched teeth. "I'll get it covered. But don't you ever threaten me again."

He stormed into the shower, slamming the door behind him.

My phone buzzed against the marble vanity. Another text from Caren.

Hope the honey water worked! Is he awake? I'm worried about him.

I looked at the bathroom door, listening to the water running.

I didn't reply. I was done playing sister.

Continue to next part

My husband, the ruthless Underboss of the Ewing crime family, was terrified of one thing: his dead fiancée’s memory. Or rather, her living sister, Ivana, who used that memory to turn my life into a living hell. To "apologize" for humiliating me at a gala, Corbett brought me a peace offering: a green macaron. "Pistachio," he promised. "Your favorite." I took one bite, and my throat instantly seized. It felt like barbed wire tightening around my windpipe. It wasn't pistachio. It was almond paste. Corbett knew I was deadly allergic. He used to carry my EpiPen on our first dates. As I collapsed to the floor, wheezing and clawing at my neck, a scream ripped from the guest wing. "Corbett! Help! They're posting mean comments about me again!" Ivana. Corbett looked down at me, his dying wife, and then looked toward the hallway where Ivana was crying over Instagram. He hesitated for only a second. Then he pulled his leg away from my grasping hand. "I'll be right back," he said, turning his back on me. "Just... use your pen." He ran to comfort a healthy woman while I crawled across the carpet, vision tunneling, forcing the needle into my own thigh to restart my heart. As I lay there shaking, listening to him soothe her, the last thread of love snapped. I didn't call an ambulance. I pulled a burner phone from behind the vanity mirror and texted the one man Corbett feared more than death—his rival, Don Kain Solomon. "I accept. Get me out."

Mafia Modern Romance

8.5

"He Chose Her... Then Came Back to Me"

8.5

"You don't get to hurt me and then make me responsible for how guilty you feel about it." "Friends don't stand next to you, learn everything about you, and then use it to get close to the one person they know matters." Aria thought she knew two things for certain: she was going to graduate with her best friend, Iris, by her side, and she was in love with her boyfriend, Liam. One kiss changed everything. But as the secrets of their "before" come to light, Aria realizes the betrayal didn't start at a party or in a moment of weakness. It started weeks ago, in the conversations she wasn't part of and the moments she wasn't invited to. Now, Aria has to decide if she can find herself again in the wreckage of the people she trusted most-or if some bridges are meant to be burned

Mafia Modern Romance

9.3

Luciano's Forbidden Desire

9.3

She's sin wrapped in a nun habit. He is the devil who makes her want to confess. Luciano Moretti, the mafia's most feared enforcer, kills without hesitation, prays to no god, and bleeds for the Cosa Nostra. Sister Elizabeth has spent her life behind church walls, burying her desires under layers of penance and prayer. She is supposed to be untouchable-a quiet, secluded nun devoted to faith. But when she finds him bleeding on the altar one night, their worlds collide in a sin neither heaven nor hell can cleanse. He's meant to marry her sister to seal a deal between two mafia empires. She's meant to keep her vows and distance. But temptation has a cruel sense of humour... Because he's the last man she should want. She's the only woman he can't have. But one touch, one look, and everything sacred begins to crumble. Luciano does not seek salvation. Instead, he lures her into a dangerous path, one that includes everything she is meant to avoid, and everytime she whispers "forgive me, Father," her soul sinks deeper into him. As bloodlines clash and loyalty turns to betrayal, Elizabeth learns that the war outside the chapel isn't the only one she must survive. Because Luciano's world is built on violence and secrets, one of which binds her fate to his in ways neither of them saw coming. Desire clashes with devotion. Duty turns to betrayal. And when they're both drowning in a love so forbidden, not even God can save them.

Action Mafia Romance

8.6

Mafia Betrayal: Her Escape From Darkness

8.6

The Maybach glided through rain, Dante's cold cedar cologne a familiar comfort. Seven years, my life revolved around him, my fingers on his suit cuff, a silent promise. But tonight, our normal shattered with a single phone call. He answered, speaking rapid Italian – a language he thought I didn't understand. Every word: a death knell. Confirming his engagement to Sofia Moretti, dismissing me as a 'consolation prize.' Seven years of loyalty vanished. His loving mask back, he left for his fiancée. I stumbled into freezing rain, recalling my foster past. My numb fingers dialed his mother, Isabella, demanding fifty million for my silence. Her insults didn't sting. The true gut punch: Sofia's Instagram, a prenup on Dante's desk, proudly showing *my* watch, captioned: 'Fourteen days left.' This wasn't their celebration; it was my death sentence. I wouldn't stay another day in this gilded cage. My old duffel bag, packed, waited. The Australia brochure, a childhood dream, in my pocket. This time, I would live for myself, and they would all pay.

Action Mafia Modern

9.3

MY CHOICE OF JEWEL

9.3

Molly was once the most feared underworld princess, a ruthless hacker who could burn empires with a few keystrokes. But betrayal claimed her life in flames, until fate gave her a second chance. She wakes up in the fragile body of another Molly, this one a disgraced pop idol, mocked by the media and abandoned by fans. With sharp instincts, a predator's patience, and her past life's cunning, Molly vows to rebuild this new life on her own terms. No more weakness. No more humiliation. But walking this path means crossing Kelvin Brass, the cold, calculating CEO who never believed in her, and who now finds himself intrigued by her sudden transformation. The world expects the same washed-up starlet. Instead, they see a woman reborn, sharper than before, deadlier than they could ever imagine. As Molly steps back into the entertainment world, every move shocks those around her. With a mind built for war and survival, she turns stages into battlegrounds, scandals into weapons, and rivals into stepping stones. But even she can't deny the pull of Kelvin Brass, whether as an enemy, an ally, or something dangerously in between. In a city of lights and lies, Molly must master her double life: an idol rising from ashes by day, and a shadow of her old underworld self by night. One thing is certain, anyone who underestimates her will regret it.

Action Mafia Modern

9.2

Pampered By The Ruthless Chicago Don

9.2

I was sold to Damien Russo, the ruthless Don of Chicago, as collateral in a shipping route transaction. I was expected to be a silent, obedient bride in a cold, loveless marriage. But the moment I stepped into the Russo estate, I realized my new family wanted to completely destroy me. My mother-in-law, Eleonora, and her arrogant relatives immediately targeted me. They set traps in the solarium, mocked my late mother's heritage, and tried to force me into humiliating submission using their strict mafia traditions. They wanted to break my spirit so Damien would replace me with the bride they actually wanted—a purebred mafia princess. They expected me to cower in fear, isolated and helpless, while the whole family watched my public humiliation and waited for my downfall. Did they really think I was just a fragile girl who would cry and run away? They completely underestimated the survival instincts of a woman who grew up in this bloody world. I learned long ago that tears are worthless. "My rules are simple. Vendetta is a two-way street." Instead of breaking, I smiled. I weaponized their own legendary ancestors and the sacred promise of an unborn heir to trap the Matriarch in her own rules, forcing her into a suffocating silence. If they wanted a war for the throne, I would gladly show them exactly why I am the undisputed Mafia Queen.

Action Mafia Romance

The Mistress's Name On His Heart

Chapter 2

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