

To get a divorce from Dante Conti, I volunteered to walk away with nothing—even our three-year-old son. Seeing that I had deliberately changed back into the old clothes I wore before marriage, Dante froze for a moment, then sneered, "So? You don't even want Nico, the heir you fought so hard to give birth to?" "Careful. Play your part too long, and you won't be able to recover the scene," he warned. I pushed the signed agreement toward him. "Don't worry. This isn't acting." Dante shot me a puzzled look before signing his name. "So obedient? Fine. I'll be magnanimous and let you see Nico from time to time." He set down the pen, his gaze appraising me. "And if you regret it… come to me now, and maybe—just maybe—we could remarry—" I cut him off, standing and walking away without a word. He had thought I married him for the Mafia's power, that's why I had given him an heir to inherit his family. But once he knows I'm dead, there will be no more misunderstandings.

Underground black boxing champion Axel is actually an undercover agent of the Russian mafia, tasked with infiltrating the side of mafia godfather Danteto steal secrets. During a boxing match, Axel defiantly provoked Dantein public, and the two engaged in a fierce melee inside the octagon. Axel deliberately held back during a fatal blow, successfully arousing Dante's desire to conquer, and was smoothly taken back to the manor to become a personal bodyguard. Late at night, Axel sneaked into the study to crack the safe but was caught red-handed by Dante. Facing the risk of exposure, Axel used a forged love letter as a cover to skillfully defuse Dante's deadly test, but inadvertently stirred up the godfather's morbid possessiveness and control desire. At a gang dinner not long after, an assassination attempt on Dantecame out of the blue. To completely win the target's absolute trust, Axel didn't hesitate to throw himself in front of Dante, taking a fatal bullet for him. Seriously injured and on the verge of death, Axel shocked the usually cold-hearted godfather, who even lost control and personally operated on him to remove the bullet. As a reward for ""giving his life,"" Dantegave Axel the S-level pass that symbolized the highest authority in the manor. From then on, Axel successfully infiltrated the heart of the empire with his self-inflicted injury ruse, and a deadly game full of lies and temptations officially kicked off.

Late one night, a thread blew up and hit the front page of a famous forum deep in New York’s underworld. The original poster had dug up an old prompt: “Name three words that sum up your youth.” Then an account that’d been dormant for years popped up in the replies. Its avatar was a backlit silhouette of a girl in a white dress, username: Seraphina. That was Seraphina Rossi. The Rossi family heiress, the undisputed it girl of New York’s underworld. She typed: Vibrant. Passionate. And Rico Valentino. All hell broke loose in the thread. The wild Valentino’s heir and the breathtaking Rossi heiress had once loved each other hard, only for it all to end in bitter regret. Nearly everyone in New York’s underworld had watched that heartbreak play out. Including me. I turned my head, staring at the man sleeping beside me. This was the man next to me: the once reckless kid who’d ruled the streets of Queens with his bare fists, now the Don of the Valention family. Poised. Unshakable. And he didn’t love me. I’d always known Rico still kept in touch with Seraphina. That he’d met her in secret, more than once. That’s why he’d refused to make our marriage public. His excuse was always the same: “Keeping your identity off the grid keeps our enemies from targeting you.” But I knew I was the one standing between Rico and the woman he’d never stopped loving. If all three of us were just going to keep hurting like this? I’d rather walk away. Let them have each other. I’d made up my mind. I was divorcing Rico.

Late one night, a thread blew up and hit the front page of a famous forum deep in New York’s underworld. The original poster had dug up an old prompt: “Name three words that sum up your youth.” Then an account that’d been dormant for years popped up in the replies. Its avatar was a backlit silhouette of a girl in a white dress, username: Seraphina. That was Seraphina Rossi. The Rossi family heiress, the undisputed it girl of New York’s underworld. She typed: Vibrant. Passionate. And Rico Valentino. All hell broke loose in the thread. The wild Valentino’s heir and the breathtaking Rossi heiress had once loved each other hard, only for it all to end in bitter regret. Nearly everyone in New York’s underworld had watched that heartbreak play out. Including me. I turned my head, staring at the man sleeping beside me. This was the man next to me: the once reckless kid who’d ruled the streets of Queens with his bare fists, now the Don of the Valention family. Poised. Unshakable. And he didn’t love me. I’d always known Rico still kept in touch with Seraphina. That he’d met her in secret, more than once. That’s why he’d refused to make our marriage public. His excuse was always the same: “Keeping your identity off the grid keeps our enemies from targeting you.” But I knew I was the one standing between Rico and the woman he’d never stopped loving. If all three of us were just going to keep hurting like this? I’d rather walk away. Let them have each other. I’d made up my mind. I was divorcing Rico.

I married Don Matteo in secret. Every time he fucked his childhood sweetheart, he promised me a real wedding,in front of the Five Families. For five years, Matteo promised me ninety-nine times. And ninety-nine times, he left me at the altar. The first time, Cecilia’s prize-winning show cat died. To comfort her, he postponed the wedding for three months. I stood at the altar alone, eyes red, trying to calm down the family elders. The second time, Cecilia threw a tantrum at a casino and shattered a hundred-million-dollar antique vase. He diverted the private jet meant for their wedding and rushed through the night to clean up her mess. And every time, right before our wedding, his childhood sweetheart would have some kind of emergency. I cried. I screamed. I even held a gun to his head. But Matteo would just pin me against the wall and shut me up with a cold, hard kiss. “She’s just a fuck. You are Mrs. Falcone. Have some goddamn class.” After the ninety-ninth time, I was finally done. I slid the papers across the table. The ink was still wet, the Falcone family seal stamped at the bottom. “Our marriage, our alliance—it’s over.”

My father was one of the first dons to rise out of the Naples mob. My mother was an iron-fisted businesswoman with a reputation that made grown men flinch. When I was ten, somebody had the nerve to hijack one of my father's freight ships. He had the man's arms and legs broken with a crowbar, then stuffed a handful of gold rings down his throat — told him to count his money while he crawled. When I was fifteen, some scheming woman tried to get her claws into my father. My mother hired the filthiest pimps off the docks, shipped her down to a back-alley bar in Marseille, and told her to make her own way. And me — I grew up running the streets of Naples like I owned them. The sons of every other family knew to call me Miss Ferrante and keep their hands to themselves. Then I met him. A rough, quiet man fresh out of the army. For him I put down the knives, traded the silk for plain cotton, and followed him back to that little nothing of a coastal town, Porto Scuro. Today my mother-in-law and my husband went down to the dock warehouses to settle a dispute. They held her face down in a barrel of rotting fish guts. They kicked in three of his ribs. I stared at the salt fish I'd been slicing on the kitchen board, let out a cold laugh, and brought the knife down so hard the oak split in half. Then I dialed my father's private line.

I was slowly dying from Silverthorn Wolfsbane, and there was only one cure—the Miracle Elixir. But my mate, Leo Ashford, bought it and gave it to my adoptive sister, Jane Smith. He did it because he thought I was faking my illness. I gave up on the treatment and swallowed a potent painkiller instead. It would kill me in three days by shutting down my organs. In those three days, I gave up everything. I handed over the fur manufacturing business I built from the ground up to Jane, and my parents praised me for caring about my sister. I offered to sever our mate bond, and Leo praised me for finally being sensible. When I told my son he could call Jane "mommy", he happily said that his new mommy was the best! I transferred all my savings to Jane, and no one seemed to notice anything out of the ordinary. They were just pleased with my "better behavior". "Viola is finally not so bad." I wondered—would they regret it after I was gone?

At my wedding, my fiancé abandoned me at the altar and walked straight toward my sister, Hazel. All the guests mocked me. Someone remarked, “As expected, there isn’t a man in the world who won’t fall for Hazel—this is already Ivy’s fifth boyfriend who has confessed his feelings to Hazel.” Hazel put on a helpless look, "Sorry, Ivy. I was just trying to help you test your fiancé’s loyalty. Looks like I’ve messed up your wedding again." I stood there, humiliated, but then Alessio Vitale—the most feared mafia boss in New York—stepped forward. He took my hand, looked at the priest, and married me instead. After that, Hazel tried more than once to catch Alessio’s eye. But every time, he called her out in front of everyone. “Hazel, you should know your place. Stop throwing yourself at me,” he’d say, his voice cold and sharp. For three years, Alessio gave me everything. He made me feel safe, cherished, like the luckiest woman in the world. One day, I came home early from a business trip and wanted to surprise him. When I reached his study, his underboss’s voice rang out from inside. “Don Vitale… the Donna’s sister is pregnant with your child. What if she finds out?” Alessio’s answer came low and flat. “Hazel and I… it was just a mistake. Ivy must never know. Keep it from her. I’ll make it up to her later.” I was stunned by the revelation. My heart ached at his lies. Instead of confronting Alessio, I turned away and quietly returned to our bedroom. He had promised me honesty when he married me. Yet, now he lied. So I would leave him—and I would never look back.