

On the eve of her wedding to Vincent, heir to Chicago's most powerful crime family, Elena Costa is asked to give up everything — her title as godmother, her ceremony, her fiancé — to his first love, Sofia. She refuses. Sofia jumps into the sea. Vincent blames her for it, and spends the next thirty years freezing her out — until his dying breath, when he tells their children: "Don't bury me next to Elena." She wakes up. It's the night before the wedding again. This time, when Vincent asks her to step aside, Elena doesn't fight for him. She signs the papers, burns her wedding dress, and walks away from the family, the title, and the man who never once chose her — flying straight into the career she'd always denied herself. But letting go doesn't stop the truth from catching up to him. And when it does, Vincent will spend everything he has left trying to earn back a woman who's already stopped waiting.

I secretly married Don Matteo, the most feared man in New York. For five years, he promised me a real wedding in front of the Five Families. He promised me ninety-nine times. And ninety-nine times, he left me at the altar—for his childhood sweetheart, Cecilia. Every time, she had an emergency. Every time, Matteo chose her. I cried. I begged. I even held a gun to his head. But he only sneered, “She’s nothing. You’re Mrs. Falcone. Know your place.” Until the ninety-ninth time. I finally stopped waiting. I placed the divorce papers—and the Falcone family alliance contract—before him. “Our marriage is over.” “So is our alliance.”

Vincenzo Moretti was Stonehaven’s youngest financial titan— a tech mogul commanding a multibillion-dollar empire, gracing the covers of business magazines as a modern legend. But only a select few knew the truth: he was also the ruthless Don controlling the East Coast mafia. To him, wealth and power were mere chips in a game. And I? I was just another pawn used to stabilize a fragile family alliance. In our ten-year marriage, he slept with my friends, my coworkers… every single person I once trusted. Then one morning, as I took our one-month-old baby for a routine checkup, Sienna Newton, his latest mistress, ran me down with her car. The baby screamed endlessly. I begged her to take us to the hospital, and when Vincenzo arrived, he looked at me with cold disdain. “Isabella,” he sneered, “when did you learn to stage accidents? “Even if you died here, I wouldn’t bat an eye.” Then he took Sienna’s hand and walked away without a backward glance. By the time I was rushed to the hospital, the child in my arms had suffocated. Upon hearing the news, my mother suffered a heart attack. She didn’t survive. I slipped into a coma for two days. When I finally woke up, I found out that Vincenzo never visited. Instead, his father, Renato Moretti, the true king of the Moretti empire, stood by my bedside. I looked at him calmly and said, “Let me go. Whatever I owed your family, I’ve repaid in full with two lives.” Later, that same Don who had once looked down on me knelt before me, begging me to come home. But I was no longer the woman who waited, silent and broken, for his change of heart. I was the Don’s wife who turned away and never looked back.

To save Mafia heir Osvald's life, Liora faked betrayal and raised their secret daughter alone. Five years later, poison-tongued lies make him ruthlessly torment her. When the agonizing truth shatters his cold facade, the powerful Don falls to his knees, racing against death to save the dying woman he wronged.

On the night of our third anniversary, Killian missed dinner again. Texted me he was working late at the auto shop. I looked at the $5.90 clearance cake on the table. I'd fought a crowd at the grocery store to buy it. I swallowed the bitter lump in my throat. We need to save for a real house in Brooklyn, I told myself. I put the cake in the fridge. I wrapped my cheap coat tight and walked into the cold to deliver late-night takeout for extra cash. I never expected to run into my "poor" husband at a luxury hotel in Manhattan. He stepped out of a Rolls-Royce in a sharp custom suit, tossing hundred-dollar bills to the valet. A hot woman wearing a priceless pigeon-blood ruby followed behind him, hooking his arm. "Killian, it's snowing so hard. Are you really going back to Brooklyn to play house with your naive little peasant wife?" she whined. Killian looked at the cheap, tarnished silver ring on his finger. A hint of softness crossed his cold eyes. "For three years, she worked five jobs a day to pay off the fake debts I made up. She wouldn't even see a doctor when she was sick." "That's enough. She passed my test. Once I deal with the rat in the family, I'll tell her everything. Give her the glory she deserves as my Donna." The woman bit her lip. "What if she finds out you're a Mafia Don and is just after your money? Why not tell her you have a terminal illness—see if she'll drain her savings to save you. Test her one more time…" Killian stayed quiet for a long time. Finally, he nodded. "One last test. After this, I'm giving her the grandest wedding." The freezing wind howled. I gripped the paper takeout bag. Tears rolled down my face without a sound. I am done with this arrogant, lying love.

In her past life, spitfire Veronica married a golden boy while her sweet sister got the ruthless Gunrunner Don. Both ended in tragedy. Reborn with a vengeance, Veronica swaps fiancés to enter the lethal underworld.Armed with razor-sharp wit and dangerous charm, she crushes her enemies, builds an empire, and tames the mafia king.

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.

My husband, Dante, is the most untouchable Don of the Vance family in New York. He has one unbreakable rule: After 9 p.m., if he's out on family business, he does not take calls. I understood his devotion to the family, so for five years, I did my best never to disturb him. Until last night, when I was driving alone past the docks and walked straight into an ambush by a rival family's armed men. In a panic, I called Dante, begging him to save me. The phone rang for what felt like forever. When he finally picked up, his voice was ice-cold: "Nora, we've been married a long time. As the Donna of the Vance family, you should know the rules." Then he hung up. That night, I barely escaped the hail of bullets by the skin of my teeth. I spent the night in the hospital. But when I came home the next morning, all I got was a reproachful look. He accused me of interrupting a critical family shipment deal—and of sending a fake distress signal. I knew how hard he worked, so I swallowed my hurt. But later, when I used his computer, I accidentally saw his call log. One contact had been calling him almost every single night—always after nine. For five full years. I knew that number. It belonged to Alexa, the Vance family's Capo. The woman everyone in the family had agreed, for all these years, was the one truly fit to stand beside Dante. In that moment, every ounce of suppressed hurt came flooding back. After I calmed myself, I picked up my phone and found an invitation I'd received a few days ago—to an international art exhibition. And I clicked "Accept." In three days, I would disappear from his world completely.

"The explosion left Dante with amnesia — he forgot only his fiancée Elena and doted blindly on his stepsister Sophia. At the birthday party, Elena came to retrieve her grandmother’s sacred pendant. She was forced to eat allergenic mango and nearly lost her life. Sophia kept planting false evidence. The amnesiac Dante misjudged Elena, cut her piano wrist, and pushed her down from the third floor. Finding out she was not a blood daughter of the Bellini family, Elena gave up completely. She burned all her past memories and flew away to Italy. Now Dante knows the truth and comes after her. What will Elena choose?"

"On Christmas Eve, a Mafia boss strikes his eldest daughter, Vivian, from the family shareholder registry and names his younger daughter in her place—all in front of his lawyer. ""She's adopted. She's not my real daughter."" One lie is all it takes to freeze Vivian's Stanford admission review. Her younger sister crushes her acceptance letter, turns her bedroom into a cat room, and pours scalding tea over her bleeding legs. No one even remembers her eighteenth birthday. So Vivian legally severs all ties with her family and flies to California with just three keepsakes. Three years later, at an international finance summit, the youngest rising star in quantitative finance takes the stage. In the audience sit the parents who would give anything to get their daughter back. But it's too late."