

Frank Carter spent forty years providing for his family, only to be humiliated when his wife, Evelyn Hayes, snapped the fishing rod he saved for months to buy. This time, he stops giving in. Freezing his pension card, filing for divorce, and reclaiming what is his, Frank walks out with an old suitcase and finally learns to put himself first.

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.

Before the Visconti family's truce banquet began, only two seats remained empty at the long table. One was at the far end. The other was to the left of Lucas Visconti, the man I'd married under contract. Three months earlier, to settle a blood debt hanging over my father, I'd signed a marriage contract and become the secret wife of the youngest Mafia boss in New York. According to the seating chart approved and sealed by both families' consiglieri, Sophia Vitali, their negotiator, was supposed to sit at the far end. The list hadn't been changed, but the place cards on the table had been swapped. I had just started toward Lucas when he looked up. "Sophia, take this seat." The banquet hall fell silent. Enzo, the Vitali family's consigliere, stiffened. "Is this a gesture of goodwill, or are we to understand that Sophia is now under your personal protection?" Adrian, Lucas's consigliere, spoke under his breath. "Boss, the official seating chart hasn't been amended. We can still fix this." Roman Hayes, the underboss, also stopped the estate manager from setting out any more silverware. But Lucas overruled the objections. Sophia's brother Dominic had taken a bullet for Lucas six years ago and died of his wounds three days later. "She's here for the negotiations. I take full responsibility." Enzo demanded that the incident be entered into the truce minutes and reserved the right to suspend the talks. Lucas didn't back down. Throughout dinner, he fielded every toast meant for Sophia, using the negotiations as his excuse. When a waiter knocked over a champagne flute and broken glass sliced my wrist, he didn't even turn around. I slipped off the obsidian ring reserved for the Visconti inner circle and set it on the table. Adrian and Roman's expressions changed in unison. Lucas had forgotten the one thing that mattered: the secret wife he'd kept in the shadows was the only person who could unlock every dark secret of both families.

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.

On my son Luca’s seventh birthday, the Vitale estate came under attack. While bullets tore through our home, I shielded him alone—because his father, Dante, the Don of the Vitale family, was once again with his widowed sister-in-law Lucia and her son. After ten years of broken promises, canceled weddings, and always coming second, Luca’s terrified wish finally shattered what was left of my heart: he didn’t want his father to come home anymore. So I made my decision. In seven days, I would take Luca to Sicily—and this time, we would never return. But just as I packed our bags and hid the tickets, Dante walked in.

Waking up in the future President’s bed, the mafia don realized the escort he bought last night was no ordinary male hustler. As deadly secrets turn a paid thrill into raw obsession, are they bound for eternal bedtime secrets—or true love?

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.

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.

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.

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.