

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.

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.

Vera is an ordinary girl at Emerald Valley High School who has long suffered from bullying, but she hides a secret that no one knows—her father, Arthur, is a former mob cleaner; her mother, Trice, is a queen of financial short-selling; and her brother, Julian, is a top-tier hacker with a yandere streak. After the bullies are invited to her home as guests, the entire family sets a terrifying trap, and her brother lures the three bullies into an abandoned factory for a "game" of torture, forcing them to tear each other apart and confess their own crimes. Behind the scenes, Vera orchestrates the delivery of evidence, guiding her family to strike one by one—exposing bullying videos, short-selling the bullies' family businesses, and eliminating any loose ends. In the end, the bullies kneel and apologize in public, while their families go bankrupt and are imprisoned. But Vera's mysterious journal reveals the truth: every event was meticulously planned by her own hand; her family were merely the blades she wielded. The real game has only just begun.

“I need your help to fake a private jet crash,” I said quietly. “It’s the only way I can ever leave Luca Moretti.” People said he’d given up the Mafia throne for me. They called him the man who traded power for love— the heir who walked away from blood and gold just to marry a waitress from the slums. For years, he made the world believe in us. He built empires under my name. He sent me roses every Monday. He told the press I was his salvation. But love doesn’t always mean loyalty. While I was busy believing in forever, he was building a second home behind my back— one filled with laughter, toys, and twin sons who had his eyes. The night I disappeared, his empire burned. He tore apart cities, bribed governments, and buried men alive just to find me. But by the time he did— I was already gone. And the woman he’d once died for no longer loved him enough to stay alive.

“I need your help to fake a private jet crash,” I said quietly. “It’s the only way I can ever leave Luca Moretti.” People said he’d given up the Mafia throne for me. They called him the man who traded power for love— the heir who walked away from blood and gold just to marry a waitress from the slums. For years, he made the world believe in us. He built empires under my name. He sent me roses every Monday. He told the press I was his salvation. But love doesn’t always mean loyalty. While I was busy believing in forever, he was building a second home behind my back— one filled with laughter, toys, and twin sons who had his eyes. The night I disappeared, his empire burned. He tore apart cities, bribed governments, and buried men alive just to find me. But by the time he did— I was already gone. And the woman he’d once died for no longer loved him enough to stay alive.

Three days before my due date, my husband came home and told me he was marrying Bianca Voss. “Her baby is due any day now,” Luca said. “If I marry her, I get the Don’s seat.” I stood there carrying his child and asked, “So you want me to spend the rest of my life as your hidden mistress?” He promised me doctors, guards, money, and a guarded house outside Chicago. He said I would still be his wife in private, as long as I never appeared in front of Bianca. When I refused, he looked at me with pity, as if I was too ordinary to understand the world he truly came from. He thought I was just Aria, the quiet woman who grew tomatoes by the lake. He had no idea I was Aria Castellano, the only daughter of the Chairman of the High Mafia Commission. I looked at him and whispered, “What if I told you Bianca’s family was nothing compared to mine?”

"My name is Catherine Moretti. I’m the illegitimate daughter of a mafia family—a woman who died once and clawed her way back. In my last life, my sister Rosa pushed me toward Grayson, who was stuck in a wheelchair, so she could marry Sergei. I became his caretaker, his crutch, and his outlet for desire. Then seven bullets from a rival family tore through my womb. At that exact moment, the man who had faked being paralyzed for years stood up and shoved me into the line of fire—just to protect the “heir” growing in Rosa’s belly. I was reborn on the day of the marriage selection. I pried Rosa’s hand off mine, looked everyone in the eye, and smiled. “This time, I choose no one.” They thought I was just throwing a tantrum. They had no idea I never wanted love. I wanted the highest seat in the mafia—the one they were all fighting over. Two men, the same face, and in both lives they picked the same woman. Fine by me. Saves me the trouble of getting revenge one by one. But this time, Grayson and Sergei are losing their minds with regret."

Valerie marries mafia heir Jeno, only to discover his mistress and secret twins. Pregnant with his child and shattered, she fakes a plane crash and disappears. When Jeno finally realizes what he has lost, his desperate pursuit comes too late, leaving Valerie free to begin again.

Badass gang boss transmigrates into a simp doormat wife!She plays nice for 3 years to go home, but the system glitches right when time's up, stranding her. She drops the act, claps back at every bully at the banquet, and gets a Clapback Reward System. Now she humiliates every jerk and gets prizes for it.