My Husband Married the Don's Widow, Not Knowing I'm the True Mafia Heir
Chau · Completed · 6.9k Words
Introduction
Every night, after returning from Claudia’s place, he would hold me and swear, "You’re the only woman I love, Elena. Claudia has the connections I need. Once I have real power and secure my position, I’ll make you my wife in name and in public."
But as I waited for him to rise to power, what started as a political act turned into nights where he simply never came home.
Then, on Christmas, I was dragged to their engagement party—where I was beaten in front of everyone.
Our six-year-old daughter, Sophia, knelt on the floor, crying and begging him, "Godfather, please, let my mommy go..."
But Marco stayed silent.
"It’s okay," I whispered, picking up my wounded daughter. "Mommy’s going to take you somewhere that truly belongs to us."
What Marco never knew was this: I never cared about being the Donna of this small city.
I am the only heir of the Rossi family—the most powerful Mafia family in all of Sicily.
Chapter 1
My daughter Sophia couldn’t sleep, so she came looking for me.
“Mom, why hasn’t Dad been coming home lately?” Sophia’s little hand clung tightly to my pajama sleeve, her voice full of confusion.
I still didn’t know how to explain to her that her father was spending every night with another woman.
I pulled her into my arms, hiding the chill in my eyes, and lied gently, “Daddy’s just working hard.”
“Really? Christmas is almost here. Will Daddy be with us for it?”
“Of course.” I smoothed her curly hair and comforted her in the softest voice I could manage. “Close your eyes now, sweetheart. Try to sleep.”
Sophia blinked, then finally seemed to accept my words.
Her breathing became slow and even in my embrace, her little hand loosening its grip on my sleeve.
Watching her sleep, a wave of bitterness washed over me.
Nine years ago, against my family’s wishes, I gave up my place as heir to Sicily’s most powerful mafia family, just to run away with Marco to this city.
I thought I was chasing freedom and true love, that he’d love me forever and never betray me.
How laughable. In just nine years, the fairy tale was shattered.
As I quietly calculated how I could leave with Sophia without anyone noticing, the bedroom door creaked open.
Marco walked in, looking exhausted.
When his gaze landed on Sophia sleeping in bed, his eyes softened for a moment. He leaned down, wanting to kiss her forehead.
In the dim light, I could clearly see the glaring lipstick stain on his shirt collar—the shade Claudia always wore.
On his rolled-up sleeves, fresh scratch marks stood out angrily on his forearm.
My stomach churned. I forced down the nausea.
Instinctively, I raised my hand to stop him. “Don’t touch her. She has a cold.”
Realizing my tone was too stiff, I added, “I just got her to sleep. Don’t wake her.”
“How did she catch a cold?” Marco frowned, a flash of concern in his eyes. “The staff must not be taking care of her. I’ll have a word with them tomorrow.”
He didn’t seem to notice my mood, and turned to kiss me instead.
I turned my face away in disgust, letting the kiss land nowhere. “Your smell makes me sick.”
Marco stiffened, then slowly sat on the edge of the bed, his voice tired and guilty. “I’m sorry, Elena. I know I’ve been neglecting you. But you know how it is—the old boss just died, and things are complicated. Claudia holds all the key connections and resources. I have to… I have to win her over.”
Claudia Moretti was the former Godfather’s wife. She married him at thirty, and with her charm and cunning, built up her own power in the family in just a few years. Now that the old Don was gone, everyone was after the leverage she held.
As the new Godfather, Marco wanted that leverage too.
He looked up at me. “Trust me, once I get the power and secure my position, I’ll marry you right away. We’ll have a huge wedding—everyone in town will know you’re my wife.”
I stared at him, feeling only bitter irony.
He didn’t know I’d already learned the truth: to inherit the old Don’s fortune and territory, the next in line had to marry his widow. Marco had to marry Claudia and let her stay as queen.
“Go take a shower.” I closed my eyes, not wanting to watch his performance anymore. “I’m tired.”
Twenty minutes later, Marco had just come out of the bathroom when a knock sounded at the door.
It was Claudia’s housekeeper, her voice a little anxious. “Sir, Ms. Claudia says she can’t sleep and her heart’s acting up. She’d like you to come see her.”
Marco paused mid-motion, towel in hand, then snapped, “Damn it, I just wore her out so she’d finally—”
He stopped himself abruptly.
The air went still.
He turned, alarmed, to look at the bed.
I lay on my side, back to him, breathing slow and deep as if I’d long since fallen asleep.
He stared at me for a full five seconds, making sure I hadn’t reacted, then let out a long breath. He quietly pulled on his clothes and said to the housekeeper outside, “I’m coming.”
The door clicked shut behind him.
In the darkness, I opened my eyes.
Enough. This has to end.
I have to get out of here. With Sophia.
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Falling for my boyfriend's Navy brother
"What is wrong with me?
Why does being near him make my skin feel too tight, like I’m wearing a sweater two sizes too small?
It’s just newness, I tell myself firmly.
He’s my boyfirend’s brother.
This is Tyler’s family.
I’m not going to let one cold stare undo that.
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As a ballet dancer, My life looks perfect—scholarship, starring role, sweet boyfriend Tyler. Until Tyler shows his true colors and his older brother, Asher, comes home.
Asher is a Navy veteran with battle scars and zero patience. He calls me "princess" like it's an insult. I can't stand him.
When My ankle injury forces her to recover at the family lake house, I‘m stuck with both brothers. What starts as mutual hatred slowly turns into something forbidden.
I'm falling for my boyfriend's brother.
**
I hate girls like her.
Entitled.
Delicate.
And still—
Still.
The image of her standing in the doorway, clutching her cardigan tighter around her narrow shoulders, trying to smile through the awkwardness, won’t leave me.
Neither does the memory of Tyler. Leaving her here without a second thought.
I shouldn’t care.
I don’t care.
It’s not my problem if Tyler’s an idiot.
It’s not my business if some spoiled little princess has to walk home in the dark.
I’m not here to rescue anyone.
Especially not her.
Especially not someone like her.
She’s not my problem.
And I’ll make damn sure she never becomes one.
But when my eyes fell on her lips, I wanted her to be mine.
A pack of their own
HER ALPHA, HER SAVIOUR
Kane Hellboud, charm and wealth personified, wanted only me in exchange for her treatment. No cameras, isolation, or noose-like rules were part of the deal. Behind his smile? Cold, violent possessiveness that destroyed our fake marriage.
Most of all, I didn’t know the supernatural walked among us, hiding in the cracks of ordinary life. Not until Abel Stone stepped into mine—dark-eyed, sharp-tongued, and oozing dangerous promises. He’s my new boss. He shouldn’t make my skin tingle or my pulse race. I shouldn’t feel this primal pull, this illogical recognition that tugs at something deep in my bones.
Around him, lights burst, electronics fry, and something ancient in me awakens.
Kane feels it. His grip tightens, punishments turn brutal, and he hides the truth of what I am.
Trapped between two powerful men, I’m no prey, no pawn—no helpless victim.
Prisons burn. Monsters bleed. As for me? I'm the storm in skin—deadly beyond suspicion.
