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His Father's Wife

His Father's Wife

Short Story · Mafia
By:  EchoCompleted
Language: English
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10Chapters
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Synopsis

Feel-Good Story

Plot Twists

Melodramatic

Girl Power

CEO

Bias

Winning Back the Wife

Face Slapping

Regret

My marriage to Dante Moretti, the heir to the Moretti family, was arranged when we were kids. But after my father died, he publicly refused to marry me. Three times. Each time, he used his dead mother as an excuse, and I couldn't argue. The third time, I walked in on him with some starlet on the anniversary of his mother’s death, and I overheard him sneer: “A boring woman like Isabella? Who the hell would want her?” “So desperate to marry me. It’s pathetic.” I looked down at my white wedding dress, turned on my heel, and knocked on his father's door. Later, on the day I moved into the Moretti estate, I ran into Dante. He thought I was there to force his hand and ran his mouth. But he had no idea I was already his new stepmother.

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10 Chapters
Chapter 1
My fiancé, Dante, refused to marry me three times, all in the name of “honoring his mother.” The third time, I put on my wedding dress and married his father instead. If he’s so devoted, I’m sure he’ll show his new stepmother the proper respect.“That bitch Isabella! When will she get the fuck out of my life!”Dante's curse cut through the night. The lake reflected the moonlight as I hid behind the cabin, watching the man—my so-called fiancé—pinning a blonde bombshell to the deck of his yacht.Three times.He had rejected me three times.At our engagement party, in front of all Five Families, he’d said, “My mother just passed. It would be disrespectful to her memory to talk about marriage right now.”At the charity gala, he refused to dance with me. “Bella, can’t you understand the grief of a man who’s lost his mother? You’re being selfish.”And just last week, at a family gathering, he didn't even look at me. “Maybe Isabella should find someone else.”Every time, he’d used the noble e
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Chapter 2
Sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows, painting patterns on the marble floor. I walked toward the dining room in my slippers, the wedding ring on my finger a glittering reminder of last night’s unbelievable ceremony.The estate was quiet. Vincent had been gone for two hours, leaving me alone in this unfamiliar home.As I pushed open the dining room’s double doors, a figure stumbled into me from the side.“Fuck!”It was Dante.He had clearly just gotten home. His suit was wrinkled, his tie was crooked, and he reeked of booze and cheap perfume. The signs of a long night were all over his haggard face.The moment our eyes met, his surprise turned to disgust.“What the hell are you still doing here?” He shook his head, trying to clear it. “I thought I made myself clear. We’re done, Isabella. What more do you want?”I adjusted the collar of my silk robe and looked at him calmly. “Good morning, Dante.”“Good morning?” he sneered. “Cut the crap. I know why you’re here. Let me gu
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Chapter 3
Three days later, a convoy of five black SUVs rolled through the gates of the Moretti estate.I sat in the lead vehicle, watching the familiar mansion come into view. This time, I wasn’t returning as a humiliated fiancée, but as the lady of the house, bringing with me the entire inheritance my father had left me.“Mrs. Moretti, the moving trucks will be here in five minutes,” said the woman in the passenger seat. Her name was Elena, my newly hired personal assistant. She’d spent a decade on Wall Street and was an expert in law and finance.“Good.” I smoothed the lapels of my black suit. “Remember, all of my father’s documents go directly into the safe in the master bedroom.”“Yes, ma'am.”The car pulled up to the main entrance, and Antonio immediately stepped forward to open my door. He was much more respectful than he’d been three days ago.“Welcome home, Mrs. Moretti.”Home. The word sounded interesting.Just as I was about to head inside, the roar of an engine filled the air. A red
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Chapter 4
In the top-floor suite of the Golden Palace casino, the heads of the Five Families sat around a green velvet table. Soft light from a crystal chandelier filled the room, which smelled of Cuban cigars and whiskey.I was there in Vincent’s place, wearing a black silk evening gown and a Rolex I’d won in an earlier hand. The game was going well—I’d just won three rounds in a row, and my chips were stacked into a small mountain.“The new Mrs. Moretti has quite a talent for the game,” the don of the Colombo family said, raising his glass. I smiled and raised my glass in return.Just then, I saw Dante quietly slip away from the table and head down a hallway behind the main room. He was trying to be discreet, but he didn’t escape my notice.“Excuse me, I need to use the powder room,” I said, rising gracefully.The hallway was lined with Persian rugs and priceless oil paintings. My heels sank into the carpet as I followed Dante’s silhouette to the end of the hall.Suite 3508.A sliver of light
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Chapter 5
“Mother?” Dante looked as if he’d been struck by lightning. “What mother? She’s just some cheap whore who slept her way to the top! She’s—”CRACK!Vincent’s hand struck Dante’s face with a sound that echoed down the hall.“Enough!” Vincent thundered. “Isabella is my wife! She is your stepmother! How dare you speak to her that way?”Dante held his cheek, staring at Vincent in disbelief. “Wife? No! You’re joking!”“Joking?” Vincent pulled a document from his suit pocket. “This is our marriage certificate. Signed at City Hall three days ago.”The document glittered under the lights, the official seal and signatures clearly visible.Dante’s face turned as white as a sheet. “No… it’s impossible… How could you marry a woman like her?”THUD!Vincent’s foot connected with Dante’s chest, sending him sprawling to the floor. “A woman like her? She is the woman I chose! The lady of the Moretti family! And you,” he stood over Dante, looking down at him, “you are a traitor to this family.”Don Salva
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Chapter 6
Dante glared at me, the hatred in his eyes so intense it was almost tangible. After a long moment, a strange, twisted smile spread across his face.“Isabella, you think you’ve won?” His voice was low and venomous. “I’ve already written to my grandmother in Sicily. She’ll be here soon, and when she arrives, she’s going to throw a filthy woman like you out of the Moretti family. You just wait. Your little fairytale is about to end.”My stomach dropped. Don Moretti’s mother—the Matriarch, Francesca Moretti. She was a woman even Vincent respected, a legend in her own right. If she really came back…But I kept my composure. “We’ll see about that.”“See about it?” Dante’s smile grew wider, more sinister. “Grandmother despises schemers. When she finds out you’re the reason I lost my inheritance, she will make you pay. I promise you that.”“I’m the reason?” I scoffed. “That’s rich, coming from you.”“At least I have true Moretti blood in my veins!” Dante suddenly thrashed, trying to get up. “Y
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Chapter 7
The staff and guards around us lowered their heads, none daring to watch the confrontation.“I believe that’s a question for Vincent to answer,” I said, maintaining my smile. “He’ll be here shortly.”“Vincent?” Francesca scoffed. “My son, who you've clearly got your hooks into?”Just then, the roar of an engine grew louder. Vincent’s black Maserati screeched into the driveway. The door flew open, and Vincent strode out. He saw his mother and me face-to-face and immediately knew how bad it was.“Mother.” He came to my side, positioning himself slightly in front of me. “Welcome home.”“Vincent!” Francesca’s voice was sharp with emotion. “Look what you’ve done! You hurt your own son for her! How long will you let this woman fool you?”“Mother, it’s not what you think…”“Not what I think?” she cut him off. “Then tell me why Dante is broken and beaten! Why he’s been stripped of his birthright! The cause of all this is standing right next to you!”“Dante got what he deserved,” Vincent’s voic
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Chapter 8
The words hit like a bomb.Francesca collapsed into her chair. Dante’s face went completely white.Vincent just stood there, his expression a storm of conflicting emotions: anger, betrayal, pain, and maybe even relief.“It’s not possible…” Francesca whispered. “There must be a mistake…”“Matriarch,” the doctor said respectfully, “we ran the test three times. The results are conclusive. Furthermore, we found something else.”“What?” Vincent asked.“Based on the genetic profile, the boy has strong genetic markers from Eastern Europe. Russia, to be precise.”Russian ancestry. A Bratva tattoo. It all made sense.The rest of the truth wasn’t hard to uncover. Dante’s real father was a Russian mobster. His mother, and Dante himself, had been part of a long-con, a trap designed to place a sleeper agent at the head of the Moretti family.Faced with the undeniable evidence, Dante crumpled to the floor, all the fight gone out of him, and grabbed at Vincent’s legs. “Father, please, for the sake of
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Chapter 9
Vincent stormed in like an enraged lion and sent Dante flying with a single, brutal kick.“Aaargh!” Dante screamed as he crashed into a rose trellis, the thorns tearing at his clothes and skin.“Vincent…” I whispered, my strength failing.“I’m here. Don’t be afraid,” Vincent said, scooping me into his arms. “It’s over now.”Dante struggled to get up, but Vincent planted a foot on his chest, pinning him to the ground.“You think I didn’t know what you were planning?” Vincent’s voice was arctic cold. “The moment you asked to see Isabella, I knew you were up to something.”“This was a setup?” Dante stared at us in disbelief.“That’s right,” I said, still weak but my mind clearing. “We wanted to see if you’d truly changed. Clearly, you haven’t.”Vincent pulled out his phone and played a recording. It was Dante’s voice, saying the exact monstrous things he’d just said to me.“You recorded me?”“Not just recorded.” Vincent gestured to several hidden cameras in the corners of the garden. “We
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Chapter 10
On our way, we stopped in Rome for a day. That evening, as we walked near the Trevi Fountain, we saw an unexpected sight.A man, filthy and dressed in rags, was on his knees, begging from tourists. A deep, jagged scar ran from his left eye to the corner of his mouth, giving him a terrifying appearance.I didn’t recognize him at first. But when he looked up, I saw his eyes, and I knew instantly.Dante.In just three months, he had been reduced to this. Not only was his face destroyed, but it looked like his leg had been broken again. He limped more severely than ever.He saw us, too, and his eyes filled with a familiar, burning hatred.“Vincent! Isabella!” He struggled to his feet and staggered toward us. “It was you! You did this to me!”Tourists scattered, frightened by his shouting. Vincent stepped in front of me, his eyes cold as he looked at the man who was once his “son.”“Dante, how did this happen to you?” I asked. I felt no pity, only a morbid curiosity.“It’s your fault!” he s
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