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Mafia Boss's stolen sperm

Mafia Boss's stolen sperm

Mafia
last updateLast Updated : 2026-04-13
By:  Ashley ColeUpdated just now
Language: English
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Synopsis

Action

Dark Romance

Intelligent

Mafia

Decisive

Betrayal

Kingdom Building

Weak to Strong

Her dream was a child. His sperm was stolen. Their love was the target. After a devastating betrayal, Alexandra Reed vowed to never trust anyone again. Her path to a family was clear: solo motherhood via an anonymous donor. She chose the perfect profile-intelligent, healthy, safe. He was just a number. Donor #778. Liam Thorne is the most dangerous man in Veridia Bay. He rules with a code, but his world is built on control. When he discovers a vengeful ex stole his genetic legacy and gave it to a stranger, his fury is limitless. The recipient is a vulnerability he must contain: Alexandra. He confronts her with a brutal offer: a fortune to walk away. She refuses with a mother's fierce defiance. But when a sniper's bullet proves the danger is real, Liam is forced to become her ruthless protector. Trapped in a gilded cage, their hostility ignites into a desperate, consuming passion. For the first time, Liam sees a future. Alexandra sees the man behind the monster. Just as they dare to hone a chattering DNA test reveals the baby isn't his. Their love was built on a lie, engineered by enemies who wanted to break him. Now, with their newborn daughter caught in a war and their trust in ruins, they must face the ultimate truth. Is their family a biological mistake? Or the one choice that can save them both? A heart-pounding mafia romance of stolen vows, devastating lies, and the relentless power of a love that chooses, against all odds, to stay.

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70 Chapters
CHAPTER 1
The warehouse smelled of damp concrete and stale gasoline. Rain tapped a steady rhythm on the corrugated iron roof high above, a sound like distant machine gun fire. The space was vast, empty except for a single chair in the middle of the concrete floor, bolted down, and the three men standing around it.Liam Thorne stood with his hands in the pockets of his cashmere overcoat.The coat was black, absorbing the weak light from the single industrial lamp hanging directly over the chair. He didn't feel the cold. He only felt a familiar hollow focus.In the chair sat Marcus. Once a lieutenant. Now just a man sweating through his shirt, the fabric sticking to his skin in dark patches. His wrists were bound to the chair arms with zip-ties. His eyes, wide and white, flickered between Liam and the two silent men who flanked him."Liam. Boss. Please," Marcus choked out. His voice echoed in the cavernous space. "It was a mistake. A one-time thing."Liam didn't answer.He studied the man. He rem
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CHAPTER 2
Liam turned and walked away. He didn't watch the needle go in. He walked toward the large rolling door at the far end of the warehouse, his footsteps measured and sure.He heard a final, choked gasp behind him. Then silence. The only sound was the rain.He reached the door and pushed it open. The cold, wet night air hit his face. A black sedan idled by the curb, exhaust smoking in the drizzle. His driver, Aris, stood ready by the back door.Liam didn't look back. He slid into the leather seat. The door closed with a soft, solid thud, sealing him in quiet.A moment later, the front passenger door opened and Kaela got in. She placed the medical case on the floor. Viktor took the wheel from Aris, who got in the back with Liam. The car pulled away smoothly.No one spoke.Liam looked out the window at the city sliding by the glimmer of wet streets, the blur of neon signs, the dark hulks of buildings. Veridia Bay. His kingdom. A kingdom built on a code designed to keep the rot at bay. A cod
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CHAPTER 3
The sun that day was a liar.It poured through the windows of Alexandra's small apartment, painting everything in a warm, buttery gold. It lit up the dust motes dancing in the air, made the pale wood floors glow, and caught the edge of the open wedding planner on her kitchen table, turning the glossy pages into sheets of light.Alexandra hummed, a tuneless, happy sound. Her bare feet were cool on the floorboards. She spun once, slowly, in the middle of the living room, her arms outstretched. In three months, she would be Alexandra Reed-Hawthorne. The thought sent a fizzy, disbelieving laugh bubbling up in her throat.David Hawthorne. Her David. Serious, charming David with his sandy hair and his promise of a safe, steady future.The apartment was full of him. His economics textbooks stacked by the sofa. His worn leather jacket draped over a chair. The faint, clean smell of his soap mingling with her lavender candles. It felt like a shared life. It felt like a home being built, brick b
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CHAPTER 4
Alexandra felt the floor tilt. The trust fund. The vague promise of "family money" her parents had sometimes mentioned. It was never a concrete thing to her. It was a future abstraction. But to David, it had been a target. A line on a balance sheet."You proposed... for money?" she asked David, her voice barely audible.He finally looked up, and there was a flash of his old charm, now horribly twisted. "It wasn't just that, Alex. I care about you. This..." he gestured weakly between him and Chloe, "this doesn't mean anything. It's physical. What we have is real."The sheer, staggering audacity of it left her mute. She stared at this man she had loved, had planned a life with, had chosen to be the father of her future children. She saw a stranger. A handsome, greedy, hollow stranger.Chloe watched her reaction like it was a favorite show. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, completely naked, and reached for David’s shirt, pulling it on. It swamped her slender frame. "The funny
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CHAPTER 5
The decision had not come to her like an epiphany. There had been no cinematic moment of clarity, no swelling music in her head. It had arrived quietly, like a line drawn in wet sand and then hardened by the sun. One day, it was simply there- unchallengeable, irreversible.A month ago, Alexandra Reed's The world had been reduced to three faces, replayed on an endless, merciless loop.David's panicked expression, his eyes darting as if searching for an escape hatch that no longer existed. Chloe's triumphant smirk, sharp and knowing, the look of someone who hadn't just won but enjoyed the winning. And her mother's face- cool, controlled, already retreating into judgment and practicality. You need to think about appearances, Alexandra. About stability.Those faces had burned themselves into her memory with the intensity of trauma. They were not emotional impressions so much as forensic evidence, proof of what the world truly was when illusions were stripped away.Now, her world was quiet
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CHAPTER 6
LIAM’S POVMorning in the penthouse was a silent, gray affair.Liam stood at the window, a cup of black coffee in his hand. The sky over Veridia Bay was the color of old dishwater, merging with the steel-colored sea at the horizon. Below, the city was waking up, its movements tiny and insignificant from this height. The rain had stopped, leaving the streets dark and slick.He had slept for three hours. The kind of thin, alert sleep he was accustomed to. No dreams. Just darkness, and then the slow return of consciousness to the same empty space. The events in the warehouse felt distant already. A resolved transaction. Marcus was a closed file. The sister was protected. The code was intact. There was no lingering emotion about it. There was only the next item on the ledger.He placed the coffee cup on the cold marble counter. He was dressed in a charcoal suit, a white shirt with no tie. He checked his watch. 7:15 AM.At 7:30 AM precisely, the private elevator chimed.Marcos let himself
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CHAPTER 7
Liam was silent for a long moment. He looked out at the gray city. A fertility clinic. A bribed coordinator. A hacked touch. It stank of personal, not cooperate, espionage. This wasn’t about stealing intellectual property. This was about manipulating a very specific, human outcome.“Find Martin Frye,” Liam said, his tone leaving no room for discussion. “Today. I want to have a conversation with him.”"It's your building," Marcos said, already typing. "He clocks in at 8:30 AM. I've already disabled the building's security logs for your visit. The clinic's director is at a conference in Zurich. You'll be a ghost.""Good."Liam left Marcos to his screens. He went to his room, opened a wall safe behind a framed abstract painting, and removed a small, non-descript case. Inside were items like: a voice scrambler, a jammer, a pair of thin leather gloves. He didn't expect violence in a fertility clinic. But he expected lies. And he was very good at cutting through those.An hour later, Liam s
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CHAPTER 8
She hadn't brought a rival's sample to plant. In her fury, she had taken his. His own DNA, stored for future medical contingency, became her weapon. The ghost donor wasn't a stranger. It was him.The air left Liam's lungs. The scheme snapped into a new, vicious shape. This was no clinical swap. It was a crime of passion. She had stolen a piece of him to use as the decoy shell in her revenge. He looked from the damning video back to Frye. The question was no longer whose. It was why."The recipient," Liam said, the words cold and final. "Who was scheduled to receive Donor 778?"Frye turned to his computer, his hands shaking so badly he mistyped the password twice. He finally pulled up a record. "Donor #778. Profile is... generic. Excellent health, high IQ, no familial disease.""Who was the recipient?" Liam asked, the cold in his veins spreading.Frye clicked a link. A client file opened. A photograph loaded. Liam's breath caught, just for a fraction of a second.The woman in the photo
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CHAPTER 9
ALEXANDRA’S POVThe two weeks following the phone call were a study in quiet metamorphosis.Alexandra's life became a series of small, deliberate adjustments. The secret, a fragile, glowing ember, required careful tending. She moved through her days with a new, soft-focused consciousness, as if the world had been dialed down a few notches to accommodate the monumental work happening silently with her.Her body began sending its first, subtle dispatches. It wasn’t a dramatic nausea of movies. It was a persistent, low-grade queasiness that rose each late morning like a tide, smelling of the library’s old paper and the lemon-scented polish the janitors used. She kept a sleeve of bland crackers in her desk drawer. At 11:15 am, she would eat two, slowly, her eyes closed, willing her stomach to settle. The metallic taste in her mouth was constant, turning water strange and making her morning tea taste like she was sucking on a penny.The fatigue was the most profound change. It was a differ
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CHAPTER 10
A sob broke from her throat, short and sharp. Tears welled and spilled over, tracing hot paths down her temples into her hairline. She didn't try to stop them.Dr. Evans smiled, giving her a moment, then gently wiped the gel away and handed her a tissue. "It's real, isn't it?"Alexandra nodded, swiping at her face, a laugh hiccupping through the tears. "It's real.”She left the clinic with a black-and-white printout in a sealed envelope. She didn't open it on the street. She carried it home like a sacred text, her hand pressed over it in her bag.In her apartment, with the door locked behind her, she finally took it out. She sat at her kitchen table and slid the grainy image from the envelope.It was incomprehensible to anyone else. A grey oval. A white speck. A note printed at the top: 7w0d. FHR 148.To her, it was a map of everything. She taped it to the front of her journal, over the first entry. The final, irrefutable proof.The following week, the symptoms evolved. The queasiness
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