The Mafia ex wife's revenge

Chapter 1: I fell to my death!

Elena's POV

“What is this?” I asked, wide-eyed, my voice barely louder than a breath.

The crisp papers in Dante’s hand shook my reflection back at me in the soft bedroom lighting. My heart was already beginning to pound in my chest, a dull throb that crawled up to my throat.

Dante’s expression was unreadable, cold, detached. The man who once made me feel like the safest woman in the world now looked at me like I was a stranger.

“Divorce papers,” he said flatly, his tone devoid of the warmth that used to soften even his cruelest words. “Obviously.”

I stood frozen. The words didn’t compute.

Divorce?

“Dante…” I took a step forward, confused, trembling. “Why?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he pulled another file from inside his blazer and tossed it onto the table beside me with a sharp thwack. The pages spilled out in a messy heap—photocopies, emails, wire transfers, photos.

“Why don’t you tell me?” he said, voice low and cutting. “Since you clearly know how to talk to my enemies so well.”

I blinked, my body rooted to the floor, eyes darting down to the documents.

A grainy image of me—no, someone who looked like me—exiting a restaurant I’d never even been to. Screenshots of messages sent from an encrypted account bearing my initials. Money wired to foreign accounts. Confidential documents leaked. Trade routes. Schedules. Names.

My hands were trembling as I gathered the papers together. The weight of them felt unbearable.

“I… I don’t understand,” I whispered, flipping through each damning page with growing panic. “This isn’t me. I didn’t do this. I swear—”

Dante let out a humorless laugh. “Save it, Elena. Do you think I’d confront you without confirmation? It came from inside. Someone loyal. Someone who doesn’t sleep in my bed and then betray me by morning.”

“I didn’t betray you!” I cried, tears already rushing to my eyes. “I don’t know who did this or why—but I swear to you, it wasn’t me!”

He stepped closer, voice hardening. “Don’t. Just… don’t. I trusted you. I let you into my world, into my secrets. And this is what I get? You took everything I gave you and spit in my face.”

“I’ve loved you from the beginning,” I said, choking on the words. “I’ve stood by you when everyone said I wouldn’t survive. When they said you’d never love anyone. I was there, Dante.”

He flinched slightly—barely—but I saw it. He was trying not to feel anything. He was trying to kill the part of himself that might have believed me.

In the distance, music floated through the walls. Elegant, haunting piano music. A romantic ballad. The very one I’d chosen for our anniversary.

The irony made my stomach twist.

That same music was playing as my world shattered at my feet.

“I don’t want a scene,” Dante said suddenly, his voice shifting from intimate to businesslike. Cold and calculated. “Some of my partners are here tonight. I’ve worked too hard for this deal to let your dramatics ruin it.”

My mouth fell open. “Dramatics?”

“We’ll make it official after tonight,” he continued. “Go out there, smile, drink something, and pretend like everything’s fine. You’ve always been good at pretending, haven’t you?”

My knees buckled slightly. I had to grip the edge of the table to stay standing.

“I don’t deserve this,” I whispered.

His gaze darkened. “No. You deserve worse.”

And just like that, he turned and walked out of the room, leaving me surrounded by paper lies, drowning in the echo of a love I thought was unbreakable.

Behind the door, laughter swelled. Glasses clinked. Our guests toasted to a future I would no longer be part of.

And I stood there, shaking, broken.

I dropped to my knees the moment Dante walked out. The papers trembled in my hands like dying birds, and still I clung to them, hoping the ink would rearrange itself and tell me something different. Something true. Something that made sense.

We had been married for two years. Two years of waking up beside him, patching bullet wounds, planning futures, hiding from enemies and sometimes from each other—but always together. And now, just like that, he wanted it to be over.

The ring on my finger suddenly felt like it belonged to a stranger. I pulled at it but it refused to come off.

“I don’t understand,” I whispered into the silence. My voice cracked and died in my throat. “What did I do?”

Tears streamed down my face. I pressed my hands to my temples, rocking slightly, trying to breathe through the avalanche crashing inside me. My chest ached like something had caved in.

Then, suddenly—My phone lit up with a string of message notifications. A dozen at once.

I reached for it with trembling fingers.

It was a message from an unknown number.

I opened the first message. Then the next. And the next.

No. No. No—no. My world was beginning to crash in front of me for the second time that night.

Photos. Dozens of them. High quality, unmistakable. Dante. Viviana.

My stepsister. My blood.

The two of them, walking through sun-drenched markets in Huawei, laughing, holding hands, disappearing into the same hotel. Sharing drinks by the pool. Dante’s hand on her waist. His mouth on her neck.

And then—

Another image. A grainy security cam still. A black SUV tailing a familiar car. The car my father had been driving the night he was killed. The report had claimed faulty brakes. But this—this showed Dante’s car following him. The timestamp was minutes before the crash.

Another document. A wire transfer to a known hitman, days before my father died.

The sender was a company under Dante's shell corporation.

I dropped the phone. My hands were numb. My heart felt like it had been split wide open.

Everything inside me turned to ash.

They took everything. My marriage. My father. My life.

And now they were out there, laughing, celebrating under the same roof where I was being buried alive in betrayal.

Rage surged through my veins, hot and blinding. I stood. I no longer cared who saw me. My vision blurred as I flung open the door and stormed out into the corridor.

Laughter and clinking glasses filled the air. People smiled, unaware that the woman they came to celebrate had just been left for dead by the man she trusted most.

I pushed past waiters, guests, polite greetings. I couldn’t hear them. Couldn’t feel anything but the fury burning through my ribs.

Then I saw her.

Viviana. Standing alone on the second-floor balcony, wine glass in hand, red lips curled in amusement as she looked out at the city like she owned it.

I didn’t hesitate. I stormed toward her, heels striking the marble like gunshots.

She turned slowly, unfazed, as though she’d been expecting me.

“Hello, sister,” she purred, raising her glass. “Lovely party.”

I slapped the glass from her hand. It shattered on the tile between us.

“You traitorous bitch!” I hissed. “You set me up!”

Her smile didn’t falter. She simply tilted her head. “Now, now. That’s no way to speak to family.”

I shoved the photos into her face. “You think I wouldn’t find out? You and Dante. Together. In Huawei. Did you enjoy sharing the man you stole from me?”

Viviana laughed softly. “Stole?” she echoed. “Sweetheart, he was never really yours.”

I stared at her, throat tight with rage. “You destroyed my life. You framed me. You killed my father—”

“Oh, please.” She rolled her eyes. “I only gave fate a little nudge. Your father was in the way. And as for Dante…” She smirked. “He came willingly. You were just convenient. Now you’re not.”

I surged forward, screaming something I couldn’t even hear. My hands grabbed her shoulders—hers grabbed mine. We struggled.

And then, everything happend so fast. First, I was tugging at her shoulders, and then, she shoved me.

The world tilted.

The balcony rail vanished behind me. My breath caught. The sky flipped above my head. I was falling.

I saw the glittering lights of the ballroom below, the soft music drifting upward, the shocked gasps from a distant crowd that hadn’t yet understood what had happened.

Then the ground rushed to meet me.

The last thing I felt was the impact.

The last thing I heard was the crunch of bone.

And the last thing I thought was—

I fell to my death.