Why Does Joe Estevez: Wiping Off The Have Mixed Reviews?

"It's my mother's 60th birthday today, but you brought home your first love, and you're asking for a divorce? Couldn't you have waited just one more day?" "Nope!" "Fine. I agree to the divorce. From this day onward, we no longer have anything to do with each other!" After the divorce, a beautiful CEO, a superstar diva, and even a princess all begin making their moves. After the divorce, I stand unrivaled as an expert in both medicine and martial arts, my power and influence unmatched. After the divorce, your family falls apart, losing everything. I know your heart is breaking, and regret is eating you alive, but why are you sobbing at my feet now?

Ten years. Ten years I gave Viktor Volkov everything; my hands, my loyalty, my designs, my silence. When his father stepped in front of a moving truck to save my life and died on that pavement, I became his son's by debt. By duty. And somewhere along the way, by something far more dangerous than either. Love. Foolish, one-sided, ruinous love. Now the doors of the Volkov estate are closing behind me with the quiet finality of a verdict. No argument. No goodbye worth remembering. Just the click of a latch and the ghost of a matching tattoo Viktor had lasered off his wrist before she arrived Elara Conti, all silk and Italian marble, the woman he chose in the time it took me to stop pretending he ever saw me. He gutted my studio. Erased my name from every wall. Turned ten years into a footnote. What Viktor doesn't know is that I'm walking out of those gates carrying the one thing he can never erase. His. And I will burn this entire life to the ground before I let him find out.

Five years into my marriage to Dante Moretti, the Don of the Chicago Outfit, the entire underworld knew he loved me more than life itself. He’d had a violin—for me—tattooed right next to his family crest, a symbol of loyalty that could never be erased. Until I got the photo from his mistress. A cocktail waitress, sprawled naked in his arms, her skin marred by the dark bruises of rough sex. She had scrawled her name right next to the violin he’d gotten for me. And my husband had let her. "Dante says only being inside me makes him feel like a man anymore. You can’t even get him hard anymore, can you, sweet Alessia? Maybe it’s time to step aside." I didn't reply. I just made a single call. “I need a new identity. And a plane ticket out.”

On our seventh wedding anniversary, I was straddling my Mafia husband, Lucian, kissing him deeply. My fingers fumbled in the pocket of my expensive silk dress, searching for the pregnancy test I'd hidden there. I wanted to save the news of my unexpected pregnancy for the end of the evening. Lucian's right-hand man, Marco, asked with a suggestive smile in Italian: "Don, your new little canary, Sophia. How does she taste?" Lucian's mocking laughter vibrated through my chest, sending a chill down my spine. He replied, also in Italian: "Like an unripe peach. Fresh and tender." His hand was still caressing my waist, but his gaze was distant. "Just keep this between us. If my Donna finds out, I'm a dead man." His men chuckled knowingly, raising their glasses and swearing their silence. The warmth in my blood turned to ice, inch by inch. The one thing they didn’t know was that my grandmother was from Sicily, so I understood every word. I forced myself to remain calm, keeping the perfect smile of a Donna fixed in place, but the hand holding my champagne flute trembled. Instead of making a scene, I opened my phone, found the invitation I had received a few days ago for a private international medical research project, and tapped "Accept." In three days, I would disappear from Lucian's world completely.

If you’re filthy minded, step inside the doors of Dirty Angels and order a drink. Dirty Angels is a cocktail bar where desire, power, and bad decisions collide. Everyone who walks through its doors is hiding something, and everyone wants something they shouldn’t. The story unfolds through rotating points of view, each character given five chapters at a time to reveal the dirty business they’re involved in. Mafia deals. Billionaire secrets. Bad boys with dangerous appetites. Obsessions that refuse to stay buried. Each arc can be read on its own, but together they weave into a larger, darker story as the full truth behind Dirty Angels slowly comes into focus. At the centre are Marisol and Ethan, locked in a volatile enemies-to-lovers dynamic neither of them is willing to name. Around them orbit lovers, rivals, and predators: a mafia ex who won’t let go, a billionaire with too much power, a shark lawyer who knows exactly where the bodies are buried, and a found family bound together by loyalty, desire, and shared secrets. Dirty Angels attracts those who crave the forbidden. Boundaries blur. Power shifts hands. Desire takes many forms, and not everyone is looking for love. Some will find it anyway. Others will burn everything down on the way. Tropes & Themes: Enemies to lovers • MM • MMF • FF • Power dynamics • Daddy energy • Age gap (all adults) • Step-relations (adults) • BDSM themes • Obsession • Found family • Dark desire

The Don of the Vito family, Damiano Vito, has broken his wedding vows by cheating on me with the daughter of the rival mafia family, Bianca Sorace, while I'm still pregnant with his heir. He ends up executing Bianca with his own hands in order to reassure me as well as provide my family, the Cappas, with a satisfactory answer. My parents advise me, "Now that Damiano has returned to your side, you mustn't kick up a fuss for the sake of both families' interests." But since then, I've developed an obsession over cleanliness. Any form of physical contact is capable of making me dry-heave out of discomfort. Since I can't take any medication at all, I can only spend my days venting my stress by demanding that everything be disinfected before touching me. Damiano, who's known for having a violent temperament, is willing to keep disinfecting himself repeatedly for my sake. If he needs to make physical contact with me, he'll wear gloves. Whenever he enters my room, he has to change into a biohazard suit. No matter how hot and stuffy it gets under the suit, he doesn't utter a word of complaint. "It's fine. I was the one who broke the wedding vows first, anyway." Finally, the moment I command Damiano to wash his hands yet again, he loses control of himself before me. He even goes so far as to shatter the ashtray right before my eyes. "That's enough! All I did was make the mistake every man is capable of making! Must you humiliate me to this degree? How does that make me a filthy man?" Damiano deliberately allows his subordinates, who are drenched in blood, to throw a party in the estate, thinking that it serves as a punishment for my obsession over cleanliness. He intends to force me to yield to him by threatening the baby in my belly. Thanks to the nonstop aggravation, I feel intense pain flaring from my abdomen. Soon, blood keeps oozing down my inner thighs beneath my skirt. But at the same time, I feel a sense of relief that I've never felt before. "Let's get a divorce, Damiano."