Is Marjorie Orbin And Me: The Raw Jail Tapes Worth Reading?

"I gave him a crown. He gave me a prison cell." Isabella was the ghostwriter of the Rossi dynasty. She was the brain, the backbone, and the secret weapon. She sacrificed her name, her pride, and her light to make Antonio Rossi a God among men. Her reward? A public arrest. A framed conviction. And a daughter who was brainwashed into calling her a monster. While Isabella rotted in a maximum-security cell, Antonio was busy planning the 'Wedding of the Century' with the woman who helped him destroy her. They took her freedom, her child, and her dignity. But they made one fatal mistake: They let her live. Five years come and pass in a blur nobody expects.Isabella isn't the soft, sacrificial wife anymore. She is a woman with a heart of ice and a bank account that rivals the devil’s. Antonio thinks he’s at the peak of his power. He doesn't realize that the woman he discarded is back and she’s not looking for an apology. She’s looking for blood.

​"They called him the Prison Boss —a bloodthirsty monster who ruled the cells and terrified the guards. And I was the rookie cop they threw to the wolves." ​Valeska wanted to earn her badge without her multi-millionaire father’s influence. But her bravery backfires when she’s assigned to Area 4—the personal kingdom of the notorious brutal prison boss, Dante Cross. ​She swore she wouldn’t break. She swore she would look the monster in the eye and show no fear. ​But pride comes before the fall. ​Cornered in the dark, the Prison Boss rapes her, shattering her courage and leaving her trembling, terrified, and bearing a scar that will haunt her forever. ​Worse than the pain is the look in his eyes. The amused glint he wore whenever she challenged or ordered him around is gone. In its place is a dark, cold, soul-wrenching gaze that freezes the blood in her veins. ​She thought it was a one-time nightmare. But as he looks down at her with that terrifying, absolute possession, she realizes the truth... ​He isn't done with her. This is only the beginning.

My husband, Don Lorenzo, ran New York's underworld. And he's the one who put me in prison. All because his childhood flame, Cassandra Viti—the Viti family princess—killed my father. I was the first one on the scene. The Feds caught me standing over the body. He faked the evidence. Made sure I took the fall. I spent three years in hell. His apology? A single sentence and an unlimited black card. "I owe Cassandra three wishes. Once you're out, once I've paid my debt to her, you'll be my Donna again."

My husband, Jacob Morris, wrongly believed that I had pushed the woman he loved down the stairs. So, he locked me in the basement to make me reflect on my actions. He hired people to punish me, trying to break my spirit. I suffered inhumane torture. My tendons were cut, and my face was disfigured. Four years later, he finally remembered me and let me out. But by then, I was too broken to love him anymore.

Crossing paths with Warren Parker is the biggest nightmare of my life. He admits my mother to a psychiatric hospital. He causes my younger brother and sister to drop out of school. He forces me to kneel before him, to dress as a woman, and to live a life devoid of any dignity. When I try to end my life, he stops me. "Your brother doesn't satisfy me the way you do. You can die once I'm bored with you."

I married Rafe Maretti—the man who owned the Maretti Casino empire. Sophisticated, ruthless, but sinfully charming. By year three of our marriage, I introduced my little sister to his nephew, Adam Moretti—twenty-five, all sharp smiles and sharper ambition. He ran the dirtier side of the family’s business—arms, drugs, the kind of trade that dripped blood and money in equal parts. I married the powerful, irresistible uncle. She married the young, dangerous nephew. It was supposed to be our fairytale. Then one day, I got kidnapped in Rafe’s casino. Snatched by a rival mafia family desperate to force Rafe to sign over one of his biggest, most profitable casinos. Except Rafe didn’t answer the phone or even notice I was gone. The kidnappers grew impatient. First, it was slaps. Then punches. Then they shattered my leg and buried a knife in my stomach. Still no word from my husband. Until finally, after what felt like a hundred unanswered calls, a single message came through. "I’m with Bianca. She’s having a stomach. Stop calling." Once the kidnappers realized I had no value, they dumped me in a rotting warehouse like discarded luggage. It was Isla, my sister, who found me. She got me out. And then the brakes failed. The car spun out. Isla went unconscious beside me. I tried calling Adam. Isla’s husband. But as soon the call went through, all I could hear was. “Leave me along. Isla, I am in the middle of something here.” When I clearly heard a woman’s voice in the back. If not for a passing stranger, Isla and me wouldn’t have made it to the hospital, let along have survived. So when I opened my eyes again, the first thing I thought was: I’m divorcing that sorry bastard. The Maretti can go to hell.