Escaping My Mafia Husband Novels & Stories

the doctor said an hour later, peering over his spectacles. The math was easy. It went back to that afternoon at the Palm Valley Polo Grounds. The day Santiago stopped looking at me like a contract and started looking at me like a man. He hadn't used a thing that night. I thought the suppressants I was taking were enough to keep the plumbing dormant, but the Rivera blood was apparently too aggressive for chemicals. How was I supposed to tell a Mafia King he was having a bastard with a ghost?

That night, beneath a foreign sky and a foreign moon, I made the bravest decision of my life. I stayed. Paris became my sanctuary. A city of stone and shadow, art and rebirth. A place where the scent of Caden Wayne—Alpha of a ruthless pack union, my husband, my mate—could no longer reach me. Here, even the moon felt softer. Kinder. It did not judge me for choosing survival over devotion. I thought about how easily I had sold my wedding ring. Ten million dollars reduced to cold currency, but the weight it lifted from my soul was priceless. With that final symbol of my past gone, I buried Adele Wayne and gave birth to someone new.

On the cover was the wax seal that signified the highest authority in the mafia. He flipped to the first page. The lines accusing him of "damaging family honor and endangering the heir" struck him like a slap to the face. Carter instinctively pulled out his phone to call her, to ask what kind of crazy stunt she was pulling now, if this was just another one of her new tricks to get his attention. But all he heard from the other end was the cold, robotic "The user's phone has been switched off." He stood in the empty hospital room, stunned for a full minute, before he belatedly realized she had blocked him on everything.

The guilt would hit Elena in the mornings when she sat across from Lorenzo at breakfast, watching him drink his coffee and talk about his plans to retire and take her to the Amalfi Coast. She felt disgusted. She felt like a monster. But then Dante would find her in the library, or the wine cellar, or the guest house, and the world would narrow down to the heat of his skin and the way he looked at her—like she was the only thing in the world that mattered. But luck in a Mafia house is a finite resource. One morning, nearly a year after Dante’s return, Elena woke up and felt the world tilt.

He lived in a Manhattan mansion with another woman for seven years, and he was interrogating me? I walked over calmly and took the papers back. "I was going to Europe to find a specialist for your mother's illness." "The divorce papers? Those are for Maria next door. She asked me to print them. Her husband hits her." Dario scrutinized me, searching for a lie. Seeing my face remain stone cold, the murderous rage slowly faded, replaced by that suffocating arrogance of a made man. "I knew it. A traditional woman like you? You waited eight years. You wouldn't dare leave me."

A smile formed on his lips. “Surprise... it didn’t hurt,” he grinned. Onora’s eyes widened. She tried to run, but he caught her, spun her around, and slammed her against the wall. His grip locked tightly around her wrists, pinning her there. She whimpered. “You punched me, and you must pay.” Pay? “Your husband didn’t tell you? Mafia don’t do free. You can’t punch me for free,” he smirked. Mafia. Her husband was a mafia. She had read many stories about them—dangerous men who manipulated others to get what they wanted.

She clenched her hands as a lone tear escaped her eye. “I will not allow myself to be a puppet of your game, Shan Moretti,” she uttered, her voice filled with utter hate and pain while her eyes were fixated on the man sleeping comfortably on the bed. Her very own husband. “May you suffer the same way the lives you've ruined.” Just like that, Feliza left, leaving behind her renowned cruel of a husband—oblivious of the danger she created herself. After all, Shan is a possessive man... And Feliza Gray-Moretti just happened to be his`.

Jasmine noticed that Kiara’s attention was drifting. She took the opportunity, grabbed Kiara’s leg, and made her fall. Jasmine hadn’t received any combat training, but she knew how to act smartly. As Kiara fell, Jasmine grabbed the pistol from her hand. “You… you can’t kill me!” Kiara warned her in fear. Jasmine rebuked her, “When you can think of ending my world, then I can take your life too. I am now the wife of Mafia King Eric Varghese.”

His father calmly wiped his hand and made deep eye contact with him. "Kennard, if you marry her, I will give you the Title of Mafia King and command of our Mafia Gang in your hands." Mr. Davis put the spoon back and faced his son, who was taken aback. Meanwhile, Kennard processed his words and felt foolish and betrayed. "DAD!! I did everything to give my best to the company and Gang but not for this shit." He pointed at her with burning eyes. Madeline's eyes shot wide at him as she couldn't take these insults anymore. She banged the table with the same intensity as him and returned the same intense glare to him for the first time.

I asked back. I saw him gulp visibly. It was not apparent and flashy, but I saw it clear as day. If anyone else were in my place, they would not have noticed it, but I did. My husband was the son of a mafia leader. He was used to not showing his weakness, his expressions. Not showing his feelings on his face was an art that was embedded in his soul since he had stepped inside the business with his father.