روايات وقصص ضمن My Broke Husband Was The Mafia Don

He leaned on the table between us and moved his hands across it before taking my hands in his, caressing them. "Baby, I know. But it shouldn't be hard to do that, right? I know what you are capable of, only that you've been a good follower of the law all your life. Now it's time to go on the other side of the law" He says like he was explaining why humans should eat and not about breaking the law. But then again, why am I surprised? My husband is a Mafia Don and me marrying him shouldn't be a lawful matter. "Okay then" I squeezed his hands in response.

but I was not going to leave until I hear what that was all about. “He might as well be a god, my father is the Don, head of a mafia family in Summer Strand and his word is law. My brother, your father is his son, and you can guess little one what kind of monster he is to be sitting at his right-hand side. Killing is a hobby for him, and I am going to make you pay for what he did to my husband!”

Monica asked Emma with a smile. "Of course not, we all know whose Mafia is the most powerful in Atlanta, thus nothing can harm her since she is the ruthless Mafia Don's wife's best friend, and you are simply mafia maids of Don's beneath my husband, OK," I smiled at Monica and her companions as they tried to hide their shame. "Talking about that, are you not meant to be at home after burying your father? We heard that your husband's bullet mark was detected on the bullet that killed your father."

The day I married Santino Connor, he announced he was leaving the Family, and as a result, all his accounts were frozen. Believing his promise to "go straight and start over," I spent five years chained to a sewing machine in a cold, damp basement, my fingers scarred from countless needle pricks. Our son, Luca, dressed in oversized T-shirts from a thrift store, was digging through dumpsters with me for scrap cardboard by the time he was three. But then I discovered that my supposedly broke husband, the man I thought was earning an honest living, had taken his place as the Don of the Connor family.

Other nights, like tonight, he turned to me and fuck me hard, like he was taking out all that rage on my body and punishing me, even though I hadn’t done shit to cause it. Don’t get me wrong. I loved my husband. Vakrez was good to me most days, very protective and gave me everything. But being married to a mafia guy? It was tough and scary sometimes. The mood swings, the secrets and the way he’d come home smelling like smoke and blood.

“You didn’t ask?” “Of course I fucking asked!” she snaps, finally losing her own composure. “Do you think I’ve been sitting there calmly accepting all of this? I found out last night, Jordyn. Last night. I haven’t exactly had time to process the fact that my husband’s family is Mafia.” “Your husband is Mafia.” She flinches. The moment the words leave my mouth, part of me regrets them, but the anger is moving too quickly now, fed by grief and betrayal and far too many secrets.

"Where the hell did this crazy bitch come from? Get lost!" The guard pulled his gun halfway out of the holster. He didn't point it at me, but the threat was clear. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. My husband. The man who came home covered in motor oil every day. The man who counted pennies with me over a twenty-dollar bill. He really was the ruthless Mafia Don everyone feared. I tried to fool myself that what I overheard was just a crazy joke. But now, the cold barrel of that gun completely shattered my last illusion.

Within minutes, she was already out but I stayed there a little longer than necessary. Something about everything she said… didn’t sit right. Carefully, I stood up and walked out of the room and closed the door behind me softly. The moment I stepped into the hallway, my chest tightened and I exhaled sharply. “No…” I muttered under my breath, “That can’t be true.” I stopped walking as I replayed her words again. He always attacked me… I couldn’t do anything… and my family owed him… I shook my head immediately. “No. No, that’s not right. That had to mean her husband was a mafia and Lucious was the only billionaire mafia in all of USA.”

"Elena, no! You don't know what you're saying!" "I know exactly what I'm saying," she whispered, her eyes locked on Lorenzo. The Don looked at his wife, then at the son who wasn't his, and finally at the revolver in his hand. The sirens were audible now—a distant, wailing chorus of justice that had no place in a house built on blood. Lorenzo stood up. He walked around the desk, the floorboards groaning under his weight. He stopped in front of Elena and reached out, his hand trembling slightly as he tucked a stray hair behind her ear.

Instead, it held indifference and an awe-inspiring quality that only someone who went through a life-and-death situation could have. Standing beside me was a tall, regal man. He was Lorenzo Costaroza, the current don of the oldest mafia family in the Central Ocean region. He had liked me for a long time, and he was a good man. He had helped me with my plane crash and subsequent disappearance. He also helped me get the videos to show Alice’s true colors. Otherwise, things would not have gone on so smoothly. At that moment, he held my waist gently and whispered something in my ear. I smiled brilliantly and confidently.