Sino Si Maria Clara Sa El Filibusterismo

I died five years ago. Now my husband, the Don of our Mafia family, wants me to take the fall for his sister again—this time for accidentally killing a British noble's heir during an arms deal. He's holding a fake confession letter with my forged signature, storming into my old apartment in the rust district, only to find it empty. Frustrated, he grabs the corner store owner downstairs, demanding to know where I am. The owner pauses, wiping his hands on his apron, calmly tells him: "Serafine? She died five years ago." "Heard it was retaliation from a rival family during the gang war. They ambushed her in an alley... shot her over a dozen times. She died immediately." My husband, Lucien, refuses to believe it. Convinced the owner is on my payroll, hiding me to help me escape his reach. He scoffs, his eyes filled with scorn: "Oh, so what? Because I called her out for messing up that last job, now she's throwing a tantrum?" "You tell her, if she doesn't come back and take the fall in three days, I'll revoke her grandmother's 'special family protection'! Let the old woman rot!" With that, he storms out, his rage still simmering. The owner watches him leave and sighs, shaking his head. "There's no grandmother left to protect... That woman passed away not long after Serafine did... couldn't survive the winter without our family's medical supplies and protection..."

Before the day of my husband's succession as the Don, my stepsister personally tattooed the "Inverted Angel's Eye"—the mark of a traitor—onto my back. My husband didn't just turn a blind eye; when the family vendetta broke out, he withdrew all the elite guards to protect my "pregnant" stepsister, leaving me alone in a defenseless city to face the slaughter.  "Elena, you are strong enough to protect yourself. But Sophia is fragile, and she is carrying my firstborn. She needs the protection more than you." Facing a siege of heavy firepower, I survived by the skin of my teeth. He thought I would swallow the insult for the sake of the family's reputation. He didn't expect that I would kick open the doors of his coronation ceremony wearing mourning weeds, flanked by the FBI and the Commission, and personally strip him of his title. "Goodbye, Lorenzo. This time, I choose to be the Don."

I spent five years helping my boyfriend Marco rise to the position of Don. I nearly died countless times, but I didn't care; I loved him. He used to look at me tenderly and promised to propose to me publicly at his Don succession ceremony. But on that very day, he held the hand of another Mafia Principessa Sophia Romano and announced their engagement. To completely get rid of me, Sophia pulled a stack of photos from her bag and slammed them into my face. "See for yourself! She's been sleeping around to get intel!" In the picture, I was leaning into a man's arms. I tried to explain, but Marco interrupted me. "I always knew you were lowborn, but I didn't realize you were this cheap." "Get out!" Marco pointed at the door. "Elena, you are exiled from the family. Never let me see you again." I finally saw this man for who he truly was. He was completely subservient to me when he needed my help to seize territory, but after becoming the Godfather, he needed a more distinguished Donna, and therefore no longer needed me. I sneered; they had no idea that the man in the picture was my brother, the Don of the most powerful Corleone family. Sophia’s family was nothing compared to the Corleone family. I stopped arguing and simply turned and left. But when my true identity was finally exposed, he crawled back to me, weeping and begging for my forgiveness.

My husband is the Don of the entire New York East Coast Mafia. For ten years, I dimmed my own light to be his perfect silent partner, the dutiful wife who gave him the perfect heir. I thought we were the lovers who wou ld die for each other. Then came a mere associat. My husband and son had formed an alliance with the woman who seem want to take my place. But they just said, "Elena, you have the crown and the kingdom. She has nothing but us. Be generous." So, to make her smile, my husband trampled on my dignity again and again. To please her, my son affectionately calls her "Mom." In their eyes, I was the iron wall, the woman who would swallow any insult for the sake of the family honor. Until the fire. My husband locked me inside the burning room, to let me "reflect" on my jealousy. He didn't know that the fire didn't kill me. But it burned away the last ash of my love for him.

I've been married to my Mafia Boss husband for 15 years. When we first got married, he couldn't even afford a ring, but I didn't care; I loved him. I hid my identity. I secretly used my family's influence to help him build his empire from scratch, and I even bore him two children. His adopted sister always mocked me, calling me an old-fashioned housewife and saying I wasn't good enough for him. To avoid embarrassing him, I always endured it. Until our 15th anniversary, because both me and his adopted sister wore red dresses, he told me to stay in the kitchen: "Sofia's right. That red doesn't suit you. Don't come out until the banquet actually ends. Stay in the kitchen. I don't need the Dons from New York seeing you and getting the wrong impression." I was completely heartbroken and didn't argue anymore. I dialed a number I hadn't made in 15 years: "Principessa?" "It's me," I said, my voice steady. "Tell those old fossils on the Council... Isabella Corleone is coming home."

Untuk mengembalikan hak waris pria yang kucintai dari keluarga mafianya, aku memberikan salah satu korneaku padanya. Namun, saat dia mendapatkan kembali penglihatannya, alih-alih menikahkanku dengannya, keluargaku malah memilih kakak perempuanku untuk menjadi pasangan hidupnya. Di kehidupanku yang lalu, aku berusaha mencarinya dan menjelaskan segalanya, tetapi dia menolakku. Keluargaku sendiri mengasingkanku dan aku mati pada malam pernikahan antara dia dan kakakku. Kemudian, aku terlahir kembali, kembali ke masa sebelum aku diasingkan. Kali ini, aku memilih meninggalkan kelompok mafiaku dan meninggalkan pria yang dulu begitu kucintai. Namun pria itu? Bos mafia yang dingin dan tak berhati itu? Dia benar-benar hancur.

I stretched lazily on the bed, much like a contented kitten, before opening my eyes. Hovering above me was a face that could have been sculpted by the gods—a handsome, well-defined face with sun-kissed golden eyes. My first groggy thought was that Cara had finally brought home a decent, well-groomed man for a change. But…. Why is he in my room? I abruptly shoved him away, ending the spell. "Get off your asshole!" With a scowl on my face, I got up quickly. “Was personal space not mentioned by Clara, huh?” I spoke in an irritated tone. “Clara?” He turned and casually picked up some papers from a nearby table, settling down with an annoying smile. “And who might that be, if I may ask?” He doesn’t even remember her? Asshole “Well, if you must know, Clara—” I started, but my words faltered as something shiny caught my eye. What is..? Then my memories began to flood back. —it’s a damn golden sofa. Shit. Brain Freeze. ~~~ Growing up as the oldest kid on a Chicago farm was no picnic for Mary Johnson. Her folks, good ol' Mr. and Mrs. Becky Johnson, were salt-of-the-earth types, who worked hard on their small farm not far from the gritty backstreets of Chicago. They taught Mary and her siblings the value of hard work, self-value. But as much as Mary loved her family, she dreamed big, but those dreams took a backseat when she needed to step up and help support her family. Then, out of the blue, fate threw her a curveball. A chance in the US came knocking, and Mary didn't hesitate. And then she crossed paths with the Blacks – New York’s high society, dripping with wealth and power, who offered her a deal she couldn’t refuse.

The adage that marriage is the tomb of love seemed to ring true for Andrea, whose husband, Valentine Singers, scorned and divorced her due to her weight gain and perceived lack of beauty. "Sign the divorce papers," were the cold words Andrea received from Valentine when she joyfully shared the news of her pregnancy. Devastated and broken-hearted, she left Las Vegas and returned five years later with a young boy in tow. However, life had more surprises in store for her – a mix of love and heartbreak. In a bittersweet tale of love and betrayal, the CEO who had once spurned her now desires her back. But complications arise when his identical twin brother enters the picture, waiting on the sidelines.

Christy thought her boyfriend was just nonchalant and unromantic person, but a text and a photo sent by an anonymous changed everything. That was when she realised, she was never the one in his heart, but he had been leading her all along. This shattered her completely, and she couldn't get over being hurt and her trust brutally bruised. In anger, she made his grandfather who was in his mid-sixties fall in love with her. "You don't mean it, Christy right? My grandfather is too old and weak for you, I know you are mad at me for cheating and deceiving you, end this wedding, I will marry you" Franklin proposed, his face creased with frustration. His grandfather Winchester said "Kid, our wedding is already fixed" Then Christy raised her eyebrow and said "What makes you think marrying your grandfather because of you?" Franklin retorted "If I didn't cheat on you, would you have?" Christy beamed and then said in response "If you had not cheated on me, I would have been blind and still stick to you, but you opened my eyes and I realise the man for me, and he is your grandfather, I love him and I will marry him" "My girlfriend can't become my step-grandmother!" Franklin yelled aggressively.

Alicia thought she’d married perfection, until the mask slipped and the monsters stepped into the light. Betrayed by her husband and his lover, she died despite Catherine’s desperate warnings, and Catherine’s ultimate sacrifice to save her. But death isn’t the end. Alicia returns reborn: no longer the trusting woman who loved blindly, but a breathtaking force with a heart of ice and a ledger of debts to collect. Those who turned her life—and Catherine’s—into a nightmare will face the storm she’s become. Then a hand circles her waist, a voice low and certain: “You’re not Catherine. Who are you?” Andy’s eyes pin her, and the past and present collide. Who is she now? A woman forged by betrayal, sharpened by loss, and reborn to reclaim her power—even if love dares to stand in her way. A tale of rebirth, revenge, and a heart learning to beat again.