The Mafia Heiress's Comeback: She's More Than You Think Mga Nobela at Kwento

she whispered and he smiled, a smug and satisfied look. “You would really get them back for me?” Adrian asked her and she shrugged. “I love you, it is the least I can do. I will make sure they pay,” she muttered and he nodded, he didn’t doubt her for a second. She was almost as sinister as he, if he got the story right, rumors had circulated that she had climbed a friend to obtain the little stardom and position in society she had. Cassandra Monroe, soon to be Hales, was the queen of sabotage here and he didn’t doubt her if she said she would get them back.

And when it came to his business, nothing ever felt safe. She got ready quickly, pulling on the outfit one of the house staff had left for her—a black coat, fitted trousers, and boots that clicked softly against the marble as she made her way down the grand staircase. Adrien was already waiting by the door, phone in hand, his expression unreadable. He wore black, as always. The kind of black that absorbed light, as though it was meant to remind people of who he was the heir to one of the most feared Mafia families in Europe.

After talking to them for three years, they suddenly acted like they didn’t know me. “We should leave, Giselle. People are already gossiping and narrating their own stories about what’s happening. Noah would regret this.” Chloe grabbed my hand as I looked at the people passing near us who gave me nasty looks. They were all judging me. “She embezzled millions of dollars from the bank and changed her identity from Laura McClain to Giselle Sullivan. How shameless of her to return to California and pretend like we didn’t know the real her. Doesn’t it sound strange that she left with nothing and returned as this rich heiress no one has ever heard of?” They muttered. “Mr. Blackwood should expose h

The air smelled like jasmine and clean sheets, not gunpowder and perfume. I was 19. Same name. Caterina Moretti. Three years before the wedding. Three years before the betrayal. The mirror showed me a girl with no scars. Long black hair, Moretti green eyes, hands that had never pulled a trigger. My bedroom in the family villa was smaller than I remembered. On the desk, a college acceptance letter. On the nightstand, a newspaper. April 27, 2018. _“Moretti Heiress to Wed Vale Son in Merger of Century.”_

Jax didn't laugh. He stepped closer, leaned on the desk, and looked at me with pity. "Enough, Alessia." He sounded arrogant, like he was scolding a disobedient pet. "Go home and clean up your mess. If you keep this up, I promise you won't even get to be my wife." He thought losing my shares meant I'd be nothing but an accessory, begging at his feet. He severely underestimated me. I am the sole heiress of the Valeriano family, the biggest Mafia clan in Sicily.

He just stood there, staring at me across the crowded ballroom with an expression of complete devastation. The girl he'd thrown away, the wife he'd neglected and humiliated, the woman he'd told would never find anyone better, was Isabella Morrison. Granddaughter of Alexander Morrison. Heir to one of the largest fortunes in the country. One of the most powerful women in New York. And he'd let me go without a fight. The applause finally died down and I sat back down, accepting congratulations from the people at my table with grace and poise I'd learned from watching my brothers navigate society. But I was hyperaware of the Wei family table, of the chaos I knew was happening there.

Her phone was seized, she doesn't even come out of the room to eat instead they bring the food to her and then come back for the plate when she's finished. She felt she might not survive it any longer. She loosened her hair and her hair pin fell to the floor. She picked it up, bent and inserted it into the keyhole. She turned it anticlockwise twice then turned it clockwise and the door unlocked. She learnt this trick from her father when she was little. Her father too is a Mafia. I know you must be wondering how she got here. Well it happened that her father is owing Romero a lot of money which he can't pay back so the only way to settle the debt was to give out his only daughter, Bella.

He didn't look homeless, and one can tell from one glance that he is well-read. The truth is I was not finding any of his questions funny as I felt miserable and pained from all the embarrassment I had earlier encountered. I pulled down my shirt for him to see out of annoyance. “Here it is sir, it is a fucking birthmark and I hate it, I will gladly give you if you want it," I said in frustration. “I'm so sorry to bother you my lady, but I happen to come from London, and this mark of yours is a mark that is mostly associated with the royal family, I think if that mark is real, that you may be a princess,” he said, looking surprised at his own words.

With my own lips. "I keep ropes, handcuffs, zip ties, straps in my wardrobe, in the same way I keep my guns and knives. What if someone comes into my room to attack me? A mafia leader needs to be prepared, Bella. All the time." His soft words made my belly flutter. Relief washed over me. And his soft eyes turned mischievous really quick. And with a swift motion, he had his fingers around my hair, tugging on the loose strands of my bun gently. And within seconds, my hair was free, falling over my chest.

MAVERICK What the hell is she doing here? It was too late to hide as she saw me first. Aurelia smiled—a billion-dollar smile. She was an heiress to an e-commerce mogul. Not as rich as Lake, but yeah, her family was. “Hi. What can I get you?” She slid into the stool and tapped her well-manicured fingers on the counter. I bet her mani-pedi was worth my two weeks’ income in the bar. She asked as she looked around. “What do you have?”