Di ja Pen

Take her." " Aunt!" A horrified gasp followed. " Do you mean it ?" A deep gruffly voice questioned. His voice was dripping with malice and beneath his eyes he gazed at the girl figure mostly on her bra straps and her ass slightly shot out. What if the deal you made turned into an unimaginable mistake beyond your control?. Several deals can be made in life , but one can either change or ruin your life . . Ixora was sold as a commodity to loan shark. No she was replaced with the debts of her greedy and wicked Aunt , Clarice . She was sold as a toy. Not knowing whose master to serve . Ixora found herself in the most dangerous clan in Spain as a sex toy. A toy that warms it's master bed and satisfy its master primal urges. A toy the master discard however and whenever he likes. A toy with no say or doing. Mafia's are everywhere , dangerous and wealthy. They own everything. Money , wealth , power belongs to them. They were dreaded so much that normal peasants like Adrianna never wanted to come across with them.. But Ixora ended up as a sex toy in a devil harem . The most dangerous harem in the whole of Spain. How did she end up this way? . Why is fate so cruel to her. At the age of twenty she is being sold out as a sex toy and worse , on her birthday!!!! ~ Hades Kings , the most dangerous Mafia Don in Spain. The King of Mafia's heirs. He is ruthless than the devil himself. His jawline line sharp and well chiseled , his features irresistibly seductive. It can break every wall of your resistance and his dark gray eyes that carried so much power within them . Hades who we call DIABLO [ DEVIL] , A SADISTIC AND CRUEL PSYCHOPATH Hades King is the leader of Kings empire , Kings Villa , Kings airline , King's brewery, King's publishing house , King's foodies a popularly know global restaurant and various more companies you can imagine. He got wealth at his feet and power in his grasp. Women's flooded themselves around him shamelessly . The men looked unto him with envy. But Hades has a dark past. One that hadn't been noticed by anyone yet and he is not ready to share it with anyone. IN HIS WORLD, WHERE, : El amo es traición (LOVE IS TREASON~) El cariño es quinididad (AFFECTION IS INQUITY~) La devoción es mortal (DEVOTION IS DEADLY ~) Hades got entangled with all these .

It all started with a Dare , a mean one a that . A Dare that would ruin her life and destroy her dreams . Every message pass through the messenger . And who was the messenger ?. Jayden Brooklyn , A name that would change her life forever . Dove William was a 3rd year psychology student , she kept to herself and avoided trouble as best as she can . She had her 1424 college plan ,and it was sailing great , until she met Jayden on her 1300 day on college . Unlike other girls , Dove hated distraction and and had few friends but when he came everything change. She tried pushing him off but he was like a leach and stucked to her annoyingly . " What was she going to do , he isn't part of her 1412 College plan.!" Jayden Stuck only to humiliate her! How it all started. *Club night.* On a dark evening ,the noise could be heard , crazy noise coming from drunk boys and girls ,some were underaged but there were rocking the party . Sex was also done openly without shame ! In a slightly calm room .The light was dim ,all that could be heard were loud kissing sounds and moans . Over the corner ,sat Jayden ,he had three girls pleasuring him but he soon lost interest . He push one away ,she tried to come closer but a glare stopped her ,the other two left without a word. " Boring " . A voice yelled. "Yea , let play a game " "What game should we play ? " Another asked " let play Truth or Dare " Another suggested , they all mummured with agreements . " Alright ,I will go first " .The girl picked the bottle with a dirty smirk on her face . "Spin !" "Spin!". The crowd yell and as she did . There was total silence as the bottle stopped rolling . Low gasps were heard . Jayden raised his head slowly, despite the dim light , his sexiness could not he hidden ,he had long hair that covered half of his face . His smoky gray eyes suited his aura , his lips was inviting , red cheery lips . Most girls got wet a just by staring at his face ,but don't be decieved by his looks , Jayden is a jerk , an arrogant and heartless play boy . A girl broken tears is like music in his ears. The girl smirked at Jayden, and bit her lip. The crowd stare anticipated . "So Jayden ,Truth or Dare ?."She asked staring at his lips . " Dare" .He muttered with aloofness , smoking wildly. The girl smirked in satisfaction ,as she stared at Jayden. " What the Dare going to be ? " " Ask me to fuck me just once". "Hey bitch !, Since we are friends let him ride me still sky." The girl stopped up , her skirt , or should I call it a pant exposed her underwear. Her Crop top had a deep cleavage ,she look beautiful but Jayden wasn't interested. Her boobs bounced freely as she walked closer , probably because she wasn't wearing a bra "What's is gonna be Charlotte ?" . Someone snapped . Her suspense was killing everyone. The girl named Charlotte smirked and pull out a photograph. ... "Here is the Dare ". She passed it to a guy ,who handed the picture over to everyone else , it was part of the truth and Dare ritual. As they were all standing to have a peep at the photograph. " Name Dove Moore ,a 300Law Student , she is 23of year ....and has never been in love ". Charlotte said the last sentence , staring at Jayden intently . Jayden eyes flew open as someone handed him the photograph . He glance at the photograph , Dove was wearing a frown but she still glowed she had a blond hair ,and her sapphire blue eyes shone . The picture wasn't a full one but anyone could see that she is beautiful . She had no make up on ,and her gaze was focused on a book . Jayden smirked . He loves having new girls , especially one that he can break . Charlotte with a frown said" Fuck with her and post it on the blog" Gasp filled the Air . . . . . ✓ ✓ ✓

I watched my husband sign the papers that would end our marriage while he was busy texting the woman he actually loved. He didn't even glance at the header. He just scribbled the sharp, jagged signature that had signed death warrants for half of New York, tossed the file onto the passenger seat, and tapped his screen again. "Done," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. That was Dante Moretti. The Underboss. A man who could smell a lie from a mile away but couldn't see that his wife had just handed him an annulment decree disguised beneath a stack of mundane logistics reports. For three years, I scrubbed his blood out of his shirts. I saved his family's alliance when his ex, Sofia, ran off with a civilian. In return, he treated me like furniture. He left me in the rain to save Sofia from a broken nail. He left me alone on my birthday to drink champagne on a yacht with her. He even handed me a glass of whiskey—her favorite drink—forgetting that I despised the taste. I was merely a placeholder. A ghost in my own home. So, I stopped waiting. I burned our wedding portrait in the fireplace, left my platinum ring in the ashes, and boarded a one-way flight to San Francisco. I thought I was finally free. I thought I had escaped the cage. But I underestimated Dante. When he finally opened that file weeks later and realized he had signed away his wife without looking, the Reaper didn't accept defeat. He burned down the world to find me, obsessed with reclaiming the woman he had already thrown away.

I was three days away from marrying the Underboss of the Fazio crime family when I unlocked his burner phone. The screen glowed toxic bright in the dark next to my sleeping fiancé. A message from a contact saved as 'Little Trouble' read: "She is just a statue, Dante. Come back to bed." Attached was a photo of a woman lying in the sheets of his private office, wearing his shirt. My heart didn't break; it simply stopped. For eight years, I believed Dante was the hero who pulled me from a burning opera house. I played the perfect, loyal Mafia Princess for him. But heroes don't give their mistresses rare pink diamonds while giving their fiancées cubic zirconia replicas. He didn't just cheat. He humiliated me. He defended his mistress over his own soldiers in public. He even abandoned me on the side of the road on my birthday because she faked a pregnancy emergency. He thought I was weak. He thought I would accept the fake ring and the disrespect because I was just a political pawn. He was wrong. I didn't cry. Tears are for women who have options. I had a strategy. I walked into the bathroom and dialed a number I hadn't dared to call in a decade. "Speak," a voice like gravel growled on the other end. Lorenzo Moretti. The Capo of the rival family. The man my father called the Devil. "The wedding is off," I whispered, staring at my reflection. "I want an alliance with you, Enzo. And I want the Fazio family burned to the ground."

Three days before the wedding. I was hiding in the dressing room, watching my fiancé caress the swollen belly of another woman. Luca, the man who had saved my life five years ago, was smiling at his mistress, Sofia. But the real knife to the heart wasn't the affair—it was the dress. The custom wedding gown he had "lovingly" ordered for me featured intricate silver embroidery along the hem. It didn't spell Elena. It read Sofia. He was planning to make me walk down the aisle wearing his mistress's name. Later that night, I found a video of him mocking me to his crew, calling me a "dead fish" and admitting he only wanted my family's Capo status. He planned to keep his "true love" on the side while I played the role of the oblivious, ornamental wife. He thought I was just a sheltered princess. He forgot that my bloodline was built on vengeance. I didn't cry. I didn't confront him. Instead, I scrubbed his scent off my skin and dialed a number everyone in Chicago feared. "The pact with the Cavallaro family," I asked my father, my voice cold as stone. "Is it still valid?" "Dante is the Underboss now," my father warned. "He is a butcher. He breaks men for sport." "Good," I replied. "I am done playing with boys." I secretly booked the Gold Ballroom across the hall from my original venue. Luca thought he was walking into a marriage on Saturday. He didn't know I was bringing a monster to the altar instead.

The day my husband, a Mafia Underboss, told me I was genetically unfit to carry his heir, he brought home my replacement—a surrogate with my eyes and a working womb. He called her a "vessel" but paraded her as his mistress, abandoning me while I bled on the floor at a party to protect her and planning their secret future in the villa he once promised me. But in our world, wives don't just walk away—they disappear, and I decided to orchestrate my own vanishing act, leaving him to the ruin he so carefully built for himself.

At my boyfriend's poorest moment, I suddenly broke up with him. Later, he became a Don in the Mafia and married me by any means necessary. Everyone said he loved me to the bone. But every night, he brought different women home, deliberately trying to provoke me. I asked no questions, shed no tears, and never disturbed his trysts with his mistresses. He went crazy with rage instead, kissing me fiercely and demanding, "Why aren't you jealous?" He didn't know I was sick. Dying. While he was furiously taking his revenge on me, I was slowly walking toward death.

Bring my wife to me." The words echoed through the hallway. Five years ago, Isabella Romano died. Or... so the world believes. She had been forced into a cold, loveless marriage with the ruthless mafia king, Lorenzo De Luca where Isabella was nothing more than a pawn in a dangerous game of power. But on the night she uncovered a secret that could destroy his empire, she became a target. So she did the only thing she could to survive. Disappearing. Now living under a new identity as Elena Rossi, Isabella has built a quiet life far away from blood, betrayal... and the man she once called husband. But when a high-profile art restoration job leads her straight into Lorenzo's world again, everything she once buried comes crashing back because Lorenzo never forgets and he never forgives. The moment he sees her, one truth becomes clear, his estranged bride was still alive and this time, he was never letting her go. Now dragged back into a world she barely escaped, Isabella must hide the one secret that could destroy everything; she didn't leave alone, she had left with his son. But as enemies close in and buried truths begin to surface, one question threatens to tear them apart: Did Isabella run to betray him... Or to save his life? Because in a world ruled by power and blood, love is dangerous and secrets are deadly.

I died on a Tuesday. It wasn't a quick death. It was slow, cold, and meticulously planned by the man who called himself my father. I was twenty years old. He needed my kidney to save my sister. The spare part for the golden child. I remember the blinding lights of the operating theater, the sterile smell of betrayal, and the phantom pain of a surgeon's scalpel carving into my flesh while my screams echoed unheard. I remember looking through the observation glass and seeing him-my father, Giovanni Vitiello, the Don of the Chicago Outfit-watching me die with the same detached expression he used when signing a death warrant. He chose her. He always chose her. And then, I woke up. Not in heaven. Not in hell. But in my own bed, a year before my scheduled execution. My body was whole, unscarred. The timeline had reset, a glitch in the cruel matrix of my existence, giving me a second chance I never asked for. This time, when my father handed me a one-way ticket to London-an exile disguised as a severance package-I didn't cry. I didn't beg. My heart, once a bleeding wound, was now a block of ice. He didn't know he was talking to a ghost. He didn't know I had already lived through his ultimate betrayal. He also didn't know that six months ago, during the city's brutal territory wars, I was the one who saved his most valuable asset. In a secret safe house, I stitched up the wounds of a blinded soldier, a man whose life hung by a thread. He never saw my face. He only knew my voice, the scent of vanilla, and the steady touch of my hands. He called me Sette. Seven. For the seven stitches I put in his shoulder. That man was Dante Moretti. The Ruthless Capo. The man my sister, Isabella, is now set to marry. She stole my story. She claimed my actions, my voice, my scent. And Dante, the man who could spot a lie from a mile away, believed the beautiful deception because he wanted it to be true. He wanted the golden girl to be his savior, not the invisible sister who was only ever good for her spare parts. So I took the ticket. In my past life, I fought them, and they silenced me on an operating table. This time, I will let them have their perfect, gilded lie. I will go to London. I will disappear. I will let Seraphina Vitiello die on that plane. But I will not be a victim. This time, I will not be the lamb led to slaughter. This time, from the shadows of my exile, I will be the one holding the match. And I will wait, with the patience of the dead, to watch their entire world burn. Because a ghost has nothing to lose, and a queen of ashes has an empire to gain.

For seven years, I was the architect of my fiancé's criminal empire and the strategist behind his every move. I was Dante Gallo’s unofficial Consigliere, his partner in everything but name. Tomorrow, I was finally supposed to marry him and take my place as the queen to his throne. But on the eve of our wedding, a single text message sent by mistake detonated my life. It was a photo from Dante, showing a platinum wedding band on his hand. The message read: “Married this morning. She’s safe now.” My gaze fell to the engagement ring on my own finger. It was the identical band, just smaller. The engraved initials ‘D.I.’ didn’t stand for Dante and I. They stood for Dante and Isabella—his childhood sweetheart. My entire relationship was a lie; I was just a shield to protect his one true love. He dismissed my discovery as a "tantrum." Then, his new bride began taunting me, sending a picture of them tangled in bedsheets with the caption: "Loser." They expected me to break. They thought I would shatter. They were about to find out just how wrong they were. I forwarded the picture to Isabella’s fiancé, a man far more dangerous than Dante. "Your fiancée is in Suite 8808 at the Grand Hyatt," I told him. "I'll meet you downstairs. We're going to crash their party."

I stood outside the mahogany doors, balancing a tray of espresso, when I heard my husband promise his sister that my reign as the Queen of Chicago was over. I thought being the Don's wife meant safety. I was wrong. In a warehouse reeking of rust, faced with an ultimatum from our enemies to choose who lives, Brennan made his choice. "Alyssa is strong," he justified, shielding his mistress, Debbi, who was faking a pregnancy. "She knows the life." He walked out into the sunlight with her, leaving me in the dark with a gun to my head. He abandoned me to be tortured and murdered by his rivals, weaponizing my resilience to absolve his guilt. He thought I died that day. He even mourned me after he eventually found out Debbi was a traitor. But he didn't know the new security guard was an undercover FBI agent who pulled me from the edge. Two years later, I've built a quiet life running a bistro in Maine under a new name. But then the bell above the door chimes during the lunch rush. I look up, and there he is. The husband who sacrificed me. He's looking at me not with guilt, but with a terrifying, obsessive hope. He says he burned down the world to fix his mistake. He says he won't let me go again. I smile, but my hand is already reaching for the wire the FBI gave me. I'm not a wife anymore, Brennan. I'm the executioner.

I spent five years building a multi-million-dollar legitimate fashion empire for my mafia boss boyfriend. But to the world, I was just a ghost forced to wear shapeless black rags while he bought his female enforcer diamond gowns. Everything shattered when that same enforcer framed me for fraud and threatened to leak hidden camera footage of me changing clothes to steal my company. I thought the man who once slaughtered a rival with his bare hands to protect me would tear her apart. Instead, he snatched my phone away and coldly told me to hand over my business to her. "Give her a percentage. Keep the peace." He said exposing his enforcer's treason to the Syndicate would make him look weak. He had watched her poison my drinks, steal my designs, and mock my life, yet he always defended her. Looking at his indifferent face, I finally understood the sickening truth. He wasn't oblivious to her abuse; he was complicit. My independence terrified him, so he used her cruelty to break my spirit and keep me entirely dependent on him. His so-called protection was just a twisted cage meant to dim my light. I looked at the ruthless Don who thought he owned me, and my heart turned to ice. I didn't cry or beg for his mercy. Instead, I bypassed his heavy firewalls, started a live broadcast to millions, and calmly dialed the Federal authorities.