Joy's daily vibes

💞NOVEL

📚Read here➡️🔗
https://eng.moboreader.com/1N19S1/178ENL

💞Title:Too Late For Regret, Mr. Mafia Boss✨️✨️

🔥📚Intro:
For five years, I gave everything I had, using my blood to build Gabriel's underworld empire. I expanded his territory, conquered half of the turfs, and allowed him to sit on that throne.
But just as I secured a billion-dollar casino contract, he ruthlessly tore the silver badge from my chest.
He handed my entire career over to his new love, Serena.
"Hand everything over to my fiancée, or you won't leave this room alive."
Serena was a helpless outsider who had never even touched a gun, yet she wanted everything that was mine.
Gabriel humiliated me in front of twelve family capos and announced that they would be married next month.
He even threatened that if I didn't hand over the family's encrypted master drive to her before dawn, he would blacklist me and send men to take my life.
Did he really think I would just obediently step aside and watch them take away everything I had built with my own hands?
So, I calmly handed Serena a master drive loaded with a logic bomb—one that would drain their accounts and expose them to the FBI.
Then, I walked out into the pouring rain, accepted an invitation from his most lethal rival, and prepared to watch his empire burn to ashes.

🔥📚 Chapter 1
Elena's POV
I pushed the casino monopoly contract—a priceless document—across the mahogany table.
In exchange, the man I had bled for over the past five years tore the silver badge from my chest.
"Hand this operation over to my fiancée, or you won't leave this room." Gabriel Moretti didn't even look at me.
His gaze was locked onto the double doors at the end of the room, as if waiting for a highly important guest.
For five years, I was his right hand. It was my advice that helped him expand half of his territory; it was my hands that signed those agreements; it was my blood that was spilled on the floors of enemy warehouses, all so he could sit at the head of this table.
He had promised me that once the casino contract was signed, I would become the underboss.
Yet now, in front of twelve family capos, he was stripping me of my power.
The gap in the heavy mahogany doors gradually widened, and a pale fluorescent light from the hallway pierced through the smoke.
Gabriel stood up, the cold, hard lines of his face relaxing into a sickeningly flattering smile.
He crossed the room to welcome Serena Bianchi.
She was wearing a pure white silk gown. In this room filled with the heavy scent of cigar smoke, she looked incredibly out of place.
She clung tightly to Gabriel's arm, scanning the men gathered in the room.
Gabriel cleared his throat, his voice breaking the silence.
"I have decided to appoint Serena as the co-commander of the S-Class territory."
A heavy silence fell over the twelve family capos.
I maintained my expressionless demeanor, sitting exactly as I had been, but a chill crept into my heart, extinguishing the very last shred of my loyalty to him.
"Bringing an outsider into the inner circle violates family rules," I said in a low voice.
Serena flinched, burying her face into Gabriel's suit and letting out a small, dramatic gasp.
Gabriel slammed his hand onto the polished wooden table, his eyes locking onto me, the muscles at the corner of his eyes twitching from the force.
"I am the head of this family, Elena!" he snapped.
"My word is law, and you will not question me on my turf."
Serena peeked out from behind him, offering the men in the room a fragile, teary-eyed smile.
"Gabriel said that only my name needs to be on the territory's title deeds, so we can secure our power."
Beneath the table, my hands clenched into fists.
She wanted everything—the credit, the turf, the wealth, even the safe houses—yet she had never even touched a gun.
Gabriel reached into the ashtray, picked up my badge with two fingers, and tossed it into the trash can at his feet, like it was a piece of garbage.
"This family is mine," he declared, wrapping a fiercely possessive arm around Serena's waist.
"Next month, Serena and I are getting married."
He looked down at me, the lines of his face hardening once more.
"Before tomorrow, you must hand over the encrypted master drive to her."
"If you dare to disobey my orders, Elena, I will make sure you never find work in this city again. You won't even have the chance to breathe."
My gaze shifted to the trash can, where the silver badge gleamed dully.
I thought of the scar on my left shoulder, the mark left by a bullet I took for him. Now, it seemed that scar had only bought me a spot in the trash.
Just as Gabriel and Serena turned to leave, I reached into the trash can, retrieved the badge, and quietly slipped it into my pocket.
But my thoughts had already drifted elsewhere.
Downstairs, a motorcade waited silently in the rain. It belonged to Dante Falcone—the head of the Falcone family.
Dante was the kind of man who could wipe out two rival families overnight just to flex his power.
More importantly, he was Gabriel's deadliest nemesis.
I knew Dante was waiting. He would be surveilling this building, waiting for a signal that the asset he desired was finally within reach.
Serena leaned over the table, a small smile curling on her lips. "Thank you for stepping aside, Elena."
I stood up, the legs of my chair letting out a soft squeak against the floor.
I took a deep breath, the cold air rushing into my throat and triggering a dry cough. I covered my mouth with my hand.
"You will have the master drive tomorrow."
I said calmly, my voice betraying no hint of what I was plotting inside.

🔥📚 Chapter 2
Elena's POV
I pushed the casino monopoly contract—a priceless document—across the mahogany table.
In exchange, the man I had bled for over the past five years tore the silver badge from my chest.
"Hand this operation over to my fiancée, or you won't leave this room." Gabriel Moretti didn't even look at me.
His gaze was locked onto the double doors at the end of the room, as if waiting for a highly important guest.
For five years, I was his right hand. It was my advice that helped him expand half of his territory; it was my hands that signed those agreements; it was my blood that was spilled on the floors of enemy warehouses, all so he could sit at the head of this table.
He had promised me that once the casino contract was signed, I would become the underboss.
Yet now, in front of twelve family capos, he was stripping me of my power.
The gap in the heavy mahogany doors gradually widened, and a pale fluorescent light from the hallway pierced through the smoke.
Gabriel stood up, the cold, hard lines of his face relaxing into a sickeningly flattering smile.
He crossed the room to welcome Serena Bianchi.
She was wearing a pure white silk gown. In this room filled with the heavy scent of cigar smoke, she looked incredibly out of place.
She clung tightly to Gabriel's arm, scanning the men gathered in the room.
Gabriel cleared his throat, his voice breaking the silence.
"I have decided to appoint Serena as the co-commander of the S-Class territory."
A heavy silence fell over the twelve family capos.
I maintained my expressionless demeanor, sitting exactly as I had been, but a chill crept into my heart, extinguishing the very last shred of my loyalty to him.
"Bringing an outsider into the inner circle violates family rules," I said in a low voice.
Serena flinched, burying her face into Gabriel's suit and letting out a small, dramatic gasp.
Gabriel slammed his hand onto the polished wooden table, his eyes locking onto me, the muscles at the corner of his eyes twitching from the force.
"I am the head of this family, Elena!" he snapped.
"My word is law, and you will not question me on my turf."
Serena peeked out from behind him, offering the men in the room a fragile, teary-eyed smile.
"Gabriel said that only my name needs to be on the territory's title deeds, so we can secure our power."
Beneath the table, my hands clenched into fists.
She wanted everything—the credit, the turf, the wealth, even the safe houses—yet she had never even touched a gun.
Gabriel reached into the ashtray, picked up my badge with two fingers, and tossed it into the trash can at his feet, like it was a piece of garbage.
"This family is mine," he declared, wrapping a fiercely possessive arm around Serena's waist.
"Next month, Serena and I are getting married."
He looked down at me, the lines of his face hardening once more.
"Before tomorrow, you must hand over the encrypted master drive to her."
"If you dare to disobey my orders, Elena, I will make sure you never find work in this city again. You won't even have the chance to breathe."
My gaze shifted to the trash can, where the silver badge gleamed dully.
I thought of the scar on my left shoulder, the mark left by a bullet I took for him. Now, it seemed that scar had only bought me a spot in the trash.
Just as Gabriel and Serena turned to leave, I reached into the trash can, retrieved the badge, and quietly slipped it into my pocket.
But my thoughts had already drifted elsewhere.
Downstairs, a motorcade waited silently in the rain. It belonged to Dante Falcone—the head of the Falcone family.
Dante was the kind of man who could wipe out two rival families overnight just to flex his power.
More importantly, he was Gabriel's deadliest nemesis.
I knew Dante was waiting. He would be surveilling this building, waiting for a signal that the asset he desired was finally within reach.
Serena leaned over the table, a small smile curling on her lips. "Thank you for stepping aside, Elena."
I stood up, the legs of my chair letting out a soft squeak against the floor.
I took a deep breath, the cold air rushing into my throat and triggering a dry cough. I covered my mouth with my hand.
"You will have the master drive tomorrow."
I said calmly, my voice betraying no hint of what I was plotting inside.

🔥📚 Chapter 3
Elena's POV
At ten o'clock the next morning, the hinges of my office door let out a dry, metallic screech as it was pushed open.
Serena strutted in, her heels clicking sharply against the polished floor.
She was accompanied by Gabriel's chief enforcer, a man with a face full of scars.
On the lapel of her designer jacket, she wore a gold-trimmed "Capo badge."
She crossed her arms and swept her gaze across my command center, a smug expression on her face.
"Gabriel sent me to get the S-Class master drive."
I feigned indifference and pulled open my desk drawer.
I took out the silver hard drive and casually tossed it onto the glass desk. It slid across the surface, coming to a stop near her hand.
Serena snatched it up, clutching it to her chest like a trophy.
"Gabriel is going to announce my promotion to underboss tomorrow."
She leaned over the desk, a venomous smile curling on her lips.
"Once the casino alliance is signed, he'll also announce our marriage."
I leaned back in my chair, pressing my fingertips together lightly.
"Assuming you live to see that day."
Serena's smile faltered for a second, but she quickly recovered, tossing her hair over her shoulder.
"Gabriel has already given me this headquarters."
She pointed toward the door. "Pack your things and get out of my office."
I stood up without saying a word.
My finger grazed the edge of the keyboard, my pinky pressing a hidden macro key—a silent trigger.
I pulled a foldable cardboard box from under my desk and began packing my personal weapons.
I placed my custom G***k, my tactical knife, and several burner phones into the box.
Serena rolled her eyes, turned around, and tapped her foot impatiently.
"Hurry up," she snapped, leaving her enforcer to watch me pack.
The terminal screen behind me flickered. Days ago, I had already encrypted and packaged the real master roster—the very lifeblood of the family organization.
I had transferred the authentic files onto a micro-drive smaller than a fingernail, hiding it in a secret pocket inside my boot.
The macro I had just triggered launched a delayed replacement protocol, gradually overwriting the gang's servers with dummy data. To an amateur, everything looked normal, but in reality, it was a ticking time bomb.
It wasn't until I picked up the box that Serena finally walked out of the office, taking the enforcer with her to inspect the rest of the floor.
Ten minutes later, I walked out of the command center, the heavy box in my arms.
Gabriel was walking down the hallway with Serena, his hand resting gently on her waist.
When he saw me, a look of disgust instantly crossed his face. As he stopped in front of me, he used his shoulder to block my path.
"Go to the holding cell in the basement, Elena."
He crossed his arms, trying to dominate me with his posture.
"You stay there and behave until I decide what to do with you."
I didn't stop walking. I slammed my shoulder hard into his chest, making him stumble.
Gabriel roared, "Elena, get back here!"
I didn't care in the slightest.
I just wanted to see how he would beg me when the time came!

🔥📚more chapter ➡️🔗
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NOVEL

📚Title: The Unwanted Orphan: Now A Zillionaire Heiress

📚Full Story here
🔗👉🏼 https://eng.moboreader.com/1K3utB/178BVZ

📚Intro📚

🍁Endowed with a billion-dollar fortune, Ira Lopez, the state's top-secret foster daughter groomed from childhood, was finally assigned a set of legal guardians!

Unexpectedly, she was sent away by three families in a row, and every social kinship training ended in total failure.

It was not until the Vaughn family adopted her that the poor little Ira was showered with endless money day and night by her adoptive parents, who put on elaborate displays of doting parental affection for her.

Envious people lost their minds and spread vicious rumors: "Ira Lopez has no real skills at all-she's just faking misfortune to swindle the Vaughns!"
Yet the very next day, a president of an Ivy League university greeted her personally: "Professor Ira, your laboratory is fully furnished and ready for use."
The richest tycoon knelt down and held out a contract: "Boss, our annual financial report shows a 300% surge in profits!"
The international hacker alliance erupted in panic online: "Our supreme leader! If you don't log back on soon, the global financial systems will collapse!"
As Ira's countless hidden identities were exposed one after another and the entire internet went wild, Barrett Ferguson, the notoriously cold, ruthless elite newcomer of the capital city, suddenly pinned her against a wall.
He brushed the pad of his thumb gently over her lips and drawled, "Mrs. Ferguson, had your fun? It's time to come home and bear our children."
Ira's ear tips blushed bright red as she stammered, "I-I don't want to have kids!"
The man let out a low chuckle, pulled out the world's one-of-a-kind supreme black card, and pressed it into her palm: "Give me one child, and I'll gift you a private island."

📚Chapter 1 …..

" You are a redundant existence, Ira."
Josie Palmer adjusted the strap of her designer bikini, her voice sharp enough to cut through the humid afternoon air. "You live in our house, eat our food, but you'll never belong."
Ira Lopez didn't respond. She just wanted to get back inside, away from the blistering California sun and the even more scorching glare of her foster sister. She shifted her weight, trying to step around Josie.
A hand clamped down on her arm, nails digging into her skin. "Don't you dare walk away from me."
Josie's voice rose, theatrical and loud. "Where is it? My diamond bracelet. I know you took it."
Ira's gaze dropped from Josie's furious face to the delicate chain sparkling on Josie's own wrist.
"It's right there," Ira said, her voice flat, devoid of emotion.
Josie's eyes followed her gaze. A flicker of embarrassment crossed her face, quickly replaced by a deeper, more venomous anger. Her grip tightened on Ira's arm.
Just then, the sliding glass door to the patio opened. Richard and Patricia Palmer stepped out, carrying glasses of iced tea.
A calculated glint appeared in Josie's eyes.
She let go of Ira's arm.
Then, with a piercing shriek, she threw herself backward.
"She pushed me!"
The splash was enormous. Josie hit the pool with a theatrical flail of limbs, vanishing beneath the chlorinated blue water.
Ira stood frozen, her hand still outstretched from where Josie had wrenched her arm away. It was the perfect picture of guilt.
"What did you do to her?" Patricia's scream was shrill, a sound Ira had grown accustomed to over the years.
Richard didn't hesitate. He dove into the pool, clothes and all, and pulled his sputtering, coughing daughter from the water.
Josie clung to her father, her body trembling, water streaming from her hair. She pointed a shaking finger at Ira.
"She pushed me... she called me a spoiled bitch..."
"I didn't touch her," Ira said. The words felt useless even as they left her lips.
A sharp crack echoed across the patio.
The sting bloomed on Ira's cheek, hot and immediate. Patricia stood before her, hand raised, her face contorted with rage.
"We took you in, gave you everything," Patricia hissed, her voice trembling with fury. "And this is how you repay us? You venomous little snake."
Ira's cheek throbbed, a fiery red against her pale skin. But her eyes remained cold, her expression unchanged. She didn't cry. She never gave them the satisfaction.
Richard, cradling his precious daughter, looked at Ira with profound disappointment. It was a look that had once hurt, but now felt like nothing at all.
"Go to your room," he said, his voice heavy with finality. "Pack your things."
Ira looked at the perfect family tableau-the protective father, the furious mother, the victimized daughter. A knot of something cold and hard settled in her stomach. She turned without a word, her back straight, and walked into the house.
Her room was small, an afterthought at the end of the hall. She didn't bother with the closet full of clothes Patricia had bought, clothes that were always a size too small or a style she would never choose.
Instead, she knelt and pulled a worn suitcase from under the bed.
She packed three changes of simple, dark clothing, a worn paperback, and a thick, leather-bound notebook filled with dense, handwritten medical notes. Nothing else in the room felt like hers anyway.
The door burst open. Patricia stormed in and threw an envelope onto the floor.
"Here," she spat. "Get out of my house. Now."
Ira didn't look at the envelope. She knew it contained a few hundred dollars-conscience money. An insult.
She zipped the suitcase. The sound was loud in the tense silence.
She walked out of the room, pulling the small case behind her. As she passed the living room, Josie was wrapped in a fluffy white towel, sipping hot chocolate. She met Ira's eyes over the rim of the mug and smiled. A small, triumphant smirk.
Ira's phone vibrated in her pocket. She pulled it out.
A text message.
From Director Miller at the orphanage.
[Ira, there's an urgent situation. A new family is picking you up. Today. ]
A new family. The words didn't spark hope, or fear, or anything at all. They were just data.
She deleted the message, her face a blank mask.
She pulled open the heavy front door of the Palmer house and stepped out into the blinding sunlight. She didn't look back.
Standing on the curb, the heat of the pavement seeping through the soles of her worn sneakers, she waited. She didn't know who was coming, or where she was going.
All she knew was that she was done.
The past was a closed door, and she had just turned the lock.

📚Chapter 2 …..

Twenty minutes passed. The sun beat down on the quiet suburban street, the silence broken only by the distant hum of a lawnmower.
A plain, silver Toyota Camry pulled up to the curb and stopped. It looked like an Uber.
The window rolled down, revealing a man in his late forties. He had a calm, scholarly air, with kind eyes behind a pair of simple glasses. He consulted his phone.
"Miss Lopez?"
Ira nodded.
The man got out of the car. He was dressed in a simple polo shirt and slacks, but he moved with an understated grace. He took her suitcase without being asked and placed it gently in the trunk.
Just then, the front door of the Palmer house opened again. Patricia and Josie stepped out onto the porch, a transparent attempt to ensure Ira was truly gone.
They saw the Camry. Their expressions shifted from suspicion to open contempt.
"Well, Mom," Josie said, her voice loud enough to carry across the manicured lawn. "Looks like that's the best the orphanage could do for her."
Patricia made a small, dismissive sound. "She's lucky to get a ride at all. Beggars can't be choosers."
The words floated on the hot air, sharp and clear.
The man-Sterling Vaughan-gave no outward sign that he had heard. His expression didn't change, but Ira saw his eyes, magnified by his glasses, turn cold. A flicker of something hard and unyielding.
Ira's gaze fell to his wrist. He wore a watch. It was simple, understated, with a dark leather band. But the face was a complex tapestry of gears and dials, a piece of mechanical art. She recognized it instantly. A Patek Philippe, a custom piece worth more than the Palmers' house.
A sliver of doubt pierced her carefully constructed indifference. This man was not who he appeared to be.
Sterling opened the rear door for her, a gesture of respect she hadn't experienced in years.
"Thank you," she murmured, sliding into the cool, clean interior. The car smelled faintly of sandalwood and old leather.
He closed the door, walked back to the driver's side, and started the engine. The car pulled away from the curb smoothly.
But just as they reached the corner, he stopped.
Ira looked at him, confused. In the rearview mirror, she could see Patricia and Josie still standing on the lawn, pointing, their faces alight with mockery.
Sterling picked up his phone. He dialed a number and spoke a single word, his voice calm but imbued with absolute authority.
"One minute."
He hung up and met Ira's eyes in the mirror. "Some things," he said softly, "need to be made clear from the beginning."
Seeing the car stop, Josie and Patricia smirked, assuming he was coming back to argue.
Less than thirty seconds later, a low rumble echoed from the end of the street.
It grew louder, a deep, guttural sound that vibrated through the car.
One black Cadillac Escalade appeared. Then another. And another.
A fleet of five identical, menacing SUVs, windows tinted to an impenetrable black, rolled silently down the street. They blocked both ends of the road, sealing it off.
The doors opened in unison. A dozen men in sharp black suits and earpieces emerged, moving with the disciplined precision of a military unit.
The smug smiles on Josie and Patricia's faces dissolved, replaced by slack-jawed disbelief.
The lead security man strode to the Camry and respectfully opened the driver's door for Sterling.
Sterling got out. He shrugged off his polo shirt, revealing a crisp, perfectly tailored dress shirt underneath. He handed the shirt to the guard.
He was no longer a mild-mannered driver. He was a king surveying his domain.
He walked slowly, deliberately, toward the two women frozen on their lawn. The air grew still, heavy with unspoken power.
He stopped a few feet from them. His voice was not loud, but it carried in the sudden, profound silence.
"Remember this," he said, his eyes locking onto Patricia's. "From this day forward, Ira Lopez is my daughter."
His gaze shifted to Josie, and it was like being pinned by shards of ice. "And I will remember every single word you have ever said to her."
Patricia's face was ashen. Her lips moved, but no sound came out. Josie was trembling, her earlier bravado shattered into a million pieces of pure terror.
Sterling didn't give them another glance. He turned and walked back to Ira. He opened her door himself.
"Let's go home."
Ira stepped out of the Camry. A guard immediately took her old suitcase, placing it in the back of the lead Escalade.
Sterling gently guided her to the lead vehicle, holding the door for her as she climbed inside.
The convoy started moving. As they passed the Palmer house, Ira looked out the window. Josie and Patricia were still standing there, two small, petrified figures in a world that had suddenly, irrevocably, become too big for them.

📚Chapter 3 …..

The Escalade moved with a silent, heavy grace. The city noise was completely sealed out, leaving a cocoon of quiet luxury.
Ira watched the familiar, sterile landscape of the suburbs blur past the tinted window. The Palmer house, the neat lawns, the identical mailboxes-it all receded until it was gone. A chapter of her life, erased from view.
For the first time in what felt like a lifetime, a genuine emotion stirred in the cold stillness of her chest. It wasn't relief. It wasn't joy. It was something quieter, more fragile.
She turned her head from the window and looked at the man sitting beside her.
"Thank you," she said, her voice barely a whisper.
Sterling was polishing his glasses with a soft cloth. He paused, the motion arrested in mid-air. He placed the glasses back on, his gaze now clear and focused on her. A warm, gentle smile touched his lips.
"You don't thank family, Ira."
The word "family" felt foreign on her tongue, a language she didn't speak. Her expression must have betrayed her, a flicker of confusion and distrust in her eyes.
He saw it. His smile softened, becoming something more understanding, more patient.
"Ira," he began, his voice serious but kind. "I know what you've been through. I've read your file. But in the Vaughan house, you will never have to earn your place. You will never have to watch what you say."
He leaned forward slightly, his gaze unwavering. "I give you my word. From this day on, no one will ever hurt you again. And no one will ever, ever throw you away."
His voice was a low, steady anchor in the swirling uncertainty of her world. It held no pity, no condescension. It was a statement of fact. A promise forged in steel.
A familiar, involuntary reaction took over. Ira gave a slight, almost imperceptible shrug of her shoulders. It was a gesture of a lifetime, a physical manifestation of an emotion she couldn't name, a wall she didn't know how to lower.
"I don't need promises," she said, her voice low. "But I accept your kindness."
Sterling's smile returned, this time tinged with admiration for the unyielding strength in this young woman. He saw the steel spine beneath the fragile exterior.
"It wasn't just for them," he added, settling back against the plush leather seat. "It was for you. And for everyone else. Making it clear who you are now saves a great deal of unnecessary trouble down the line."
She understood. It wasn't just a show of force. It was a shield. A declaration to the world that she was no longer alone, no longer unprotected.
The silence returned, but it was different now. The tension had bled out of it, replaced by a calm sense of security.
She watched him from the corner of her eye. The immense power that had radiated from him on the street had now softened into something that felt, impossibly, like fatherhood.
Her phone vibrated. A new message from Director Miller.
[Is it him? Mr. Vaughan is a good man, Ira. I think you'll be happy. ]
Ira typed a single reply.
[Yes. ]
She put the phone away. The name Vaughan echoed in her mind. In California, that name wasn't just wealth. It was a dynasty. It was power woven into the very fabric of the state.
She looked out the window again, but she wasn't seeing the passing freeway. She was seeing the start of a new path, stretching out into an unknown future.
Her life, she realized with a certainty that settled deep in her bones, had just been irrevocably altered.

📚🔥Full Story here
👉🏼🔗 https://eng.moboreader.com/book/178BVZ

💕 NOVEL

💥📘 Title: Bleeding For A Lie: His Cruel Betrayal

💥📘Full Story here ➡️
https://eng.moboreader.com/1Ipidx/178AGY

💖 INTRO

For two years, I worked double shifts at a dingy laundromat, scrubbing blood out of suits until my hands were permanently raw. I starved myself to pay off a massive mafia debt my boyfriend, Dante, supposedly owed.
But one day, the city's untouchable Mafia Princess walked in and revealed the cruel truth. Dante was the billionaire Don himself, and my suffering was just a sick undercover game he played to test my loyalty.
Instead of ending the charade, Dante looked at me like I was invisible trash. He allowed his fiancée to frame me for theft, fired me, and forced me to kneel on the freezing concrete outside his headquarters.
When his fiancée stole my severance and sent rogue soldiers to destroy me, I frantically called him for help while coughing up blood.
"You are a degenerate gambler. Do not ever contact me again."
He hung up the phone, leaving me to be brutally assaulted by the monsters until my bones snapped.
Lying on my ruined floor, I couldn't understand how the man who used to whisper my name in the dark could be so merciless. I had bled my soul dry for him, only to be discarded like a liability.
With my spirit entirely shattered, I typed out one final message.
"If I die, will you regret it?"
I stepped out of the eighteenth-floor window and let the wind swallow me whole. I never expected that days later, the untouchable Don would find my hidden love letters, go completely mad with grief, and step off that exact same ledge.

💥📘 Chapter 1

For two years, I worked double shifts at a dingy laundromat, scrubbing blood out of suits until my hands were permanently raw. I starved myself to pay off a massive mafia debt my boyfriend, Dante, supposedly owed.
But one day, the city's untouchable Mafia Princess walked in and revealed the cruel truth. Dante was the billionaire Don himself, and my suffering was just a sick undercover game he played to test my loyalty.
Instead of ending the charade, Dante looked at me like I was invisible trash. He allowed his fiancée to frame me for theft, fired me, and forced me to kneel on the freezing concrete outside his headquarters.
When his fiancée stole my severance and sent rogue soldiers to destroy me, I frantically called him for help while coughing up blood.
"You are a degenerate gambler. Do not ever contact me again."
He hung up the phone, leaving me to be brutally assaulted by the monsters until my bones snapped.
Lying on my ruined floor, I couldn't understand how the man who used to whisper my name in the dark could be so merciless. I had bled my soul dry for him, only to be discarded like a liability.
With my spirit entirely shattered, I typed out one final message.
"If I die, will you regret it?"
I stepped out of the eighteenth-floor window and let the wind swallow me whole. I never expected that days later, the untouchable Don would find my hidden love letters, go completely mad with grief, and step off that exact same ledge.

Chapter 1

Mia POV

The terms were plain: if I did not deliver my wages for the month to the underground collectors by midnight, the mob would murder the man I loved.

But as I stood there, counting a fistful of crumpled bills with fingers raw from bleach, the city's untouchable Mafia Princess drifted into my dingy laundromat.

A cruel amusement played on her lips as she let fall the fact that her billionaire fiancé—the Don himself—was engaged in a sick undercover game with some "stupid girl."

Serena stood at the center of the room, the needle-point of her heels striking the cracked linoleum with the sound of chipping ice. She carried the scent of a perfume I could not name, and of money so old it had no smell at all.

I smelled of industrial lye, chlorine, and the stale perspiration of fear.

For two years, I had held down double shifts in this mob-run establishment. A permanent ache had settled deep in my joints, and the skin of my hands was perpetually chapped from scrubbing blood and grease out of fine-wool suits. I did it all to service a fictitious $200,000 blood debt my boyfriend, Dante, supposedly owed to a ruthless Capo. I had starved myself thin, collapsed from malnutrition on two separate occasions, and never once voiced a complaint, so that he might not carry the burden alone.

Serena regarded me with a profound disgust, her acrylic nail with its French-white border scraping a faint 'hiss' against the cheap, coarse weave of a laundered shirt on the rack.

"My fiancé allots me $5 million a month for acquisitions," she said, a cruel smile shaping her red lips. "It is a source of great amusement to him, this charade of the poor, indebted man. He finds it entertaining to watch a pathetic thing bleed for him."

A frigid stillness washed over my body, as if I'd been plunged into ice water. A knot formed in my throat, but I shook my head, refusing to let the venom of her words find purchase.

"You don't know what you're talking about," I said, my voice a tremor that I fought to keep fierce. "My boyfriend works three jobs to survive. He is loyal, and he loves only me. You're just inventing cruelties to mock people who have to work for a living."

Serena just laughed again, a high, mocking sound that made the empty room seem vast and cold.

Before she could answer, the heavy metal door swung open with a groan of stressed hinges. Through the grime on the glass, I saw a bulletproof luxury SUV idling at the curb. Two large men in dark suits entered first, their gaze sweeping the room with a practiced, dead-eyed efficiency.

Then, he walked in.

The man who entered was the living embodiment of power and violence. He wore a bespoke suit that cost more than my life, and his dark eyes held the cold, detached authority of a man who ruled the city's underworld. When he drew near, the laundromat owner, a man who routinely shouted at me for using too much soap, began desperately trying to hide his trembling hands in the pockets of his apron.

"This place is a filthy front, Serena," he said, his voice deep and commanding. "Why are you wasting your time in this hovel?"

The air in my lungs seized.

A pressure, like a physical hand, closed around my heart. I knew that voice. I knew the exact cadence, the rough edge of it, and the way it sounded when he whispered my name in the dark.

It was Dante. My Dante. The desperate, broken man I had been killing myself to save.

I stood motionless behind the warped laminate counter. I did not dare turn around. To turn around was to permit the illusion to be torn apart, and for my world to end.

"I was just collecting my dry cleaning," Serena purred, walking over to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck. "Besides, I find my card has been exhausted."

Dante let out a low chuckle—a sound that made my stomach lurch into a cold, empty space. He pulled out his phone and tapped the screen a few times.

"I have just transferred $2 million in blood money to your account," he said casually. "Go buy whatever you want, my Queen."

He kissed her.

I could hear the wet, obscene sound of their lips meeting. I was made to listen as he tenderly compensated his Mafia Queen, right in front of the girl who was destroying her own body to pay his fake debts.

A wave of nausea rose in my throat. My fingers, as if suddenly drained of blood, lost all sensation. The plastic handle of a heavy container of industrial detergent slid from my numb grasp. It crashed to the floor, the viscous blue liquid spilling everywhere.

The sudden, loud crack of the plastic against the tile was so jarring that I spun around on instinct, my hands flying up to my chest.

Dante looked over Serena's shoulder, his dark eyes landing on me. There was no recognition in his gaze, only the flat, unreflective look one gives to an inanimate object.

"You are clumsy," he stated, his voice devoid of any warmth. "Get this mess cleaned up."

Serena leaned against his chest, a malicious glint in her eyes. "Oh, don't be too hard on her, Dante. This pathetic girl is working herself to death to feed her poor boyfriend. She is very devoted."

Dante fell into a dark, heavy silence. His jaw tightened, and a dangerous shadow crossed his face. He looked at me—truly looked at me—and I saw the paranoid mafia boss fully eclipse the man I thought I knew.

"Serena, go wait in the car," he ordered softly.

She pouted but obeyed, her heels clicking away until the heavy door shut behind her.

Dante stepped closer to the counter. The sheer force of his presence made the air in the room feel thin and hard to draw.

"Why are you working at this specific front?" he asked, his tone sharp and accusatory. "Who told you to come here?"

I could not speak. Tears burned my eyes, but the paralysis of shock kept them from falling.

"I just wanted to help you," I whispered, my voice cracking as if under a great weight.

His expression hardened into a mask of pure ice.

"Listen to me very carefully," he said, leaning in close enough that the scent of his expensive cologne, a scent I once loved, now felt like a violation. "You will maintain absolute silence about my identity. If you breathe a word of this to anyone, you will understand exactly why I rule this city."

The laundromat boss—a low-level Familia associate—rushed out from the back room, sweating profusely at the sight of the Don in his squalid little shop.

"Fire her," Dante commanded, his gaze fixed on me. "Withhold her final wages to pay the Familia taxes."

The boss nodded frantically, his terror of the Don a palpable thing that smothered any pity he might have had.

"You're fired, Mia," the boss snapped. "Get out."

Dante turned his back on me and walked out the door without a backward glance.

I watched helplessly through the dirty glass window as he opened the door of the SUV for Serena. His hand rested on the small of her back before they drove away, leaving me with nothing but the acrid smell of spilled detergent and the wreckage of a reality that no longer existed.

As the SUV disappeared around the corner, my phone buzzed with a text from the collectors: "Tomorrow. Midnight. Don't be late." I had no job, no money, and no one left to save—except myself.

💥📘 Chapter 2

Mia POV

The heavy, insistent pounding on my apartment door started before the sun had risen.

I sat in a tight knot on the floor of my tiny, rundown living room, my knees pulled to my chin. The threat of the underworld collectors was no longer a vague fear; it was a physical presence in the room with me. They had called me twice in the middle of the night, their voices rough and violent, demanding the monthly payment for the debt I now knew was a lie.

The pounding ceased, replaced by the grating sound of a key turning in the lock.

Only one other person had a key to my apartment.

The door swung open, and Dante walked in. He was not wearing the impeccable bespoke suit from yesterday; he wore a faded jacket and worn-out jeans, and in his hand he held a small plastic bag of cheap apples. He was playing his twisted role again, acting precisely like the desperate, beleaguered man I thought I had fallen in love with.

"Mia," he said softly, his voice laced with a carefully crafted concern. "I heard you lost your job."

I stared at him, my stomach churning with a sour heat. How could he stand there and lie so easily to my face?

"I know who you are, Dante," I said, my voice hollow and thin. "I saw you. I heard you."

He set the bag of fruit on the cheap wooden table. He did not look panicked at all. He looked entirely, terrifyingly in control. He crossed the space between us in two strides and crouched down in front of me.

"I hid my wealth to ensure you loved me for me," he lied smoothly, his dark, unreadable eyes locked onto mine. "In my world, women only want the crown. They only want the money. I needed to know you were pure."

A dense, cold stone sat in my chest.

"You let me starve," I whispered, the betrayal a physical burn in my throat. "You let me work until my hands bled to pay off a debt that did not exist."

"It was a test," he said casually, dismissing my pain as if it were a trifle. "And now, I am going to take care of you. I will get you a respectable job at my company. You will be safe there."

He reached into his jacket and pulled out a sleek, black-and-gold Familia corporate card, placing it on the floor next to me.

"Go to the headquarters tomorrow morning," he said. "Ask for the HR Fixer."

He stood up and walked out, leaving me alone with the cheap fruit and the terrifying reality of the collectors who still wanted my money.

I picked up the card, my fingers trembling. I had no choice. But as I looked at the black-and-gold emblem, a single question burned in my mind: Was he saving me, or setting me up for something worse?

💥📘 Chapter 3

Mia POV

Desperate to pay off the loan sharks just to stay alive, I took the card and made my way to the Familia's towering legitimate headquarters the next morning.

The building was a monument of polished glass and cold steel. I walked into the massive, cavernous lobby, feeling entirely out of place in my faded sweater and worn jeans.

I found the HR Fixer on the third floor. He was a cold, calculating man who flicked his eyes at the black-and-gold card, then looked at me with a frank, undisguised contempt.

"The Don instructed us to find a place for you," the Fixer said in a monotone, sliding a grey, shapeless uniform across the gleaming desk. "You have been assigned to the lowest janitorial staff. Start on the executive floor."

I swallowed the heavy, acrid lump in my throat and took the uniform. I had no choice. The syndicate collectors would break my legs by Friday if I did not pay them.

An hour later, wearing the coarse, ill-fitting cleaner's uniform, I pushed a heavy supply cart toward the private executive elevators.

The burnished elevator doors chimed and slid open. Dante and Serena stepped out.

Serena stopped short, her perfectly drawn eyes widening in mock surprise before a cruel, bright smile spread across her face.

"Oh my," she laughed musically, her gaze traveling over me as if I were something to be scraped off a shoe. "Is this the new cleaning staff?"

Dante did not even blink. He looked at me as if I were nothing more than a smudge on his expensive marble floor.

"She lacks the pedigree for anything else," he stated coldly, his voice flat and devoid of emotion. "She is only fit to clean my floors."

A hot flush of shame burned my face. I gripped the handle of the plastic cart so tightly my knuckles turned a bloodless white.

"Go clean my office," Dante ordered, moving past me without a second glance.

I pushed the lumbering cart into his sprawling executive office. The air inside was heavy with the scent of cigar ash and expensive leather conditioning oil. I filled a bucket with warm water and got down on my hands and knees.

Serena lounged on the expensive leather sofa like a true Mafia Queen, sipping from a tall flute of champagne. Dante sat behind his massive desk, his dark eyes focused entirely on his syndicate ledgers. He did not lift his head.

I scrubbed the immaculate floor, my already raw fingers burning in the caustic soapy water. Every scrape of my brush against the marble floor felt like a small, fresh wound opening in my chest. I was bleeding my soul dry for a man who took pleasure in watching me crawl.

"You missed a spot right there," Serena pointed lazily with the rim of her glass.

Biting the inside of my cheek, I moved over and scrubbed the invisible spot.

"I have shown you enough mercy by giving you this job," Dante remarked coldly, turning a crisp page in his ledger. "Do not make me regret my charity."

I rose to my feet, picked up my heavy bucket, and walked out of the airless office.

The moment the heavy soundproofed door clicked shut behind me, my silent endurance finally broke, and hot tears spilled down my cheeks.

But just as I wiped my eyes, a dark shadow fell over me, and Serena stepped out into the quiet hallway with a cold, calculating smile.

"We're not done yet," she whispered, her eyes glinting like a blade. And I knew, with absolute certainty, that she had no intention of letting me leave this building alive.

✨️✨️✨️Full Story here
👉https://eng.moboreader.com/book/178AGY