Betrayed By The Queen: A Don's Revenge

I washed my hands of blood and gave up my undisputed underworld throne to build my wife, Lucia, a pristine corporate empire.

But tonight, I caught her male secretary breaking into my encrypted mafia files.

Instead of punishing the rat for breaching Omertà, Lucia shielded him behind her back and demanded I apologize to him.

"You are acting like a street thug, not a husband."

She called my mafia heritage a toxic paranoia and threatened to freeze my access to the very accounts I created.

When the secretary shattered my late mother's priceless emerald heirloom, she protected him again, telling me to stop acting like a savage over a piece of jewelry.

She even stood by while he mocked the unspeakable torture I had willingly endured in a cartel basement years ago just to secure her safe release.

For five long years, I played the quiet, supportive husband, taking bullets and laundering funds to give her a legitimate crown.

Yet she chose to hand the keys of our empire to a treacherous parasite, dismissing the blood I spilled for her as dirt.

I looked at the woman I had once sworn an eternal blood oath to protect, feeling the last thread of my humanity snap.

I felt no grief, only a profound and cold clarity as I realized my sacrifices meant absolutely nothing.

"Our blood oath is dead, Lucia."

I signed the annulment papers, liquidated every cent of the blood money backing her company, and threw her to the wolves.