Swapped at Birth, Claimed by the Mafia King

In our family, my sister Isabella was the prized mafia princess, while I was the secret daughter kept in the basement and treated like a stray dog.

After I accidentally scalded my hand with boiling espresso from sheer exhaustion, my mother didn't even look at my severe burns.

Instead, she violently shoved me into a plaster wall just to make sure Isabella's silk dress was clean.

To make matters worse, my parents calmly announced they were selling me as a cheap bride to an old Chicago boss to pay off my father's gambling debts.

The buyer was a ruthless wolf who had already collected life insurance on three dead wives.

Isabella faked delicate tears in front of the syndicate guests, but gave me a venomous smirk the moment they looked away.

I was thrown back into the dark storage closet to wait for my doom, my blistered hand throbbing in pure agony.

I didn't understand why my own flesh and blood hated me so deeply, casting me to a murderer while giving Isabella the entire world.

I was absolutely terrified of dying slowly at the hands of a monster who bought me just to settle a debt.

With a cold certainty pressing in, my trembling fingers pulled out a mysterious burner phone I had found in the trash.

I pressed the call button, dialing Dante Falcone, the deadliest Don in New York.

"Are you truly looking for me?"

I whispered into the receiver, praying he would claim me before my family could destroy me.