The Mafia Don's Runaway Heiress Wife

Three years ago, I used my family's tech empire to marry Damien Moretti, a ruthless mafia Underboss. I naively thought my devotion could melt his frozen heart.

But a year ago, he paraded his mistress at our family gala just because she had the face of his dead ex.

When my pathetic jealousy boiled over and I stabbed him with a letter opener, he didn't kill me.

Instead, he banished me to the freezing, decaying West Wing of his estate.

For a whole year, I was locked away like a ghost. He flaunted his mistress, orchestrated a hostile takeover of my family's company, and let his maids treat me like garbage.

When I knelt outside his door begging for a divorce, he just gripped my jaw and delivered a death sentence.

"The only way you leave this family is in a coffin."

The naive girl who begged for his love died in that cold room. I finally realized I was nothing but a profitable ledger entry to him.

When he finally opened my door again, expecting to see a broken prisoner, I slapped him across his bleeding face.

"The deal is done. I want a divorce."

I walked straight out into the freezing Chicago rain, secretly swallowed a bottle of emergency contraceptives to kill any chance of carrying his heir, and prepared to tear up his mafia rules myself.