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Betrayed and Bound To Be The Mafia Queen Novel Cover

Betrayed and Bound To Be The Mafia Queen

After her husband, Luca Moretti, strips her of her power for his pregnant mistress, Amara Saints is left with nothing. To destroy him, she partners with ruthless rival Matteo Vitale. But as they scheme, Amara struggles to resist Matteo's magnetic pull. With Luca desperate to win her back and Matteo's true motives shrouded in mystery, Amara must decide if she is risking her heart to another dangerous liar or if this alliance could become something real.
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Chapter 4

Amara’s POV

"What the hell did you do?" Luca bellowed as he stormed in, the door to my office slamming open with a deafening crash, splintering the wood against the wall.

"Luca, what are you talking about?" I demanded, recovering from the surprise of his sudden visit.

"Don’t play innocent with me, Amara!" he spat, stalking toward me like a predator closing in on its prey. "Casey is in the hospital because of you. The brakes on her car were tampered with, and don’t you dare act like you had nothing to do with it."

I froze. "What?" I questioned in disbelief. "You think I would stoop so low?"

His eyes burned with rage, and he sneered at me as if I were something vile. "Don’t lie to me! You couldn’t stand that she’s carrying my child, could you? You wanted her dead because of your jealousy, your bitterness!"

His accusations hit me like a slap in the face, and my head throbbed in anger, my breath coming in shallow bursts. "I didn’t touch her car. I’d never hurt her, no matter how much she…" I swallowed hard, anger and betrayal tangling inside me. "How can you even think I’d do such a thing?"

"Because it’s exactly the kind of thing you’d do, Amara!" he roared, slamming his fist on the desk. The sound echoed, and a lamp tumbled to the floor, shattering. "You had every motive—especially now that half of your f*cking assets have been transferred to Casey’s name. You’d kill her!"

I stared at him, "What did you just say?" my voice barely carried the words as I stepped towards him, my fists clenching at my sides and I wanted to punch him to scream in his face, but the shock was still swirling in my system.

My assets, everything I worked hard for, she had gotten half of it?! No. It can’t be!

Luca stepped closer, his face contorted in a mix of anger and disdain. "Half of what was yours is now hers. She deserves it more than you ever did. She’s carrying my child, Amara. That means everything in this family."

"You gave her what belongs to me?!"

"You don’t deserve any of it," he barked. "Not after the way you’ve acted. You’re a bitter, conniving woman, Amara. Casey deserves better, and so do I."

"How dare you?" I hissed, stepping closer to him. My body trembled, but it wasn’t fear; it was rage. "You had no right. I built this family alongside you. I’ve given everything for The Obsidian, and you hand over what’s rightfully mine to her?"

"Don’t stand there pretending to be the victim," he snapped. "You’re nothing but a jealous, spiteful woman."

"I did nothing to Casey!" I shouted, my voice cracking under the weight of my anger. "Nothing! And you accuse me of trying to kill her because you think I’m jealous? Because you gave her what you stole from me?"

Luca’s eyes darkened, and before I could react, he grabbed me by the throat and slammed me against the wall. The impact stole the air from my lungs, and I clawed at his wrist as he tightened his grip.

"Pray that nothing happens to Casey or my child," he growled, venomously. "If they don’t survive, I’ll kill you. Do you hear me? I. will. kill. You.” And with every word he uttered, he tightened his grip, leaving me no air, feeling my lungs burning and my face hot with blood rushing.

When he released me, I collapsed to the floor, coughing and gasping for air. Tears blurred my vision as I clutched my neck with trembling hands. But the pain wasn’t just physical—it was the final, shattering blow to everything I had left.

Luca loomed over me, towering at my crumpled body. "This is your last warning, Amara. Cross me again, and I’ll strip you of everything—your power, your name, your life." He stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

For a long moment, I stayed there, catching my breath. The silence in the room felt deafening. My thoughts swirled with a storm of anger, hurt, and despair. He had taken everything. My trust. My dignity. My legacy. And now, he had tried to take my life.

I pushed myself to my feet, clutching the edge of the desk for support.

I couldn’t stay any longer. Not as his wife, his Donna, or anything else.

It’s over. I’m done.

Now, it’s time to claim the devil’s offer.

~~~

Two days later, I walked into the City hall, hiding the bruises on my neck beneath a high-collared coat. My lawyer trailed behind me, clutching the divorce documents. The Judge behind the desk paled as soon as he saw me, his pen halting mid-signature.

"Ms. Amara Saints," he began, his voice trembling slightly. "These matters take time…" he said after glancing at the divorce papers.

I cut him off with an icy glare. "You’ll process these immediately," I uttered, leaving no room for argument.

He stammered, glancing at my lawyer as if for backup. He knew who I was, who we are, and that we are beyond the law in this cruel world.

"These things… there are procedures. It could take up to a week to—"

"Two days," I interrupted sharply, leaning forward. "You’ll finalize this in two days. And if that’s not possible…" I smiled, a faint, humorless curve of my lips, "you’ll wish it were."

The color drained from his face, giving away that he understood what I meant. "Yes, of course. Two days," he said hastily, his hands trembling.

I straightened, satisfied. "Good. And just so you’re clear, Matteo Vitale knows about this. I trust you understand what that means."

His eyes widened at the mention of Matteo’s name, and he nodded quickly. "It will be done, Ms. Saints." I knew he feared him more because he could take his life, or strip him of his name and power. It’s a world where the ones seated are not the actual rulers—the gods are hidden behind curtains—like marionettes pulling strings to make the government dance at their will.

I turned and strode out. I stopped against a Corinthian column and dialed Matteo. The line clicked after a single ring.

"Amara Saints," he sounded amused. And knowing him, he must’ve heard the news already. The Judge probably contacted him to confirm.

"The divorce is being processed. It’ll be finalized in two days.”

There was a pause, followed by a low, devilish chuckle. "Efficient. Just as I’d expected from you, Amara" Matteo said, his voice warm with approval. "Good girl."

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