Rising From His Broken Mafia Vows

Mob boss Dante Falcone plucked me off the streets and made me his queen.

I thought I'd married the most loyal man in the underworld, until I caught him with my cousin Lucia.

She was six months pregnant with his child, living in our luxury villa.

After the car accident, I needed a blood transfusion to save our unborn baby.

The blood bank was empty.

Dante had ordered all emergency medical resources redirected to save his mistress.

He signed our child's death warrant with his own hand.

When I woke up to find my stomach horribly flat, my phone rang.

It was Dante, ecstatic because he'd just seen my old pregnancy test results, completely unaware he'd already killed his own heir.

"I'm going to build an empire for our child," he promised.

I didn't say a word.

I hung up, secretly signed the divorce papers, and called my intelligence contact, demanding immediate extraction.

After I disappeared, the untouchable Don finally understood what it meant to lose everything. He burned the world down and swore he'd bring me back.

Chapter 1

Sienna's Perspective

At my wedding, moments before Dante Falcone and I exchanged rings, my cousin Lucia interrupted the ceremony.

"I tattooed your name on my hip and my collarbone," she told my husband-to-be. "You have to end this marriage, Dante. I'm the one who should be marrying you."

She pulled down her neckline, revealing angry, inflamed skin.

The Falcone family crest sat above her collarbone, intertwined with Dante's name.

Suddenly, my chest felt hollow. A sour, nauseous taste rose in my throat, and I had to force myself to swallow.

Dante Falcone wasn't just a man.

He was the most feared person in the country, with absolute control over the docks, politicians, and the underground intelligence network.

My mind drifted back to the night it all began.

At sixteen, when I refused to donate a kidney to Lucia, my mother threw me out into a storm.

That night, Dante emerged from the shadows like a ghost made flesh.

He wrapped me in his cashmere coat, took me to his clinic, and paid for my education.

He became my guardian, my savior, my first love.

Now, across the glittering ballroom, he turned to look at me.

He saw Lucia baring her skin to me, and the muscles around his jaw tightened with fury.

"How dare you!"

Within seconds, his guards grabbed Lucia's arms and dragged her struggling body from the reception hall.

"She's just a crazy woman trying to ruin our day," Dante cursed, his strong arms wrapping around me like a cage as he pressed a fervent kiss to my forehead.

The next morning, Lucia's name vanished from the family payroll, as if she'd never existed.

I needed to believe in the man who'd saved my life, I told myself.

That blind trust carried me through the next two months, until one suffocating afternoon when I walked into Syndicate headquarters to bring Dante lunch.

I stopped outside his heavy door, my hand hovering over the handle.

A low moan, clearly pleasurable, filtered through the wood, followed by the wet sound of flesh against flesh.

Cold sweat broke out instantly. My feet nailed themselves to the floor.

I kicked the door open. The deafening crash echoed through the room.

Dante scrambled up from the leather couch, frantically gathering his torn shirt fabric to cover the half-naked Lucia.

His usual chilling composure shattered, replaced by a look of pure terror.

"Sienna, please, let me explain!"

The lunchbox slipped from my hands. Glass shattered. And I ran.

I reached the station before the armored convoy he sent could cut off every escape route.

Dante stepped out of his car as rain poured down.

He ignored his umbrella-holding security. From the trunk, he dragged a battered Lucia and threw her at my feet like a ragdoll.

She was covered in blood, her pleas for mercy weak and hysterical.

"She lured you here today on purpose. She dared to provoke you. I've already taught her a lesson."

Dante pulled a custom knife from his belt.

Holding my gaze, he claimed Lucia had meticulously planned a despicable trap, then, without hesitation, he drove the blade into his own stomach.

He grunted, pulled it out, and stabbed himself again.

Then a third time.

Blood soaked his expensive suit. He collapsed to his knees in the puddles, begging for another chance.

I sank onto the wet ground, my trembling hands pressing against his wounds, the smell of his blood filling my lungs.

Bound by a decade of soul-deep love, I gave in.

But as I bandaged his wounds in the back seat of his car, I made a blood vow to his face.

"A second betrayal means the end of our marriage," I told him, my voice dead, hollow.

He professed his love to me with a frantic, almost desperate passion that pressed against my chest like a boulder, making every breath a struggle.

For the next six months, I convinced myself the nightmare was over.

Especially on that quiet morning when I sat in the bathroom, staring at the positive pregnancy test.

I was carrying the Falcone heir.

Suddenly, my phone vibrated with a text from an unknown number.

I opened it, my heart hammering against my ribs.

It was a photo of Dante.

He was gently guiding a heavily pregnant Lucia through the manicured gardens of the luxury penthouse, the very estate I'd chosen for our future family.

The courtyard was filled with imported black peonies, the rare flowers Dante had once used to court me.

My throat closed up, like invisible hands were strangling my windpipe.

I couldn't catch my breath.

I scrolled down and saw the attached medical files, confirming Lucia was six months pregnant.

The moment his knife wounds healed, he'd immediately resumed the affair.

Stomach acid surged up my esophagus without warning. I doubled over the porcelain sink, dry-heaving, tears burning my eyes.

I wiped my mouth, grabbed my purse and the blank divorce papers, and drove straight to the Syndicate headquarters.

I stood in the shadows outside his office, a ghost haunting my own kingdom.

His top captains were laughing, saying Lucia wanted to usurp my position.

"She knows her place," Dante said. "If she crosses the line, I'll break her limbs. The person I love is Sienna. That will never change."

He paused, then continued, his voice laced with a sick, tender obsession.

"Sienna will never know. And if she finds out, I'll lock her in the estate's vault. She'll never be able to leave me."

An icy dread crawled up my spine, like my blood had stopped flowing.

I retreated into the dark corridor, pressing myself against the wallpaper.

I watched armed guards step aside, letting his mistress pass through security, and realized, I was the only prisoner in this castle.