Too Late, Mafia Don: I Am Free

From the back cover

For three years, I surrendered my nights and bartered my own prospects to build a flawless legitimate business empire for my fiancé, Domenico, the most feared heir in the mafia syndicate.

But as I was finishing the final ledger to secure his seat as Don, a flight confirmation popped up on his phone.

He had booked two first-class tickets to a high-level mafia summit in Sicily—for himself and Lyla, the girl who had been actively trying to destroy my life.

When Domenico walked into the room, he didn't explain. Instead, he complained I was working too slowly.

He used the threat of breaking our arranged marriage as a leash, demanding I finish his work.

Lyla rushed in, playing the innocent victim, and Domenico immediately wrapped a comforting arm around her waist.

He looked at me with cold, vacant eyes and issued his final ultimatum.

"Apologize to her, and know your place, or you will be nothing to the Family."

His soldiers sneered, waiting eagerly for me to crawl back and beg for the future Don's favor.

I stared at the arrogant man I had sacrificed my youth for.

The dutiful beat of my heart, which had hammered out a rhythm for him alone, simply went still. The great, heavy anchor of my loyalty dissolved into a strange weightlessness.

I didn't shed a single tear.

I calmly stood up, walked over to the industrial shredder, and fed every single page of his commercial blueprint into the blades.

"The betrothal is dead," I told him, watching his future turn to confetti. "I owe neither of you a single word."