Blurb：
After three months expanding the Cortese Family’s criminal empire in Miami, Vanessa Cortese returns to find her husband Damon Russo with another woman—Chloe Williams—defiling her home. When Damon dares to defend his mistress, Vanessa unleashes her full power as the mafia princess. This is a story of betrayal, revenge, and ruthless dominance where Vanessa proves that crossing a Cortese has brutal consequences. Damon soon learns that without Vanessa’s protection, he’s nothing—just another disposable trophy husband in a world ruled by the Cortese crime family. As Vanessa reasserts control over her territory and her marriage, she demonstrates why she’s the true heir to the Cortese legacy, where loyalty is enforced with violence and disobedience means sleeping with the fish.
Content：
I’d been gone three months, growing our turf.
Came home to find some chick in my robe, on my couch, sipping my wine.
I called security. Lesson time.
Then Damonmy husband, who only mattered because he married mejumped in front of her.
It was a drunken mistake. She’s just some poor girl. You’re not seriously gonna flip over this, right?
I slapped him.
“A trophy like you thinks he gets a say now?”
Instead of shutting up, he asked for a divorce. For her.
Cool. I said yes.
He thought ditching me meant freedom. What he didn’t get? Without me, he was nobody.
Chapter 1
I came back from a three-month grind in Miami, opened the door, and boomsome random blonde was sprawled on my couch, rocking my silk robe and sipping my vintage red like she owned the place.
“Who the hell are you?”
She looked like she’d just stumbled out of a clubperfect makeup, long hair, fake confidence.
“Basement. Let her dry out,” I told Marco, my shadow since forever.
“Wait!” Damon, my husband, came flying down the stairs, arms wide. “Vanessa, it’s not what it looks like!”
Three months and this was the reunion? He looked like hellthinner, hair a mess, shirt hanging half-off like he got dressed mid-sin.
“Not what it looks like?” I stepped closer, voice flat. “She’s in my house. Wearing MY robe. Drinking MY wine. Wanna explain how that’s a mix-up?”
The blonde stood, robe slipping off her shoulder like she rehearsed it. Smirked.
She opened her mouth.
I shut that down real quick. “Did I say you could talk?”
Dead silence.
Damon knew that tone. Three years in, he should’ve.
“I just… had too much to drink. She” His voice cracked, scrambling for somethinganything.
“She what?” I closed the gap, close enough to catch that cheap perfume still hanging on him.
“She’s just a bar girl. Nothing happened,” he lied, shaking. “You’re always chill. I figured you wouldn’t freak over something so minor.”
Chill? Minor?
I stared at him.
Then slapped him. Hard.
Smack.
Echoed like a gunshot. He grabbed his cheek, blinking like he didn’t believe it.
A red handprint flared up, hot and bright.
“You’re a Russo clinging to this marriage like a life raft. What made you think you could act like you run a Cortese house?” My voice? All blade. “You’re a prop. Stay in your lane.”
“Vanessa”
“Shut up.”
I turned to Blondie. Sized her up. Early twenties, nice curves, but those eyes? Hungry.
“Name?”
“Chloe… Chloe Williams.” Her voice trembled. Guess watching your sugar daddy get slapped around does that.
“Cute.” I circled her slow. “That robe? Custom silk. Three grand. Looks better on fire.”
“I… I can explain”
“No need.” I pulled out my phone. “Sofia, send Ms. Williams to the bar on 12th. Janitor shift. Tonight.”
Her face went white. “No, please! I’ll leave, I swear”
“Too late. Your name’s Trash Jan now.” I looked down at her.
That bar? Total dump. Reeks of piss and broken dreams. The kind of place cockroaches check out of. A cleaning gig there was hell.
“You can’t do this!” Damon lunged forward, desperate. “She didn’t do anything!”
“Oh yeah?” I turned to him, eyes sharp as knives. “What else am I not allowed to do?”
He opened his mouth. Nothing.
He knew damn well how this works.
The Cortese Family runs this city.
And I’m the Principessa.
“Marco,” I said cool, “if she refuses the job, strip her and drop her back at whatever sewer she slithered out of.”
“No!” Chloe dropped to her knees, sobbing. “I’ll go! I’ll do it!”
I gave a nod.
Then looked at Damon. “Next time you bring a stray into my house, you both sleep with the fish.”
Marco dragged her out. She threw Damon a lookhate and fear mixed in one.
Now it was just us.
He stood there, torn between rage and regret.
“Three months,” I said, sinking into the couch like it was just another Tuesday. “I crush dock unions, expand our turf, and this is what you do to say thanks?”
“Vanessa, I”
“Out of my face.” I waved him off like trash. “Before you end up sweeping floors too.”
He hesitated. Eyes burning.
Then stormed out and slammed the door.
Chapter 2
“Report’s in, Signora.”
Sofia slapped a thick file and a fat envelope of photos on my desk.
I flipped it open. Damon, caught in 4Kdates, places, even receipts.
“Strip club. Three nights a week.”
One pic had him and Chloe all over each other in some grimy VIP booth. She was draped across his lap, both of them sloppy on cocktails.
“Yeah… that ain’t a ‘drunken mistake.'”
“Our guys say it’s been at least two months,” Sofia said coolly. “And the club? Benedetto turf.”
I snapped the file shut, fingers drumming.
Benedettos were rats. We’d butted heads over everythingguns, coke, bodies.
Damon sneaking over there? That wasn’t cheating. That was treason.
“What else?”
“He used the family card.” Sofia flipped a page. “Blew a hundred twenty grand spoiling her.”
A hundred twenty grand.
Generous for a guy with jelly for a spine.
Three years ago, his old man, Giovanni, screwed the pooch as capo. Should’ve been toast.
But Damon? He had that baby-face charm. Soft voice, smooth smile. My type, back then.
I married him, saved his whole bloodline. Giovanni kept his title, got to breathe easy.
Damon played house like a good boypolite, quiet, soft. I treated him right.
But three years of easy living? Made him forget who handed him that silver spoon.
“Send someone to check on Chloe. 12th Street.”
An hour later, Sofia strolled in with a smirk.
“She made sure to clean the alley Damon walks through. Got her hands filthyreally sold the whole ‘broken and sad’ bit.”
Sofia scoffed. “Didn’t take long. He showed.”
I let out a cold laugh.
Right on cue, Damon stormed into my office, looking ready to explode.
“Vanessa! Why are you torturing an innocent woman?” He jabbed a finger, voice cracking.
I set my pen down. Looked up, slow.
“Innocent?” My voice barely made a sound.
“She’s just a poor girl!” he barked. “You can’t do this to her!”
“Poor?” I stood, circling the desk. “A stripper, grinding on enemy turf, playing house with my husband for two months, and blowing through a hundred and twenty grand of Cortese money? That’s your innocent?”
His face twitched. “It… it was me. I started it.”
“Oh, so it’s not her fault?” I stepped in, right up in his space. “Whose, then? Mine? For running our empire while you whined about feeling lonely?”
“That’s not what I meant…”
He backed up, hit the door.
“Then spit it out,” I said, voice sharp enough to slice. “Say it, Damon Russo.”
He tried to stand tall. Failed.
“I just think… you didn’t have to humiliate her.”
I barked a laugh. “Humiliation? You wanna talk about that?”
I pointed at the family portrait on the wall.
“If I hadn’t said yes, your father would’ve vanished.”
Each word hit like a bullet.
“Three years ago. He lost fifty mil worth of product and nearly got ten of our guys clipped.”
Damon went ghost-white.
“If I hadn’t said yes to marrying you, your whole bloodline would’ve been wiped clean off the Chicago map.” I didn’t stop. “You think you’ve been living in silk suits, cruising around in luxury, sleeping under a marble roof ’cause you earned it?”
“Nah,” I said slowly, like a verdict. “It’s ’cause you married ME. You got to flash the Cortese name. And now you’re losing your mind over a stripper?”
He was shakingcould’ve been fury, could’ve been shame.
Fists clenched, veins popping.
“I’m done!” he roared, loud enough to rattle the windows. “I’m done living like a damn parasite! Done letting you pull the strings!”
I didn’t blink. “Then what do you want, Damon?”
He sucked in a breath, eyes wildlike he was walking himself off a cliff.
“I want a divorce.”
Chapter 3
“Divorce?” I shot him a smile, cold and sharp. “Fine.”
Damon froze like I’d just smacked him. Didn’t expect that, huh?
His mouth opened, no sound. I was already at my desk.
“Sofia, get the divorce papers started,” I said, grabbing a pen. “And let my father knowDamon’s got something to say.”
“Vanessa, I”
“You want out, right?” I didn’t even glance at him. “Then take it to the Don. Family rules.”
His jaw clenched, but that fake tough guy look stayed plastered on.
“What, you wanna settle this in secret?” I dropped the pen, stared him down. “You forget who you married? I’m not some deli guy’s kid.”
“This was a mafia deal from the jump,” Sofia chimed in, smirking. “If you’re tapping out, better get the Don’s blessing.”
Damon gulped. Sweat slid down his face.
Yeah, he hadn’t thought this through.
Probably figured a mafia marriage ends like some courthouse quickie.
Still, hope’s a stubborn thing. He stormed off to Papa’s office like he had a shot.
As soon as he left, Sofia stepped up. “Signora, what do you think the Don’s gonna do?”
I leaned back, kept signing. “Let’s see… cheats with some bar trash, burns through our money, then wants a divorce? Papa’s gonna teach him what loyalty really means.”
Half an hour later, the whole place shook with Papa’s roar.
“You said WHAT?!”
Thensmash.
And Damon’s screams followed.
The doors flew open. Two guards dragged him out, bloody and wrecked. His face looked like ground beef, shirt soaked in red.
Sofia strolled back in, grinning like it was Christmas. “Don’s pissed.”
“And?”
“Cracked a rib. Dumped him in an old shipping container down by the docks,” she said. “Said he needs some time to cool offand remember what loyalty means.”
I nodded. Exactly what I figured.
My father, Antonio Cortese, doesn’t play. He’s the kind of old-school Don who treats betrayal like a disease.
Damon thought he could walk away like this was some regular breakup.
He never got it.
Yeah, he was my husband.
But first and alwayshe was a piece on the board. Property of the Family.
***
An hour later, a knock hit the doorthough it was already open.
“Ms. Cortese.”
I looked up. Chloe.
“Come in.”
She stepped in slow, eyes darting around the room, then dropped to her knees.
“Please, let Damon go!” she sobbed. “It’s my fault. I seduced him!”
I watched her, cold smirk curling inside.
Smart moveplay the noble mistress, throw herself under the bus. To make Damon look like a victim, me like the villain.
Too bad she picked the wrong game.
“You wanna save him?” I stood, looking down at her.
“Yes!” Chloe nodded fast, tears pouring. “I’ll do anything. I’ll keep working at the bar. I’ll give you more money!”
“Anything?” I circled her like I was weighing it out. “Even sharing his punishment?”
Her face drained, but she still nodded. “Yes. I’ll go with him.”
How romantic.
“Perfect.” I sat down, grabbed the phone. “Sofia, get the guys ready.”
“Send Chloe to the container,” I said, calm as ever. “Let her join Damon.”
She went limp. That flicker in her eyes? Gone.
Took her long enough to figure it outI was never buying her act.
“That container,” I added, “you can count survivors on one hand.”
“No… No!” Chloe scrambled back, crawling toward the door. “I changed my mind! I don’t wannaI don’t wanna die!”
Too late.
Two guards stepped in, grabbed her by the arms.
She thrashed like mad, nails dragging across the floor.
“Congrats, Ms. Williams,” I said with a smile. “You’re about to have your big reunion with Prince Charming.”
Chapter 4
“It’s all your damn fault!”
Chloe’s voice screeched through the monitor, echoing off the rusted metal walls.
I watched from outside, arms crossed, eyes locked on the screen.
The container was a dumpsmelled like rust and sea rot. No windows, just a tiny vent letting in barely enough air to breathe. Light was crap, made the whole place feel like a coffin.
Damon was curled in a corner, bandaged up and ghost-pale.
Chloe loomed over him, all her fake sweetness gone.
“If you hadn’t pissed off Vanessa, I wouldn’t be trapped in this hellhole!” Her finger jabbed at him, voice cracking with panic and rage.
Took just a few hours for reality to slap her in the face.
This wasn’t some rom-com fairytale. No white knight. No rescue. Just cold steel and consequences.
“Chloe, I…” Damon tried to sit up, wincing hard as pain shot through his chest.
That cocky tone he used to flash around me? Gone.
“Too late for that now!” Chloe snapped, pacing like a wildcat in a cage.
Her heels shrieked against the metal floor.
“I could’ve kept grinding at the bar, yeahit sucked, but I was safe! But you” She whirled on him, eyes lit with fury. “You said Vanessa was just some spoiled girl!
“You said she wouldn’t touch me!
“You said the worst she’d do was throw a tantrum!”
Damon’s face flushed. “I… I didn’t think she’d go this far…”
“Go this far?” Chloe laughed, sharp and hollow. “She’s a freaking mafia princess! What, you thought this was just some soap opera?”
She kicked a metal barrelloud clang.
“The guards said some of those stains on the wall? Blood. And some… yeah.” She didn’t finish, didn’t need to. Damon’s flinch said it all.
Silence dropped like a weight. Just wind rattling the container and waves crashing somewhere far off.
They were buried deep in the docks. Even if someone heard them, no one would care.
“Damon.” Her voice cracked, way softer now.
She edged closer, fear dragging her back to him. Like it or not, he was all she had.
She crouched beside him, fury melting into raw panic.
“Are we gonna die here?” she breathed.
“We’re not,” he muttered, jaw tight. “I’ll fix it.”
“How?!” Chloe grabbed his hand. “She crushed your ribs!”
“I’ll beg Vanessa. Tell her I screwed up.” He didn’t believe it.
Now he finally saw just how dumb he’d been.
After three years in the family, he still thought he mattered. Thought he had pull.
Now he got ithe was nothing but a tagalong.
“Will she forgive you?” Chloe whispered.
“She will,” he muttered. “She’s still my wife.”
Even he didn’t buy that lie. Regret was already chewing him up inside.
Two hours later, he bribed a guard for an old phone.
With shaking fingers, he hit record.
“Vanessa… I was wrong. So wrong.” His voice shook. “I never should’ve betrayed you. Never should’ve brought her into our home.
“I’ll do anything. Whatever you want, it’s yours. Just… forgive me.”
“I love you, Vanessa. Always have.” He was choking back tears. “Please… give me one more chance. I won’t screw it up again.
“I’ll prove to you I’m worthy of being your husband.
Five minutes of groveling. Pathetic.
A long fall from the cocky texts he used to send me.
Now, for Chloe’s sake, he was sugar and fake promises.
Still a smooth talker. Just desperate now.
I wiped the message, eyes fixed on the window.
City lights blinked in the dark, cold and nosylike this whole rotten world was watching.
“Signora, do you want to reply?” Sofia asked.
I tossed the phone down. “Nah. Get some sleep. Tomorrow, we watch the show.”
Chapter 5
“Please, pleaselet us go!”
I stood outside the container, eyes on the monitor.
Damon was on his knees, shirt soaked with blood, one arm hanging useless.
Chloe crouched next to himhair a mess, face wrecked, bruises blooming through ripped clothes.
“I messed up, Vanessa. I know that now.” His voice cracked. “I’ll do whatever you want.”
“No more arguments. I swear.” He glanced up at the camera, tears clearly fake.
I tapped the folder in my hand, smirking at the performance.
Three days ago, this guy was yelling for a divorce.
Now? On his knees, begging like some pathetic stray.
What a joke.
“Anything?” I said through the intercom, my voice bouncing off the steel walls.
“Yes! Anything!” Damon nodded like he saw a way out.
That flicker of hope in his eyeshe really thought I was going soft.
Sad. He still didn’t get it.
“Even if I sell Chloe to the Mexican cartels as a plaything, you’d be cool with that?”
Silence.
Just the wind shaking the container and waves crashing in the distance.
Damon went ghost-white. Lips quivering. No words.
He looked at Chloe, stuck between fury and shame.
She stared back, terrified, begging him with her eyesnot now, not for love.
Survival came first.
“I… I…” He swallowed hard, then looked at me like I’d ruined his life.
For three years, everyone called him the Cortese tagalong. He had the house, the car, but zero respect.
He bought into the whispers, convinced he could be more than just Vanessa’s husband.
Sure, I gave him everything, but at parties? He was a shadow.
Chloe made him feel like a kingsoft, sweet, always saying the right thing.
With her, he mattered.
But now? One wrong move and he’d be shark food.
So he did what cowards dofake it. Say what I wanted. Stick close to the money.
Used to be, all it took was a few sweet lines to score cars and watches.
“Hurry up and say it!” Chloe snapped.
Damon made his choice. Jaw tight, he spat, “Anything you want, I’ll agree to it.”
Then he let out a breath.
“Good.” I gave a slow nod. “Looks like you finally get what obedience means.”
His whole face lit up. Thought the nightmare was over.
Probably already dreaming up ways to earn my trust again.
Then sell us out to the highest bidder. Get his revenge nice and quiet.
“But…” I let the word hang, voice ice-cold. “Now you want to play weak? Kinda late for that.”
The container door slammed open.
Blinding sunlight flooded in. They squinted.
Sofia walked in, hauling a busted duffel like it was trash day.
“By order of La Famiglia,” she said, dropping it at Damon’s feet with a loud thud, “You ain’t Cortese no more.”
Then came the filestraight from the Cortese Church tribunal. Black and white. His name wiped clean.
“You’re out.”
Thunder couldn’t have hit harder. Whatever scrap of hope he had? Dead.
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