The Coldhearted Don And His Powerful Queen

For five years, I bled for my fiancée, Elena. I drained my personal accounts to settle her family's ruinous debts and built a fortified estate to keep her safe from rival mafia families.

But as I stood at the altar, she video-called me from a hotel in Iceland, demanding I cancel the ceremony.

She was busy comforting Julian, a manipulative parasite who faked panic attacks to keep her attention. She had previously slapped our marriage papers from my hand, refusing to sign them because it would upset him.

"You are choosing your mafia pride over a victim's sanity."

Watching her bleed with sympathy for a fraud, the warmth I held for her for five years drained out of me like water from a cracked vessel.

She smiled smugly through the screen, completely certain that my love was an infinite resource she could exploit forever, believing I would never have the guts to abandon her.

So, I didn't cancel the ceremony. I turned to the woman standing beside me—Celeste, the ruthless heiress of the Sinclair syndicate.

"I do."

I married Celeste, merged our syndicates, and when Elena later embezzled three million dollars from my accounts to buy Julian an art gallery, I didn't protect her.

I transferred her massive debt directly to the unforgiving Sinclair enforcers, permanently blacklisted her number, and left her to face the wolves alone.