Why Did My Don Promise Forever But Have A Secret Family?

"....do you Mr Amber take Miss Lexy to be your wedded wife till the end of time?" I waited for a response, I was supposed to be standing in front of my husband to be, waiting for him to say yes and then get wedded to him for the rest of my miserable life,but guess what? It wasn't My husband to be in front of me, it was his best friend holding up his phone! My husband to be claimed he had important things to do and so he wouldn't make it hear in person! And so,he decided to do a voice -not video call!! "Yeah sure whatever", he said immediately and hung the phone. I paused first... realizing what just happened. And then the conclusion was done. I was doomed! ********* Being forced to marry a well feared and known gangster is bad, but not knowing who you're married to is worse! Lexy finds herself being forced to become the wife of a well known serial killer and Don of all Don's. She finds herself trapped in all angles as she realizes that she can't leave this marriage until one of them is dead, and she gladly puts herself on the front line to die first than spend her entire life with blood and guns all over again like her previous life. But her Don doesn't give up on her anytime soon no matter how infuriating she was and keeps his vow he made to her mother. Allowing herself to finally submit, she realizes her life is about to destroy ten times more than how it was before. Will she finally break from his charm over her, or will she stay and fight with the most feared gangster in the world, the Don of all Dons

"Good afternoon, ma'am. You just walked out of Boston City Hall looking absolutely radiant. Any special occasion to celebrate?" "I'm getting divorced." "I'm sorry to hear that. Would you mind telling me what happened?" "He's been bedding his late right-hand man's sister. In my art studio, on my yacht, across my private study desk, and even on the grand piano in our living room. He thought I didn't know." "I can't imagine how much this hurts. I'm so sorry for what you're going through. Where are you heading now?" "The hospital. Prenatal checkup." ... The interview went viral within hours for her calm, unflinching recounting of the betrayal and the shocking contrast between her glamorous mafia wife identity and her devastating situation. It didn't take long for netizens to dig out my identity, and the entire world now knows the woman in that video is me. Elena, Donna of the Moretti family. Three years ago, Vincenzo Moretti, the undisputed Don who ruled Boston's underworld with an iron fist, threw me a wedding that made headlines across the nation. Back then, everyone envied me, calling me the luckiest woman alive. But now? That interview had been online for nearly two days, and Vincenzo was still lost in his little love nest. By the time Vincenzo finally bothered to watch the video his men had forwarded to him, I was already in New Zealand. The whole world knew I was leaving Vincenzo Moretti. He was the last person on earth to find out.

I was eight months pregnant, at a charity gala with my husband, Don Massimo, when a rival family hit us. The crowd panicked. I was shoved to the floor, hard. Blood everywhere. Massimo lost his mind, screaming for medics, desperate to save my baby. But when I woke up, they were gone. Both of them. No baby, no Massimo. I remembered the gunfire, Massimo shielding me with his body. A cold dread washed over me. I hauled myself into a wheelchair and raced down the hall. That’s when I heard them—Massimo and the doctor. "Boss, I'm sorry. We did everything we could. The baby… he didn't make it." Tears streamed down my face. They killed my baby. The rival family killed my baby. But his next words shattered my world. "There was only one medical team. I had to make a choice. Bianca… she was carrying my child, too." Massimo sighed, then gave the order. "No one tells Arabella. She'll raise Bianca's son as her own. He will be my only heir." I slapped a hand over my mouth, my vision blurred by tears as I turned away. The man I loved was a lie. Fine. If he wants a war, he'll get one.

I’ve been in love with the Don of the Moretti family for ten years, and everyone knows he loves me more than life itself. In seven days, he’s throwing me a massive, grand wedding that will be live-streamed to the entire world. But I’m the only one who knows the truth: he’s been keeping a mistress behind my back. He’s kept her for two whole years, and he’s lied to my face for just as long. I didn't call him out on it. Instead, I planned a fake death. At our wedding in seven days, he’s going to lose me forever.

I’m the princess of the Hillrose Family. He’s Blair Falcone, Don of the Falcone Family. A perfect match. We were New York's power couple, the envy of everyone in the underworld. Until three days before our wedding. One minute, we were lost in each other, his body moving inside me, his lips trailing fire across my skin. The next, he calmly announces, "Flora, there's something I have to tell you." "Legally, I already have a wife. The old man married me off to her six years ago. She's the daughter of a man who took a bullet for him." "If you can live with it," he continued, "our marriage is still on. As planned." I stared at him in disbelief. "What about me? What were our six years?" He took a slow drag from his cigar. "I know what this is. So, what's it gonna be?" My hand instinctively went to my stomach. He didn't know. I was going to tell him my happy secret tonight: I was pregnant. But now, I wasn't going to tell him a damn thing.

I married Don Alessandro in secret. The Five Families of Chicago had ruled for generations. And I had married into the most powerful of them. For four years, Alessandro made me promises. One hundred and twelve times. And one hundred and twelve times, he left me standing alone. The first time, his ex‑girlfriend’s father had a heart attack. Alessandro canceled the wedding and stayed with her for three full weeks. The second time, she crashed her Maserati into a fountain in Monaco. Drunk. He flew there overnight and paid off the police chief personally. Every time, right before our wedding, she manufactured another crisis. I begged. I screamed. I put a knife to my own wrist. Alessandro just laughed, pulled the blade from my hand, and fucked me against the nearest wall. “She’s my ex‑girlfriend. You’re my wife. You don't need to be jealous of her.” After the one hundred and twelfth time, I stopped feeling anything. I pushed a piece of agreement in front of him.“Our marriage. Our alliance. Consider it terminated.”