Don 3: The Final Chapter Novels & Stories

Sasha Riverton is a mafia princess and heiress to the Riverton empire, unfortunately, her father was attacked by a rival mafia clan and they were overpowered. Broke and desperate so they had no choice but to sell her to the most dangerous mafia Don in the country. Sasha hated her family's involvement in the mafia world and secretly didn't want to be a part of it. She was livid when she found out about their deal with the notorious Roman Vitale. She decided to accept her fate and plot her freedom because she was in love with another and she would do anything to be with him. What happens when her plans are thwarted? Will she accept defeat or fight tooth and nail for her freedom? What happens when she finds out things are not the way they seem? Will that change her determined heart or will she use it to her advantage?

Book 1 Saints and Sinners She was the light to my dark. The saint to my sinner. with her innocent eyes and devilish curves. A Madonna that was meant to be admired but never touched. Until someone took that innocence from her. She left. The darkness in my heart was finally complete. I avenged her, I killed for her, but she never came back. Until I saw her again. An angel dancing around a pole for money. She didn’t know I owned that club. She didn’t know I was watching. This time I won’t let her escape. I will make her back into the girl I knew. Whether she likes it or not. Book 2 Judge and Jury I can’t stop watching her. I’m not even sure I want to. Taylor Lawson, blonde, beautiful, and totally oblivious to how much dangers she’s in. She’s also the one juror in my upcoming murder trial that hasn’t been bought. The one who can put me behind bars for a very long time. I know I should execute her. After all that’s what I do. I am the Judge. I eliminate threats to The Family. And Taylor is a threat. But I don’t want to kill her. Possessing her, making her love me seems like a much better plan for this particular Juror.

My fiancé of three years, Julius, sold me. To a black market auction in Vegas. I was sold to another man for five million dollars. Julius was begging me. "I owe five million," he pleaded. "If I don't pay up, they're gonna dump me in the river." "You're a dead ringer for the Don of the Norling family's late wife. All you have to do is keep him happy, and my debt gets wiped clean." "Don't worry," he said. "When he gets tired of you, I won't think any less of you. We'll still get married." So they drugged me and delivered me to an estate that was all too familiar. But here’s what he didn't know. The Don of the Norling family would kill for his daughter. And I'm that daughter. The one he’s kept hidden all these years.

Before the day of my husband's succession as the Don, my stepsister personally tattooed the "Inverted Angel's Eye"—the mark of a traitor—onto my back. My husband didn't just turn a blind eye; when the family vendetta broke out, he withdrew all the elite guards to protect my "pregnant" stepsister, leaving me alone in a defenseless city to face the slaughter.  "Elena, you are strong enough to protect yourself. But Sophia is fragile, and she is carrying my firstborn. She needs the protection more than you." Facing a siege of heavy firepower, I survived by the skin of my teeth. He thought I would swallow the insult for the sake of the family's reputation. He didn't expect that I would kick open the doors of his coronation ceremony wearing mourning weeds, flanked by the FBI and the Commission, and personally strip him of his title. "Goodbye, Lorenzo. This time, I choose to be the Don."

I was on my way to pick up my son from school when I got a call from his teacher. “Mrs. Corleone, you don’t need to come. Your husband — the one who’s been missing for five years — just picked up your son from school.” My chest tightened with unease, and I quickly corrected her. “Teacher, you must be mistaken. My boy's dad in Sicily on business. Where is this ‘other husband’ coming from?” After a short pause on the phone, the teacher spoke again. “Mr. Corleone said you don’t have to lie. He said he won’t kick you out of the Corleone family, since you gave him a son after you ran away from the wedding.” “You only have to give your position as his wife to the woman who saved his life.” I rolled my eyes. Deliberately raising my voice, I sent a voice message to his uncle. “Darling, come home immediately! Your nephew is back and trying to take our son!” Then I heard a crash on the other end.

Three days before our wedding, my fiancé, Raphael Russo, was killed in a gang shootout. They didn't even find a body. As I was drowning in grief, comments suddenly flashed before my eyes: 【Wake up, girl! the coffin's empty! He faked his death! The scumbag ran off to be with that scheming bitch chloe, the one pretending to be sick!】 【While you're crying your eyes out at the funeral, Raphael is fucking Chloe’s brains out in a hotel bed.】 【When he comes back, he'll claim he has amnesia. You won't know a thing and you'll forgive him. You poor thing…】 A month later, news of my marriage to Mafia Don Marcello Falcone spread through New York. Raphael’s right-hand man cornered me, furious. “How could you betray the Boss?” I tightened my grip on Marcello’s arm and smiled. “A girl can’t mourn forever, can she? I’m sure Raphael, in spirit, would be happy for me.”

On the day the real heiress was welcomed home, my fiancé was already sleeping with her. Staring at the blue pills and torn lingerie scattered on the floor, I told them to get the hell out of my wedding house. But a second later, my father stormed in and slapped me hard across the face. "Who are you to tell her to leave? Bella is our real daughter!" "Elena, you’re just an outsider we took in by mistake. You’re the one who needs to get out." Marco wrapped his arm around Bella, his tone impatient: "Elena, I’m the heir to the Moretti family. I can’t marry a mongrel with impure blood like you. If you don't want to bring shame to the family, be smart and go tell the Don the wedding is off tomorrow." Bella gave a coy smile and tossed a stack of cash at my feet like she was giving alms: "Sister, I know Marco and I hurt you, but we’re true love." "Take this as your severance package. Take the money and get lost." I suppressed my rage and stepped forward to throw these disgusting people out, but Marco shoved me violently. "I told you, I’m not marrying you! Keep pestering us, and don't blame me for getting rough!" My stomach slammed against the table. I laughed out of pure anger. Who said I wanted to marry him? The one I’m going to marry is his father—the Don of the Moretti family, Lorenzo.

​The Price of Peace is the final showdown and book three for the No Regrets crew, where the masks come off and the bills finally come due. Shane O’Brien is done playing house. He’s been living his life like a "glorified roommate" with his wife, Isla, ever since she broke their vows with her best friend's husband, but now the cold war is turning hot. While Shane finds a temporary sanctuary with Maya Cruz, Isla is weaponizing their children trying to save a marriage that might already be lost, but will she realize this too late, or burn the whole house down. Speaking of Maya, she has a few secrets of her own, one that involves Mayor Rogers and a scandal that could level the city. ​In the courtroom, Crandon Morgan is fighting to keep his name clean after a very public mental meltdown. He’s looking for a comeback, but he finds a distraction in Tempest Summers, a new law junior associate with a haunted past and a hunger for a kind of justice the law books don’t cover. ​Meanwhile, Kole Michaels is trapped in a different kind of nightmare. A past mistake named Akeisha is using a legal loophole to pin a child named Urmagisty on him. With his relationship with a different Keisha on the line and his daughter Mabel watching, Kole has to prove he’s being set up before the lie becomes his life. ​In this game, peace isn't free, you have to pay for it in blood, truth, or with everything you own.

My ex-boyfriend, the Don's heir, was getting married today. In the grand reception hall, the bride, Elena, moved through the crowd with a champagne flute in hand, toasting the bosses and captains who'd flown in from across the island. In the dressing room, Luca had me pinned against the gown the bride had just changed out of, fucking me hard. The mirror gave me back a stranger, hair tangled, not a stitch of clothing left on me, my neck covered in marks he'd left like a signature. The camera on the side table blinked red. Three knocks at the door. Luca stood up, straightened the white rose boutonniere on his lapel, picked up the black earpiece from the table and pressed it in. He tossed it at me without looking. "One night. Half a million euros. Anna, you're even pricier than I remembered." I watched his back as he walked out, and picked up the check with shaking hands. Rosa, don't be scared. Mama's got the money to save you.

I went to try on my wedding gown with Lorenzo—my fiancé, the Don of the Morretti family. My younger sister, Serafina, begged to come along. I stepped out from behind the velvet curtain. There she was, pinning a brooch to his lapel. I opened my mouth to say, “Let me do that,” but the photographer had already turned to her with a grin. “Newlyweds, look this way.” They both turned. The camera clicked twice, and the photographer brushed past me. Ninety-nine shots. Every single one of Serafina and Lorenzo. Not one of me—the actual bride. I stood there, hollow. When we were children, they always played bride and groom. I clapped on cue. When we grew up, they sat at the head of family councils; I made their coffee and kept the kitchen running. “Vittoria, hand me the veil.” Lorenzo saw I hadn’t moved, walked over, and gently pulled the tulle from my stiff fingers. “Why are you standing there like that? Go check the seating chart with the butler. I’ll join you after we finish Serafina’s shots.” The photographer lifted one eye from behind his camera. “Miss Vittoria, would you step back a little? You’re blocking the light.” I stepped all the way back to the heavy drapes by the window. And right there, it hit me—how absurd this all was. If this political marriage didn’t actually need me, then I didn’t need to show up for it either.