Shattered Vows: Marrying The Dark Don

For seven years, I have been the submissive commoner wife of Julian, the New York Mafia boss.

When he finally realized what he had ruined and stabbed himself with a dagger, begging for my forgiveness, I simply turned and walked away.

I endured his endless betrayals and cruelty for only one reason: he paid for my grandmother's life-sustaining treatment.

But while he was busy buying diamonds for his new mistress, the pressure of his emotional abuse caused me to lose our child.

His mistress broke into my grandmother's hospital room and threw explicit photos of her and Julian in my grandmother's face. My grandmother died from shock.

Julian knew nothing about this.

“Go home, Sienna. You’re pregnant. Stop making a scene, or I’ll cut off your grandmother’s medical bills tomorrow.”

When I found him, he arrogantly thought I was just throwing a tantrum.

He didn't know our child was gone.

He didn't know that my grandmother had passed away.

In front of all his men, I poured a glass of whiskey over his head, left the signed divorce papers on his table, and then boarded a one-way flight to Germany.

I will leave him forever.

Chapter 1

Sienna's POV:

The divorce papers lay on the desk.

A dull vibration hummed against the polished wood; his phone screen lit up with a new message from his mistress: "Room 402. Don't keep me waiting."

He was the head of the Falcone crime family, a man who made grown men in New York tremble.

"Divorce? You can't be serious. Sienna, if you keep acting irrational," Julian warned, his voice dripping with condescension, "I'll stop paying for your grandmother's medical bills."

He hadn't even read the legal documents that would dissolve our seven-year marriage.

He picked up his phone, thumbs moving across the screen. I watched him type his reply, confirming his afternoon plans.

"What is it this time, Sienna?" he asked, his tone laced with arrogant boredom. "The house? A car? Jewelry? A trust fund?"

"I don't want anything," I said, my voice flat. "No offshore accounts. No car. No family assets. A clean break."

Julian let out a sharp, mocking laugh, leaning back in his leather chair.

"You don't want anything. Right. Like you didn't want anything when you threw a fit about me missing your OB-GYN appointment."

My face remained impassive at the mention of it.

"I was busy acquiring a new hobby," he confessed casually, a cruel smirk twisting his lips. "Buying a diamond necklace. You should see how it looks against her skin."

I thought of this morning, of finding the black lace panties hidden beneath the jewelry box.

His phone buzzed again – a FaceTime call. Vivian's photo lit up the screen.

I stepped forward, placing my palm flat over the screen, blocking his view. "Julian. Sign the papers."

He looked up and laughed, a full, arrogant sound.

"So, you are jealous. Honey, I know you're crazy in love with me. And I love you too."

"But, baby, I told you long ago, loving only you is just too boring."

"Enough of this game. Withdraw that ridiculous divorce petition, Sienna."

He stood, his tall frame casting a shadow over me.

"Do you know what happens to you without my protection?" he sneered. "You'll have nothing. You're pregnant. You can't leave me."

I stared at his chest, listening to his steady breathing. He was using my deepest vulnerabilities as weapons, which was entirely in character.

A silent, brutal truth echoed in my mind.

The baby was already gone.

The stress-induced miscarriage had happened three days ago.

"Your grandmother is dying. Leaving the hospital is a death sentence for her. Can you afford her care?"

So, he still didn't know. My grandmother was already dead.

I found I didn't have the strength to say the words aloud.

His phone vibrated insistently against my palm. Annoyed by the persistent buzzing, Julian snatched a pen from the desk.

"Fine. You want to make a point by signing? Here."

He scrawled his name hastily at the bottom of the page.

He was convinced I didn't have the guts to leave the mafia's protection. In his mind, this was just a pathetic ploy for attention from his civilian wife.

"I don't believe you'd dare divorce me. If this is some little game between us, fine, I'll play along."

"I'll be back by midnight," he said, grabbing his suit jacket. "Have dinner ready."

The office door slammed shut behind him.

I gathered the signed papers and dialed a secure number on my phone.

"He signed. Julian and I are divorced," I said. "I'm formally requesting a transfer to the Valentis' German operation."