Contract Marriage With The Ruthless Mafia King

Clara POV:

“Bang!” The bullet from my Mafia Godfather husband pierced right between my eyes.

For ten years, I acted as his human shield—drinking poison, dodging snipers, and clearing his enemies. Yet, exactly three days after taking the throne, he executed me like trash just to make room for his true love!

When I opened my eyes, I was back at age twenty-two, the day of our arranged marriages.

My sister, also reborn, violently ripped the sapphire pendant from my neck—the very token that had caught that bastard's eye in my past life.

"I'm marrying Kingston! You can have that cold-blooded monster and his three feral mutts!" she sneered, drunk on her own perceived brilliance.

She thought she was stealing the ticket to ultimate power, dumping the doomed Underboss—who would be paralyzed in just one month—onto me.

I lowered my head, biting my lip to keep from laughing out loud.

Go ahead, sister. Enjoy your ten-year descent into a man-eating hell.

As for me? I happily married into the Russo Syndicate—the most violent, fiercely loyal mafia family in New York.

My cold, ruthless husband tossed me a warning on our wedding night: "This is a transaction. Play the quiet vase. I won't touch you, and I'm sleeping in the study."

I backed him into a corner, my voice a lethal whisper. "Step one foot outside this room and undermine my authority, and I'll drag you to hell with me."

The next morning, I faked a "passionate hickey" to manipulate the terrifying Mafia Matriarch. I tamed his most volatile teenage enforcer-son with a pair of custom tactical boots. And when a lazy nanny dared to starve his sickly youngest boy, I served her a cold-blooded "shattered kneecaps" ultimatum.

In just three days, the terrifying Underboss realized he hadn't married a pathetic, debt-paying pawn. He had unknowingly brought a lethal warlord into his fortress.

Late at night, the ruthless tyrant of the underworld silently carried his pillow back into my bedroom, settling onto the sofa.

"Who exactly are you?" he growled in the dark, his icy eyes now burning with a dangerous, predatory fascination.

I smirked. Who am I? I am the Queen who will take over your empire.

And the game... has just begun.

——

New York. Calhoun Manor.

"Give me that necklace, Clara!" A shrill, imperious voice shattered the morning silence.

My eyes snapped open. Before I could even catch my breath, my older sister, Janeen, lunged at me. Her perfectly manicured nails clawed at my throat as she yanked the antique sapphire pendant right off my neck.

Janeen held it up to the light, the deep blue stone catching the early morning sun. Her lips curled in disgust.

"Hideous, honestly," she muttered. She paused, flipping the pendant over in her palm. A bizarre, knowing smirk twisted her lips. "But... it might just come in handy later."

The words hit me like a bucket of ice water. The blood in my veins ran cold.

In that heart-stopping moment, I realized the truth: Janeen had been reborn, just like me.

In our past life, this very pendant had sealed my fate. The Calhoun family, desperate to claw their way back into high society, had dressed me up as a pretty vase and paraded me at the Whitney Family’s annual charity gala. That was where Kingston Whitney—the heir apparent of the Whitney Family, a man the entire East Coast underworld watched with bated breath—noticed the sapphire resting against my collarbone.

In that split second, he chose me to be his wife. I was given no right to refuse.

To the rest of the world, of course, becoming Kingston Whitney’s wife was the ultimate honor.

Meanwhile, Janeen was married off to Eliga Russo, the notorious Underboss of the Russo Family.

On their wedding night, he abandoned her in the bridal suite, turning her into the laughingstock of the syndicate. A month later, after attending a high-level mafia summit in Atlantic City, Eliga was ambushed. The bullets meant to kill him shattered his legs instead. He survived, but he would never walk again.

Trapped in a marriage with a disabled man she despised, Janeen had nowhere to vent her bitter resentment. She turned her cruelty on his three adopted sons. Less than a year later, Eliga Russo kicked her to the curb. She eventually died alone and destitute in a cheap rental room in Queens.

Now, given a second chance at life, she was trying to steal my marriage.

Later that evening, before I even reached the living room doors, Janeen’s voice drifted down the hallway.

"Mother, I refuse to marry Eliga Russo. I am going to marry Kingston Whitney!"

My stepmother, Miriam Calhoun, sighed heavily. "Janeen, have you lost your mind? Kingston Whitney already has a fiancée. And the alliance with the Russos is set in stone."

Janeen scoffed. "Eliga Russo is practically a monk. And those three boys of his? They aren't even his own flesh and blood—they belong to one of his dead enforcers. Do you know what marrying him means? It means playing mother to three mutts!"

Her voice grew sharp with irritation. "The blood pact with the Russo Family only states they want a Calhoun daughter. It doesn't specify which one. Let Clara marry him. She’s perfect for it—quiet, painfully boring, practically invisible. Let her go play house with that cold-blooded mobster and his three little monsters. It’s about the only thing she’s good for anyway."

I stepped into the living room, carefully keeping my expression blank. The helpless, doting look on Miriam’s face—reserved only for her biological daughter—vanished the second she saw me. She shot me a look of icy disdain.

"Clara. Since your sister is being generous enough to yield this marriage to you, you will marry into the Russo family tomorrow."

Janeen stepped forward, her smile as sharp as broken glass. "Exactly. I’m giving you a better home, Clara. You should be thanking me. A girl with zero presence and no backing like you could never hook a husband like Eliga Russo on your own."

I let her insults wash over me. I allowed my shoulders to slump inward, forcing my lower lip to tremble just a fraction.

"Marrying into the Russo Family is an honor," Janeen continued, increasingly intoxicated by her own performance. "Sure, you’ll have to be a stepmother to three boys. But honestly? You’re so invisible, you’ll blend right into the wallpaper. They probably won’t even notice you’re there."

I raised my eyes, letting tears pool in them, shimmering with perfect, pathetic vulnerability.

"I... I am so grateful to Janeen," I said softly. "Thank you for thinking of me. I will do everything in my power to bring honor to our family."

Janeen’s smirk widened triumphantly.

I obediently lowered my head, finally allowing a dark, chilling sneer to tug at the corner of my lips.

She had no idea. The path of Kingston’s wife was a death trap disguised in the glamorous robes of high society.

Kingston had never loved me. He didn’t even love his fiancée. He only married me to use me as a human shield for his true love—to make me the walking target for every jealous mistress and rival syndicate. Stalkers, poisoned drinks, sniper bullets in the dead of night... For ten years of marriage, I survived on a knife's edge, blocking fatal threats and eliminating all his enemies and admirers.

And yet, just three days after he ascended to the throne as the Godfather of the Whitney Family, he personally put a bullet between my eyes, safely clearing the way for the only woman he ever cared about to take her place at his side as the true mistress of the Whitney Family.

Since Janeen was in such a rush to walk into that man-eating hell, I was more than happy to hold the door open for her.

My past life of surviving in the crossfires had equipped me with a lethal skillset and invaluable intel. I knew exactly who orchestrated the hit on Eliga Russo. And I knew exactly how to stop it.

A husband who wouldn't mess around outside. Three adopted sons haunted by their own demons—but with the right guidance, they could be molded into formidable men.

Rumor had it that the Russo Family forged their infamous reputation in the underworld through sheer violence and bloodshed, rising as an up-and-coming mafia syndicate second only to the Whitneys. But my past life had taught me the truth: they were nothing like the Whitney Family, who hid their treacherous, venomous cruelty behind a mask of high-society hypocrisy. The Russos possessed a deep-rooted loyalty, a fierce territorial instinct, and an absolute determination to protect their own to the death—qualities that had ultimately earned my deepest respect.

Janeen failed to survive that marriage because she was lazy, cruel, and stupid.

But I wouldn't make the same mistakes.

This time, I will not be a pawn.

I will be the Queen.