After Rebirth: I Divorced the Mafia Don

Elena

What is the first thing you would do after being reborn?

I divorced my dangerous Mafia husband.

Three days ago, I died in an ambush meant for my husband—Rafael Moretti.

The Don of the Moretti crime syndicate.

I remembered being trapped in the passenger seat, my legs crushed, my body too weak to move. I also remembered the shattered windshield, the smell of fuel, the ringing in my ears and seeing Rafael on the pavement bleeding but alive.

And then, I remembered him running past me.

Not toward me.

Toward her.

Isabella. The Consigliere’s precious daughter. His first love.

He chose to save her while his own wife burned alive in an explosion.

Five years of marriage.

Five years of obedience.

Five years of hoping he would one day look at me the way he looked at her.

Instead, I turned to ashes.

But hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

I was sent back to the year I died: the fifth year of our marriage.

I woke up in my own bed, my body intact, the calendar turned back exactly one year before the ambush.

This time, I was not going to die for him.

This time, I was going to divorce him.

“Elena, are you even listening to me?”

Isabella’s sharp voice dragged me back to the present.

“Rafael is going to be furious when he finds out you called me here,” she said coldly.

I studied her quietly. She was beautiful in a way that demanded attention, raised in power and protected by love. She was everything I had never been in Rafael’s eyes.

“He won’t care,” I replied. Too calmly. “I called you here to tell you that you won.”

Her brows furrowed. “What did you say?”

“You can have everything,” I said softly. “Rafael. The position of Donna.” I paused, my fingers curling in my lap. “And Leo.”

Saying my son’s name felt like swallowing glass.

“I’m done.”

Isabella laughed. “Is this another one of your pathetic games? Playing the pitiful wife to get his attention?” She leaned forward. “You know he only married you for your father’s shipping routes.”

“I know,” I said.

In my past life, that truth had broken me.

Now, it barely stirred my heart.

“Once the divorce papers are signed…,” I added. “I’m leaving Chicago as soon as it’s finalized.”

Before she could respond, the atmosphere shifted. Two armored black SUVs pulled to the curb, followed by a sleek Maybach. They were Moretti cars.

Four men stepped out first, they were Rafael’s elite soldiers in dark suits, cold eyes and hands resting near concealed weapons.

Then the rear door opened.

Rafael Moretti stepped out. He was tall, broad-shouldered and wrapped in Italian silk and danger. He carried authority the way other men carried breath.

Once, a single glance from him had made my heart race.

Now, all I felt was cold.

He entered the café without sparing me a look and went straight to Isabella.

“Did she bother you, cara?” he asked, his voice low as he placed a possessive hand on her shoulder.

Isabella smiled sweetly. “Elena was telling me some very interesting stories.”

Rafael scoffed. He reached into his jacket and tossed a velvet box onto the table.

“The Gold Coast penthouse you’ve been eyeing,” he said. “The deed is inside.”

It was the home he had promised me when we married. I had thought he forgot. Turns out, he had only been saving it for the woman who mattered. I laughed inside at my rotten fate.

Finally, Isabella slid a file toward him. “I’m buying property on the East Coast. I need your signature.”

“Cara mia,” he chuckled, brushing her hair affectionately. “Always naughty.”

He signed without looking. He did not even know that the papers he signed were the divorce papers.

My chest tightened, but I did not stop him. Perhaps, it was our fate.

Finally, it was over.

Goodbye, Rafael.

I stood up. He did not glance at me.

I turned toward the door when it burst open.

“Papa! Bella!”

My body froze.

Leo.

My son ran inside, his footsteps light and face bright. He didn’t look at me and ran straight into Isabella’s arms.

She hugged him, smoothing his hair and her eyes lifted to mine with quiet triumph.

See? I won.

Leo glanced in my direction, his smile vanishing. He tugged on Rafael’s sleeve. “Papa, why is that woman here? You said she wasn’t coming with us.”

The words pierced deeper than any bullet.

Rafael finally looked at me. “She isn’t coming with us, Leo,” he said. “I told you only the real family is going to movie night. Come, we’re late.”

He guided Isabella and my son toward the door, shielding them with his body.

They left together as a perfect family.

I stood alone as the engines roared outside.

I laughed softly at first, then harder tears streamed down my face.

Finally, I was no longer Don's wife. I am a free woman who will live just for herself.