His Mafia Betrayal, My Unwanted Heir.

Isobel Stout POV

The crystal chandeliers of the Pierre Hotel’s grand ballroom glittered like diamonds, casting a fractured light over the hundreds of guests below. To anyone else, this was the wedding of the season—a union between the Stout and Costa families, solidifying territories and trade routes. To me, it was a desecration.

My father, Elroy Stout, a Caporegime who valued profit over loyalty, had chosen to marry Janiyah Costa on the tenth anniversary of my mother’s death.

I stood in the shadow of a marble pillar, clutching a glass of champagne I had no intention of drinking. My fingers drifted to my throat, tracing the cool metal of the sapphire pendant resting there. It was the last thing my mother had given me before the cancer took her, a piece of her soul I carried against my skin.

"Isobel."

The voice was like silk wrapped around a razor blade. I stiffened as Janiyah approached. She was a vision in white lace and malicious intent, her dark eyes scanning me with a predator’s hunger. She was only five years older than me, a trophy wife hungry for power.

"You look... somber," Janiyah purred, stopping close enough that her cloying perfume choked the air between us. "It’s a celebration, darling. Smile."

"I’m saving my smiles for a worthy occasion," I replied, my voice tight.

Janiyah’s perfectly painted lips twitched. Her gaze dropped to my neck. "That necklace. It’s a bit dated for a girl your age, don’t you think? It clashes with your dress. It would look much better as an accessory to my bouquet."

She held out a manicured hand. "Give it to me."

My blood ran cold. "This belonged to my mother. I will never take it off."

"Your mother is dead," she said dismissively, her voice raising just enough to draw the attention of the nearby guests. "And I am the new mistress of this family. Disobedience is ugly, Isobel."

"No."

The smile vanished from her face. She didn't argue. She simply flicked her gaze to the hulking brute standing a few feet away—one of her family’s enforcers, now part of her dowry.

Before I could react, a heavy hand clamped onto my shoulder. The force was overwhelming. I was shoved down, my knees slamming painfully onto the plush carpet. A gasp rippled through the crowd, but no one moved. Not the soldiers, not the other Capos. Not my father, who was laughing on the other side of the room, oblivious or indifferent.

"Take it," Janiyah commanded.

I clawed at the enforcer’s hands, but he was a wall of muscle. He grabbed the delicate chain and yanked. Metal bit into my skin, snapping with a sharp *ping*.

"Stop! Leave her alone!"

The desperate cry came from Arlene. My mother’s maid, the woman who had raised me when my father was too busy counting money, rushed forward. Her gray hair was disheveled, her face pale with terror.

She grabbed the enforcer’s arm, a futile attempt to protect me.

"Get off her!" Arlene screamed.

The enforcer didn't even look at her. He simply lashed out with his leg, a brutal, efficient kick to her stomach. Arlene flew backward. Her head cracked against the base of the marble pillar with a sickening thud.

"Arlene!" I screamed, trying to scramble toward her, but the enforcer’s boot pressed into my spine, pinning me to the floor.

Arlene slumped against the stone, a trickle of dark blood snaking down her temple. She blinked sluggishly, her eyes unfocused.

Janiyah took the necklace from the enforcer. She held the sapphire up to the light, inspecting it with a sneer.

"Cheap," she pronounced. "Just like the woman who wore it."

With a flick of her wrist, she threw the necklace onto the marble floor. The sapphire shattered on impact, blue shards scattering like frozen tears.

I stopped struggling. The air left my lungs.

Janiyah stepped forward. She placed the heel of her white satin pump directly onto my hand as I reached for the fragments. She pressed down, her weight driving the broken gems and the hard floor into my flesh.

I bit my lip until I tasted copper, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a scream.

"Learn your place, Isobel," she whispered, leaning down so only I could hear. "And learn respect. The dead don't rule this house anymore."

She lifted her foot and walked away, signaling the band to resume playing. The music swelled, drowning out the sound of my heart breaking.

I crawled over to Arlene, my hand throbbing, my soul cold. As I looked at the blood on the floor and the shattered remnants of my mother’s legacy, the grief finally receded. In its place, something dark and jagged began to take root.

They wanted a monster? I would find them one. Even if I had to burn myself to ash to do it.