He Chose A Fake Heiress Over His True Queen

I waited seven years for Jax Vetti, the youngest Capo in New York, to finally claim me. Instead, five minutes before our scheduled engagement, he called me a burden behind a velvet curtain.

Standing on the center stage of the Gala, he didn't reach for my hand. He took the hand of Chloe Davenport, his rival’s daughter, and announced to the underworld that she was carrying his heir.

When the explosion tore through the ballroom moments later, Jax didn't hesitate. He threw his body over Chloe, shielding her completely, and dragged her to the safe room.

I was left behind, exposed and helpless, until a massive crystal chandelier crashed down, crushing my legs and slicing my throat.

While I lay bleeding out on the cold floor, Jax returned. He looked at my shattered body not with horror, but with disgust.

"You're a liability, Savvy," he sneered, ordering his guards to dump me in the courtyard like trash so I wouldn't upset his pregnant fiancée.

I clutched the bullet casing he gave me years ago—a blood oath he swore would bind us forever. He had promised to protect me, but tonight, he stepped over my broken body to comfort the woman who was secretly plotting his demise.

His second-in-command found me before the cold took me.

"He's lost his mind," Ben whispered, scooping me up and driving me to a private jet bound for Sicily.

I didn't die that night. But the girl who loved Jax Vetti did.

Six months later, I returned from the dead. Not as his victim, but as the woman who would turn his wedding into a funeral.

Chapter 1

He called me a burden exactly five minutes before he was scheduled to put a ring on my finger.

I stood frozen behind the heavy velvet curtain of the smoking room, my hand hovering over the cold brass handle.

Inside, the air smelled of expensive cigars and the sharp, metallic tang of betrayal.

"She's a child, Ben." Jax's voice was low, a rumble that usually made my stomach flip with excitement. Now, it just curdled the champagne in my gut.

"Savvy is a relic of a past I'm trying to outgrow. She's sweet, sure. But sweet doesn't secure the southern territories."

"She worships you, Jax." Ben's voice was tighter, hesitant. "She's waited four years. You gave her your word."

"I gave her a soft 'maybe' to keep her docile," Jax scoffed. The sound of ice hitting glass echoed in the silence that followed. "I need the Davenport ports. Chloe brings me power. Savvy brings me... what? Blind loyalty? I have dogs for that."

My breath hitched in my throat.

I wasn't supposed to be here.

I was supposed to be in the ballroom, fixing my lipstick, preparing for the moment Jax Vetti, the youngest Capo in the history of the New York families, would finally claim me.

Jax was a god in this city.

He'd killed his first man at sixteen.

By twenty-five, he controlled the docks, the unions, and the police force.

He was violence wrapped in a bespoke Armani suit, a man who could snap a neck with the same hands that used to braid my hair when I was twelve.

I touched the cold metal of the necklace hidden under my dress.

It was a bullet casing.

When I was fifteen, a drive-by shooting had shattered the windows of my father's bakery.

Jax had thrown his body over mine.

He had taken a bullet to the shoulder that was meant for my head.

He gave me the casing afterwards, warm and jagged.

Keep this, he had said, blood soaking his white shirt. It's a blood oath, Savvy. As long as you have this, you're mine.

I had believed him.

On my eighteenth birthday, I confessed I loved him.

He had smirked, touched my cheek with a thumb rough from gun oil, and said, Wait until you're twenty-two. If you're still pure, maybe I'll keep you.

I had turned twenty-two yesterday.

Tonight was the Gala.

Tonight was the deadline.

I stepped back from the door, my heels silent on the plush carpet.

My chest didn't hurt.

It felt empty, hollowed out, like someone had reached inside and scooped out everything vital with a jagged spoon.

I walked back to the ballroom, my legs moving on autopilot.

The room was a sea of diamonds and black ties, a display of wealth built on blood and silence.

Omertà.

The code of silence.

Tonight, it applied to my heartbreak, too.

I took my place near the edge of the dance floor, smoothing the silk of my white dress.

I looked like a bride.

I felt like a corpse.

The double doors opened.

Jax walked in.

He was devastatingly handsome, dark hair slicked back, eyes like cold obsidian.

He owned the room.

Every man feared him.

Every woman wanted him.

I watched him, waiting for his eyes to find mine.

He scanned the crowd.

His gaze slid over me like I was part of the furniture.

He turned back to the entrance and extended his hand.

Chloe Davenport stepped into the light.

She was everything I wasn't.

Sharp, wealthy, the daughter of the rival Don.

She wore red.

The color of war.

Jax tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow and led her to the center stage.

The room went quiet.

My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic bird trapped in a cage.

"Family." Jax's voice projected without a microphone, commanding absolute attention. "Tonight, we unite North and South. I am proud to introduce my intended, Chloe Davenport."

Applause erupted.

It was a thunderous sound, drowning out the ringing in my ears.

I stood still.

Chloe looked at Jax, her hand drifting down to rest on her flat stomach.

It was a subtle gesture.

But in our world, it screamed.

She was carrying his heir.

The room buzzed with the implication.

I felt the eyes of the other women on me.

Pitying glances.

Mocking whispers.

Poor Savvy. She really thought she had a chance.

She's just a soldier's daughter. A placeholder.

I looked at Jax one last time.

He was smiling at Chloe.

Then, he looked up.

His eyes locked with mine across the crowded room.

There was no apology.

No guilt.

Just a cold, hard stare that said, Know your place.

I took a step back.

Then another.

I retreated into the shadows, the cold metal of the bullet casing burning a brand against my skin.

I wasn't part of this family anymore.

I was just a ghost haunting their celebration.

I turned to leave, desperate for air, desperate to escape the suffocating weight of my shattered life.

But I didn't make it to the door.