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Pampered By The Rival Mafia Boss Novel Cover

Pampered By The Rival Mafia Boss

Ten years ago, I saved the life of New York’s most dangerous mob boss with a sewing kit. I gave Ethan Reed my youth, my loyalty, and my heart. But the moment his ex-girlfriend Chloe returned, I became disposable. It didn't matter that she had abandoned him. It didn't matter that she poisoned me, killing the unborn child Ethan didn't even know we had. When Chloe needed a kidney transplant due to her drug abuse, Ethan didn't protect me. He strapped me to a gurney. "It's just one kidney, Ava. You owe me." He harvested my organ to save the woman who murdered his heir. And when he was done, he decided I was a loose end. He dragged me to the edge of a bridge in the pouring rain. "This is how it ends," he said, his eyes devoid of love. "A tragic suicide." He pushed me into the freezing water, watching me drown to secure his happy ending. He thought I was dead. He thought the canary had sung its last song. But he forgot one thing. I was the chemist who built his empire. When his greatest rival pulled me out of the river, I didn't pray for salvation. I prayed for revenge. Three months later, I walked into his charity gala on the arm of his enemy, wearing a white suit and a smile sharp enough to cut glass. Ethan dropped to his knees when he saw me. But I wasn't there to forgive him. I was there to burn his house down.
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Chapter 4

Ava POV

The Hampton estate was a sprawling fortress of glass and light, perched on the edge of the Atlantic like a stolen crown jewel.

Tonight, however, it was infested. Filled with the sharks of the underworld.

The "Sit-down" was supposed to be a formality. A gathering of the Five Families to reaffirm alliances. But as I walked through the gilded doors, it felt like a funeral.

My funeral.

I stood next to Ethan, wearing a black velvet gown chosen specifically to hide the bruising on my arms from the IVs. I felt hollowed out, a shell of a woman held together by hairspray, sheer will, and hatred.

Ethan looked devastating in his tuxedo. He was charming the Don of the Moretti family, laughing as if he hadn't spent the last week ignoring my existence.

"You look beautiful," he whispered, leaning in to graze my cheek with his lips. It was a performance. We were on stage, and the audience was deadly.

He reached into his pocket. "I forgot to give you this earlier."

He pinned a brooch onto my dress. It was the Reed family crest, encrusted in sapphires. It was heavy, dragging down the delicate fabric like a shackle.

"Wear it with pride," he said, his voice low. "It shows you belong to me."

Not a ring. A brand. A tag on a piece of livestock.

Before I could answer, the music swelled. The crowd parted.

And there she was.

Chloe descended the grand staircase in a dress the color of fresh arterial blood. It was strapless, tight, and screamed for attention. She wasn't walking; she was prowling.

She carved a path straight to us. The chatter in the room died down to a suffocating hush.

"Ethan," she purred, sliding her arm through his, effectively pushing me aside physically and metaphorically.

Ethan didn't pull away. He looked at her with a mixture of lust and protectiveness that made my stomach turn.

Then, Chloe turned to the room, raising a glass of champagne high in the air.

"I have an announcement!" she chirped, her voice carrying over the silence. "Ethan and I have decided... we're getting married!"

The room exploded. Gasps, whispers, the clinking of glasses.

I froze. My legs felt like they were encased in concrete. The air left my lungs.

Ethan looked surprised for a fraction of a second. But then he looked at Chloe's beaming face, looked at the crowd waiting for his reaction... and he smiled.

A cold, calculated smile.

He squeezed her hand. He accepted it. He validated her lie and made it truth.

He didn't look at me. Not once.

I was standing three feet away, the woman who had saved his life, the woman who had just lost his child, and I was invisible.

The humiliation was a physical heat, burning up my neck. Everyone was looking at me now. The Capos, the wives, the rivals. They were looking at the Canary who had just been replaced by a vulture.

Ben Carter stepped forward from the crowd, his face twisted in worry. He reached for my arm. "Ava, let's go outside."

"No," I whispered, my voice trembling.

Chloe turned to me. Her eyes were bright with malice.

"Oh, Ava," she said, her voice dripping with fake sympathy. "This must be so hard for you. But you understand, don't you? Family comes first."

She reached out and plucked the sapphire brooch from my dress.

The pin snagged, tearing the velvet.

"I'll take that," she said. "It's for the Lady of the house. And you... well, you're just the help, aren't you?"

She handed the brooch to a nearby guard, wrinkling her nose. "Clean it. It smells like chemicals."

That broke me.

The grief, the rage, the pain-it all snapped.

"You bitch!" I screamed.

I lunged at her. I didn't have a plan. I just wanted to wipe that smirk off her face. I wanted to hurt her like she hurt me.

My fingers grazed her arm.

Then, a force like a freight train hit me.

Ethan shoved me.

He didn't just block me. He shoved me hard.

I flew backward. My heels slipped on the polished marble. I crashed into a waiter carrying a tray of champagne flutes.

Glass shattered. I hit the floor hard, my hip slamming against the stone. Shards of crystal sliced into my palms and my bare back.

"Ava!" Ben shouted, trying to rush to me.

But Ethan stood over me, his face twisted in a snarl I had never seen directed at me.

"Control yourself!" he roared. "You're embarrassing me!"

He looked at Chloe, checking her for injuries she didn't have. "Are you okay, my love?"

"She tried to kill me!" Chloe sobbed, burying her face in his chest. "She's crazy, Ethan! She's jealous and crazy!"

I lay on the floor, wet with champagne and my own blood. The pain in my hip was blinding, but the pain in my chest was worse.

He pushed me. To protect her.

Ethan looked down at me one last time. His eyes were cold. Empty.

"Get her out of here," he commanded the guards. "And don't let her back in until she sobers up."

He turned his back on me. He wrapped his arm around Chloe's waist and led her into the ballroom, leaving me amidst the broken glass.

Chloe looked back over her shoulder. She winked.

A pure, unadulterated wink.

You lose, her eyes said.

The music started up again. The crowd turned away, uncomfortable with the mess.

I tried to stand, but my legs wouldn't work. I was shaking uncontrollably.

I looked at the blood on my hands. It mixed with the sparkling wine, creating a pale pink puddle.

My Omertà died on that floor.

I grabbed a jagged piece of glass, squeezing it until it cut into my palm, grounding me in the sharp reality of hate.

I wasn't going to cry. I wasn't going to beg.

I was going to make them pay. Every single one of them.

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