Regretful Don: The Queen You Threw Away

I was the Gold-Tier Fixer of the syndicate, promised to the lethal Underboss, Dante. We had bled on the same battlefields to conquer the eastern seaboard.

But ever since he took in his new mentee, Mia, I became invisible.

For three years, he canceled our Mafia Blood Oath seventeen different times to be by her side.

On our third engagement anniversary, he rushed home at noon not to see me, but to grab a bespoke diamond necklace for Mia's birthday.

When he finally returned late at night, he tossed a cheap, last-minute duplicate purse on my table.

"I need you to step down from your position as Gold-Tier Fixer and give the title to Mia," he said, his voice laced with absolute entitlement. "Let her have it."

Before I could even respond, Mia called about a minor security issue, and he immediately headed for the door, swearing we would finally take our vows the next morning.

I stared at the two identical bags sitting untouched in my closet, realizing every gift he ever gave me was thoughtless garbage compared to the treasures he showered on her.

I had spent eight years smelling of unscented soap just to please him, yet he let the heavy scent of Mia's roses soak right into his collar.

I was a fool squandering my talents on a man who had already buried our vows.

The next morning, I didn't go to the sanctuary.

I dropped my resignation papers on the Capo's desk, permanently blocked Dante's number, and boarded a one-way flight to Paris.

This time, I chose to build an empire for myself.

Chapter 1

Elena POV:

As the raw spirit burned a trail down my throat to appease a rival cartel boss, my fiancé was occupied with wiping a stray drop of claret from his new charge's lip, oblivious to the message that glowed on my hidden phone: "The Chicago Outfit is still offering double your current cut. Leave his shadow, Elena. You are squandering your talents."

The underground banquet hall was thick with cigar smoke and the heavy, sweet stench of spilled liquor.

Tonight was a high-stakes celebration for The Family.

Dante had just completed his one thousandth successful illicit smuggling flight.

He was our Underboss, a lethal enforcer whose name alone commanded fear across the eastern seaboard.

His broad shoulders filled out his tailored black suit, radiating a dangerous, masculine authority that kept every soldier in the room on edge.

Eight years ago, that same terrifying presence had saved my life.

I was a nervous rookie on my first day moving from ground logistics to the aerial smuggling crew.

I had let my highly classified clearance ledger slip from my grasp right at the security checkpoint of our private airstrip.

If the Don had found out, I would have been executed on the spot.

But Dante intervened, weaving a story to cover my mistake and shielding me from the lethal punishment of the syndicate.

That moment tied my life to his.

We bled on the same battlefields, fought for the same territory, and clawed out a dominion over the East Coast's primary smuggling routes and the warehouses groaning with their illicit contents.

We were, to the lesser syndicates, an untouchable pair, promised to each other for three years.

But tonight was also supposed to be the night we took our Mafia Blood Oath at the sanctuary.

It was the seventeenth time he had promised to finalize our vows and make me his untouchable wife.

And for the seventeenth time, he was ignoring me.

My head pounded with a severe fever, my vision swimming as a rival Capo poured me another glass of raw vodka.

I took the heat, drinking heavily to maintain the fragile peace between our families.

I looked across the long mahogany table, hoping to catch Dante's eye so he could intervene.

Dante, however, did not spare me a single glance.

He was entirely focused on Mia.

Mia was his newly inducted associate, a young woman he had taken under his wing a few months ago.

He leaned close to her, his large, scarred hands delicately cutting a piece of steak and placing it on her plate.

He kept her water glass full and her wine glass perfectly portioned.

I forced the vodka down my throat.

It felt like acid, twisting my stomach into a knot of hot iron.

Soldiers and associates lingered in the shadows near the bar, their eyes darting between me and Dante.

I could hear their hushed whispers, the soft clicks of their tongues.

They pitied me.

They knew the Gold-Tier Fixer of the syndicate was squandering her loyalty on a man who no longer saw her.

Hours later, the banquet finally ended.

The cool night air hit my face as I stepped out of the restaurant, my legs trembling from the fever and the alcohol.

I waited by his bulletproof SUV, expecting him to escort me to the sanctuary as he had sworn he would do tonight.

Dante walked out, his hand resting protectively on the small of Mia's back.

He intercepted me before I could reach the passenger door.

"Mia drank too much," he said, his voice carrying that cold, authoritative tone he usually reserved for his subordinates. "I need to personally escort her to her safehouse. You take a cab."

I stared at him, the chill of the city wind biting through my thin silk dress.

"And the sanctuary?" I asked, my voice surprisingly steady.

He waved a dismissive hand.

"It is too late for the Blood Oath. We will do it another time."

He did not wait for my response.

He turned his back on me and hurried to place Mia into the passenger seat of his vehicle.

I watched him close her door with gentle precision.

He walked around to the driver's side, got in, and started the engine.

As the SUV began to pull away, I saw Dante carefully roll up the tinted windows.

He did not want the cold wind to bother Mia.

The blood seemed to drain from my fingertips, leaving a peculiar, pins-and-needles ache as the back of my neck grew cold.

Dante had a strict rule in his car.

He despised the smell of alcohol.

Whenever I had to drink for The Family business, he forced me to ride with the windows completely down, even in the dead of winter.

I used to sit shivering in the passenger seat while he drove in silence.

I realized his strict rules only applied when it was me in the car.

I took a deep breath, the freezing air filling my lungs.

I shoved my syndicate identification badge back into my purse.

I watched the taillights of his SUV disappear into the dark, a cold clarity settling into my chest.

This was the seventeenth time he had left me standing alone.

There would not be an eighteenth.

"Alright," I said quietly to the empty street, a faint smile touching my lips. "Be careful on the road."