The Jilted Mafia Heiress Takes It All
I stood at the altar of St. Patrick's Cathedral, the daughter of New York’s most feared Don, ready to lower myself to marry a common soldier.
Then, a toddler in the front pew shrieked, "Daddy."
Liam didn't squeeze my hand for reassurance. He dropped it like it was a branding iron. In front of five hundred of the criminal elite, he ran down the aisle, scooping up his secret child and the mistress who had been blackmailing him.
He left me standing there, humiliated and alone.
Three months later, the "Jilted Princess" title still clung to me. Yet, Liam had the audacity to bring her to my father's birthday gala.
Sarah, wearing a dress far too tight and a smug smile, cornered me in the middle of the ballroom. She wanted to twist the knife.
"He hates you, you know," she screamed, loud enough for the Dons and Capos to hear. "He says sleeping with you was like sleeping with a statue. He chose real love! He chose a family!"
The room went deathly silent. Liam looked at me with pity, thinking he had won. He thought I was broken. He thought I was alone.
I took a slow sip of my champagne and set the glass down.
"I am not alone, Sarah," I said calmly.
I turned toward the shadows near the entrance.
"Ethan?" I called out.
The crowd parted instantly for the scarred, lethal man who stepped forward—The Ghost of Chicago, the most feared Underboss in Europe.
He walked over and wrapped a heavy, possessive arm around my waist.
"I’d like you to meet my husband," I told a horrified Liam. "And our daughter is waiting upstairs."
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Chapter 3
Ava Vitiello POV
The penthouse smelled like him.
It was a rich blend of cedar and expensive cologne, a scent that used to make my knees weak. Now, it just made me sick to my stomach.
I was there to pack. I was exorcising him from my life, one box at a time.
Maya, the wife of one of my father's soldiers and my only real friend, was helping me. We were shoving his clothes into garbage bags without mercy.
The elevator chimed.
I stiffened.
Liam walked in. He stopped dead the moment he saw us.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
He looked around the living room with growing confusion. The photos were gone from the walls. The shelves were empty.
"I'm taking back what's mine," I said.
I folded a silk shirt—one I had bought him in Milan—and dropped it into the trash bag.
"This is my apartment," Liam said, his voice hardening as he walked further into the room.
"No," I said. "The Family pays the lease. The Family pays for the utilities. The Family pays for the air you breathe, Liam. And I am the Family."
Maya stepped forward, blocking his path.
"You need to leave, Liam," she said.
He ignored her. He walked right up to me.
He grabbed my wrist.
His grip was familiar. It was the grip of a man who thought he still owned me.
"Stop it, Ava," he hissed. "You're being childish."
I looked at his hand on my arm.
Three months ago, that touch would have melted me. Now, it felt like a shackle.
"I have a child, Ava," he said, his voice cracking. "You don't understand blood. You don't understand what a man will do for his own flesh and blood."
I looked up at him.
"I understand blood, Liam," I said coldly. "My blood is royal. Yours is common."
I ripped my arm away.
The sound of my palm hitting his cheek echoed through the empty apartment.
It was a slap that would have gotten anyone else killed. You don't touch a Made Man.
But he wasn't a man to me anymore.
He stumbled back, holding his cheek. He looked at me with utter shock.
"You coward," I whispered.
I stepped into his space.
"You didn't choose her because of blood," I said. "You chose her because she was easy. You chose her because she doesn't challenge you. You chose her because with me, you always felt like the soldier you are."
His eyes narrowed. He raised a hand.
"Do it," I challenged him. "Hit me."
I stared him down.
"Hit the Don's daughter, Liam. See what happens."
He lowered his hand. He was shaking.
"You're a monster," he said.
"No," I said. "I'm a Vitiello. You made me this way."
I pointed to the door.
"Get out."
He didn't move.
"I said get out!" I screamed.
He flinched. He turned and walked to the door.
He paused with his hand on the handle.
"I loved you, Ava," he said softly.
I picked up a vase—a wedding gift from his mother—and hurled it at the door.
It shattered inches from his head.
He scrambled out, slamming the door behind him.
I stood in the silence, breathing hard.
Maya walked over and put a hand on my shoulder.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
I looked at the shattered glass on the floor.
"I promised him I would burn his legitimate businesses to the ground," I said.
I looked at Maya. My eyes were dry.
"He is no longer protected, Maya. Tell the boys. It's open season."
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