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The Jilted Mafia Heiress Takes It All Novel Cover

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 5

Ava Vitiello POV

The department store rose around us like a cathedral of glass and light.

I was here for retail therapy. I was trying to buy things I didn't need in a desperate attempt to fill the gaping hole in my chest.

Maya was with me, hovering close as we browsed the designer handbags.

"Why are you doing this, Ava?" Maya asked quietly. "Why don't you just let him go?"

I traced the pebbled leather of a Birkin bag, focusing on the texture to ground myself.

"Because he humiliated me," I said. "Because he took my dignity."

I looked up, meeting her eyes.

"Liam is the disease," I said. "Sarah is just the symptom."

I looked across the expanse of the store.

At the high-jewelry counter, I saw a flash of red hair.

Sarah.

She was pointing at a watch. A Patek Philippe.

My breath hitched. It was the same model I had bought Liam for our engagement. The very same one he had pawned last week to pay his gambling debts.

She was buying it back. Or buying a new one.

I watched her hand the clerk a card. A black card.

My stomach dropped.

I knew that card. I knew the matte finish, the weight of it.

It was a supplementary card on my account. I had given it to Liam six months ago for "emergency business expenses."

I had forgotten to cancel it.

The audacity was staggering. She was buying him a gift with my money.

I started walking. My heels clicked against the marble floor like gunshots.

Maya tried to grab my arm, but I shook her off.

I reached the counter just as the clerk was about to swipe the card.

"Stop."

The clerk looked up, startled. Sarah spun around.

Her eyes went wide.

"What are you doing here?" she snapped.

I looked at the card in the clerk's hand.

"That's my card," I said to the clerk, my voice calm and deadly.

Sarah tried to snatch it back.

"It's my fiancé's card!" she screamed.

"It's in his name, but it's my account," I said. "I am Ava Vitiello."

The clerk looked at the name on the card. Then he looked at me. The color drained from his face. He recognized me. Everyone in New York recognized the Vitiello name.

"Ms... Ms. Vitiello," the clerk stammered.

"Cut it," I said.

"What?" Sarah shrieked.

I held the clerk's gaze.

"Cut the card. Now. Or I call the manager and tell him you're accepting stolen credit."

The clerk swallowed hard and picked up a pair of scissors.

"No!" Sarah lunged across the counter.

Maya stepped in, blocking her path with a sharp shove.

The clerk snipped the black plastic in half. The sound was crisp, final, and satisfying.

Sarah let out a sound like a wounded animal.

"You bitch!" she screamed. "That was five thousand dollars!"

I picked up the watch from the velvet tray.

It was heavy. It was beautiful. It was worth more than Sarah's life.

"This belongs to the Family," I said.

A crowd had gathered. People were filming with their phones.

I didn't care.

I held the watch up, letting the light catch the diamonds.

"Tell Liam happy birthday from me," I said.

I dropped the watch into my purse.

Sarah was shaking with rage. Her face was blotchy and red.

"He's going to kill you," she spat.

I smiled. It was a cold, dead smile.

"He can try," I said.

I turned and walked away.

The adrenaline was fading, leaving me empty once more. But my head was high.

I was reclaiming my assets. One by one.

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