When I begged him with my eyes to claim me, to save me from the public humiliation, he didn't flinch. He just leaned toward his Underboss, his voice amplified by the silence.
"Karyn is for power. Ember is for pleasure. Don't confuse the assets."
My heart didn't just break; it incinerated. He expected me to stay as his mistress, threatening to dig up my dead mother's grave if I refused to play the obedient pet.
He thought I was trapped. He thought I had nowhere to go because of my father's massive gambling debts.
He was wrong.
With shaking hands, I pulled out my phone and texted the one name I was never supposed to use.
Keith Mosley. The Don. The monster under Chace's bed.
*I am invoking the Blood Oath. My father's debt. I am ready to pay it.*
His reply came three seconds later, buzzing against my palm like a warning.
*The price is marriage. You belong to me. Yes or No?*
I looked up at Chace, who was laughing with his new fiancée, thinking he owned me.
I looked down and typed three letters.
*Yes.*
Chapter 1
Ember POV
For four years, I traced the bullet scar on Chace's chest and called it a receipt for his love. I believed it was proof that he would bleed to keep me safe.
But as I stood in the center of the ballroom, drowning in the white silk gown he had ordered me to wear, watching him slide a diamond onto another woman's finger, I realized the truth.
That scar wasn't a promise. It was just a distraction while he sharpened the knife for my back.
Chace Mcfarland is a Capo. He is a man whose name opens doors and closes caskets in this city. He is the heir to an empire built on blood and silence, a predator who camouflages himself in Italian wool.
For four years, I was the civilian he protected from that world. Or so I thought.
"Happy Anniversary, baby," the text had read, glowing on my screen at 8:00 AM. "Wear white. Tonight changes everything."
I had read *changes everything* as a vow. A ring. A permanent seat at his table.
I spent the afternoon scrubbing my skin until it was raw, as if I could polish myself into something worthy of his world. I curled my hair into the soft waves he liked. I practiced the word "Yes" in the mirror until it tasted like sugar.
I looked like a bride. I felt like a queen.
Now, standing under the crushing weight of the Grand Syndicate Gala's crystal chandeliers, I feel like a lamb brought to the slaughter.
The room is choked with the scent of tuberose and dangerous men. The air is thick, vibrating with the specific kind of tension that precedes a hit-or a merger.
I spot the banner hanging above the stage before I see him. The letters are bold, black, and final.
*Mcfarland & Warren Alliance.*
My breath hitches, trapped in a throat suddenly too tight to swallow.
Chace stands on the dais. He looks devastatingly handsome in his tuxedo, the harsh stage lights catching the sharp, predatory angle of his jaw.
But he isn't looking at me.
He is looking at Karyn Warren.
Karyn is the daughter of a rival family. She is sleek, sharp, and cruel-a Mafia Princess raised to wield power like a whip, while I was raised to be polite.
"To the future," Chace says. His voice is amplified by the microphone, booming through the silence like a gavel. "And to the union of our families."
He pulls a velvet box from his pocket.
It isn't just any ring. It is his mother's ring. The sapphire setting he told me was too fragile to wear, the heirloom he swore he was saving for the right moment.
He lied. It wasn't too fragile. I was just too temporary.
He slides it onto Karyn's finger.
The room erupts in applause. The sound is deafening, a firing squad of clapping hands.
I stand frozen, a ghost haunting her own funeral.
Chace descends the stairs with Karyn on his arm. They move like royalty, shark-like and smooth. When they reach the bottom, his eyes finally lock onto mine.
There is no guilt in them. Only a cold, calculated warning.
He steers Karyn toward me. The crowd parts, sensing blood.
"Karyn," Chace says, his voice smooth, stripped of the warmth he used to pour into my ear. "I want you to meet Ember Ford. She's a very close... family friend."
*Family friend.*
The words strip the skin from my bones. Four years of sleeping in his bed, of tending his wounds, of loving him when he was unlovable. Reduced to a footnote.
Karyn's lips curl into a smirk that doesn't reach her dead eyes. She knows. Everyone in this room knows.
"Ember," she says, tasting my name like cheap wine she intends to spit out on the carpet. "Chace has told me so much about you. He says you're very... accommodating."
She leans in, her diamond earrings catching the light, blinding me.
"I accept the arrangement," she whispers, low enough that the humiliation is ours alone. "Every King needs a peasant to warm his bed when the Queen is busy. You can stay, little bird. Just keep your singing to a whisper."
My stomach turns, acid rising in my throat.
I look at Chace. I beg him with my eyes to say something. To claim me. To tell her she's wrong.
He leans toward his Underboss, not bothering to lower his voice. "Karyn is for power. Ember is for pleasure. Don't confuse the assets."
Something inside me snaps. It isn't a loud break. It is the quiet, final sound of a spine stiffening into steel.
I am not an asset.
I reach into my clutch and pull out my phone. My hands are shaking, but my resolve is iron.
There is one name stored in my contacts that I was never supposed to use. A ghost from my father's gambling debts. A monster that makes men like Chace check under their beds.
*Mr. Mosley.*
Keith Mosley. The Don. The Boogeyman.
I type the message, my thumbs moving over the glass.
*I am invoking the Blood Oath. My father's debt. I am ready to pay it.*
I hit send.
I don't expect an answer. Not immediately. Men like Keith Mosley don't text back. They send hitmen.
But the phone buzzes in my palm three seconds later.
*The price is marriage. You belong to me. Yes or No?*
I look up. Chace is laughing at something Karyn said, his hand resting possessively on the small of her back. He looks happy. He looks like a stranger who stole four years of my life.
I look down at the screen.
I can be the mistress of a traitor, or the wife of a monster.
I type three letters.
*Yes.*
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