Betrayed by the Godfather,Reborn as the Supreme Heiress

My best friend, Mia Collinson, was complaining to me yet again about how rough and relentless her fiancé was in bed. I half-listened, absentmindedly wiping down the custom Browning pistol my husband, Darien Allerton, had recently given me. A few years back, as the ruthless head of the Allerton family, Darien had been ambushed by a rival crew during a shootout. They'd injected him with a hallucinogenic aphrodisiac, leaving him with psychological trauma that made him incapable of being intimate with women. Still, for the past five years, he had treated me like a queen. He gave me Sicilian estates, garages packed with bulletproof supercars, and rare pink diamonds paid for in blood. Even when an ocean separated us, he would fight through the jet lag and the brutality of his daily life to show up at my safe house in the middle of the night, holding me tight while he slept. I thought it was proof of his unwavering devotion in our chaotic world. Up until the day of Mia's massive mafia wedding. I'd brought her a ten-carat blue diamond as a gift, hoping to surprise her. But the second I pushed open the door to the church dressing room, my smile vanished. The man inside wasn't the groom. It was Darien. Chapter 1 He stood with his back to the mirror, buttoning up his tailored suit. I couldn't mistake him for anyone else—not with the black onyx signet ring on his finger, the one marking him as the head of the family. Cory asked, our mutual friend and the family's advisor. His voice was a harsh whisper. "Darien, have you lost your mind?" "You and Mia are taking your vows today." "If Laurel finds out back home, she is not going to let this go." Darien paused on his tie for a fraction of a second. A flash of deep, suppressed pain crossed his usually ruthless eyes, but his voice was ice. "Cut off all communication with her country and block the flight routes." "As long as I keep my mouth shut, she stays my wife inside the safe zone I built for her." Cory pressed. "And how are you going to explain this to her?" "Your five-year marriage—" Darien cut in, dropping his gaze. His tone was restrained, but brutal. "Isn't legally binding." "My marriage certificate with Laurel is a fake." "If the family elders find out her true background, they'll reject her." "That forged piece of paper is the only thing keeping her alive." Out in the hall, I leaned back against the cold stone wall and dug my nails into my palms. I didn't cry. I calmly wiped the blood from my fingertips. A forged marriage certificate. He hadn't kept me in a controlled, safe environment for the last five years out of some undying loyalty. He'd fed me lies to keep me shut out of his inner circle of power. Darien's voice drifted through the crack in the door, suddenly sounding tired and hoarse. "When I was drugged back then, I accidentally slept with Mia, and she had my son." "The Allerton family cannot leave its only heir unprotected outside the family, and we can't let him carry the stigma of being an illegitimate child." I tossed the blue diamond ring into a nearby trash can, my expression turning to ice. In the mafia, bloodlines and business will always trump love. A sharp, physical pain seized my chest. I was about to walk away when I heard Cory ask. "Then what about Laurel?" Darien scoffed. "I found out the truth." "Mia is the real heir to the Bendall family." "Laurel is the daughter of a human trafficker, swapped out by our enemies years ago." "If I didn't still care about our history, do you think I'd have risked a war between our two families to hide this for so long?" "The only thing I feel for her now is an obligation to keep her safe." The words shocked my system, wiping out whatever lingering affection I had left for him. The daughter of a human trafficker. A stolen life. I turned away from the cathedral. Behind me, the heavy bells tolled, sealing the priest's final pronouncement of their marriage. Years ago, at our own wedding, Darien's father had swapped out the bride for political gain. Darien had put a gun to his own father's head and crossed the globe, bleeding heavily, to get me back. Today had all the same trappings: the million-dollar bulletproof motorcade, the same Gothic church. Only this time, to secure his leadership and his bloodline, he was the one cutting me out of his life. The encrypted phone in my pocket buzzed. It was a final warning from my mother, Natalie Bendall. "Laurel, hand over the family crest." "Mia is my biological daughter, and she wants you to go back to the slums where your real parents live." I stared at the screen, my face deadpan. Then, I quietly loaded my gun. Since this syndicate respects nothing but survival, I didn't mind showing them what I'd learned over the last five years. I leaned back against a carved stone pillar in the shadows, locking a cold, hard stare on the altar. Darien slid the diamond ring—the mark of the godfather's wife—onto Mia's finger. Catching sight of me in his periphery, he froze. Leaving Mia with his bodyguards, he strode down the steps and yanked me into an empty confessional booth. He said, his tall frame blocking my exit. He was trying to bury the storm of emotions in his dark eyes. "Laurel, don't get the wrong idea." "The council wants to trade Mia to the Russian godfather, and you know how brutal he is." "I married her to stop the Russians from expanding, and to protect—" I cut in, slicing through his rehearsed bullshit about mafia politics. "To protect your kid, right?" Watching him protect Mia in public made the last five years feel like a sick joke. All those nights he had refused to lay a hand on me, claiming he was working through his trauma. I didn't break down crying. I looked up at him, calm. "Darien, all those nights you couldn't bear to touch me... was it the trauma?" "Or were you already sleeping with her, and I was in the way?" Darien's eyes went wide, his jaw clenching. He reached out to touch my face. "Laurel, I—" "Bitch!" "Don't touch my dad!" A four-year-old boy burst through the door and shoved me backward. I stumbled on a loose bullet casing left on the floor. I pitched back, my head cracking against the sharp edge of the stained-glass windowsill, and warm blood streamed down my face. Instinct made Darien reach out to catch me. But when the boy hit the floor crying, Darien froze mid-reach. He pulled the kid into his arms instead. He looked up at the blood dripping down my face, torn, yet his voice was serious. "Laurel, drop the attitude." "He's a child." That sentence made his priorities clear. I wiped the blood from my brow, pulled out the encrypted phone, and texted Natalie back. "Understood." "I'll surrender all territories and arsenal passwords within a week, and remove myself from the syndicate." Chapter 2 Drawn by the commotion, Mia burst into the room. Spotting her son on the floor, she stepped in front of Darien, shielding the boy. When she caught my deadpan stare, a flicker of guilt crossed her face, but it vanished in a second, swallowed up by jealousy and resentment. Mia gritted her teeth, dropping the act. "Stop looking at me like you're superior, Laurel!" "If you hadn't stolen my identity, I would've been the one under the Godfather's protection for the last five years!" "My son wouldn't have had to hide out in Sicilian basements like some dirty secret!" "You took the husband that was meant for me, and you took my place as the Bendall heiress." "Where do you get off acting self-righteous?" Darien scowled, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. He knew what I was capable of. It was a warning, but it was also his way of keeping her safe. "Mia, shut up." "Don't provoke her." Mia's eyes welled with angry tears. She spun on her heel and stormed out the door, her bodyguards trailing behind. "Why should I shut up?" "I'm taking back everything that's mine!" That left the two of us in the confessional. Darien swallowed hard. He stared at my bloody face, his voice tight and hoarse. "Laurel, it's a mess right now." "I need to stabilize both factions first." "Let me handle this..." I wiped the blood from my fingertips, not bothering to give him a second look. I said, my voice flat. "Go." "Your heir needs a father, and your bride needs her groom." I closed my eyes and swallowed back the metallic taste of blood rising in my throat. In the twenty-odd years I'd spent as a Bendall, Natalie hadn't shown me a single ounce of affection. At seventeen, I was tossed into the underground fighting rings of Sicily, breaking bones to earn my first handgun. I ran the family's deadliest weapon shipments and risked my neck in brutal shootouts to buy my way to the negotiating table. That was why, from the moment I met Mia, I'd done everything I could to support her financially, hoping she'd get to live the life she wanted. I figured I'd spend my life as a cold-blooded killer—until Darien showed up. I used to think he was my savior. Now, he was the reason I was shattered. I slipped out through the church's hidden side door, only to lock eyes with Natalie. Her stare was ice. "Mother, you—" She snapped. She brushed past me and headed across the street. Over there, Mia was sobbing into Darien's chest. He cradled the back of her head, murmuring something soft and comforting. "Stop calling me that." "You don't have the right." It was the same way he'd held me years ago after a firefight, swearing he'd spend the rest of his life protecting me. The encrypted sat-phone in my pocket buzzed. "Ms. Bendall, our informants tracked down your biological parents in the Naples slums." "We need you to send over a blood sample for the final DNA match." "Understood." "I'll get it done." I hung up as the biting wind cut through my coat. Darien jogged up from behind and grabbed my wrist. Out of habit, his warm fingertips brushed against my pulse point. His dark eyes were a mess of conflict. "Laurel, even if your identity has changed, your place in my heart hasn't." "Tomorrow is the Bendall family's transition meeting, and Mia doesn't have any footing here yet." "I need you to show up and use your authority to keep the more violent guys in line for her." Looking at that torn, affectionate expression on his face, I might have caved—if I didn't know our marriage certificate was a fake. Instead, I pulled my hand free and watched Mia hurry over to fist her hand in the fabric of his shirt. I said, a cold smile touching my lips. "Fine." "I'll do it." I had no problem walking away from power that was never mine. It was the day of the leadership transition. Everyone in the syndicate was waiting to watch me—their former ruthless assassin—fall from grace. But at the last second of the countdown, the transfer-of-power document vanished from the main screen. A classified video popped up in its place. It was footage of Mia from when she was captured by the rival Russian syndicate. Kneeling in the dirt, sobbing and begging for her life, she caved and gave up our family's shipping routes. In our world, weakness and betrayal meant an automatic death sentence. Mia burst into tears. "Laurel, you faked this!" "You're jealous I had Darien's son, and you're trying to get me killed!" "Darien, you know I wouldn't do this, right?" He hesitated. He shot me a brief, pained look but kept his mouth shut, silently taking her side. The room erupted. The syndicate elders drew their weapons, aimed straight at me. "Laurel set it up!" "She framed Mia to hold onto her power!" "Vicious bitch!" "Kill her and purge her from the family!" Pandemonium broke out. Chapter 3 Mia clutched her head and screamed, pointing a trembling finger at me through her tears. "Laurel, I never wanted your spot!" "Why are you trying to kill me?" I went for my gun to fire a warning shot and get the room under control, but a barrage of glass bottles and heavy objects started raining down on me. Through the chaos, I saw Darien draw his weapon. Pulling Mia tight against his chest, he backed toward the emergency exit, shielded by his personal guards. I yelled on instinct. "I didn't do it!" "Darien—" He glanced back at me once. His face was twisted with shock and disappointment. Then, someone shoved me hard from behind. My foot caught empty air, and I plummeted off the six-foot platform. I felt the stomach-dropping fall before I crashed into the angry mob below. My vision went dark, leaving me with nothing but the blinding pain of the impact and the roar of people cursing my name. When I came to, the air was thick with the stench of blood and mold. I was down in the flooded underground cell the Allerton family used for interrogating traitors. Harsh spotlights beat down on me. I was strung up from a cold concrete pillar, held there by heavy, crude handcuffs. A masked man in a long black cloak stepped forward, his tall frame half-hidden in the shadows. He said. His voice was low, warped by an electronic modulator. "The Godfather sent me to question you." I forced my head up. He tucked his hand back under his cloak, but not before I caught the flash of a black onyx ring. Even without the ring, I would have recognized Darien in a heartbeat. A bitter realization washed over me, and whatever lingering affection I still had for him died. He held a cigar between his fingers, the ember glowing on and off in the dim light. His tone was flat and absolute. "You did it." I told him. My eyes watered, and even though my voice was hoarse, I held my ground. "I didn't." "If I wanted to ruin her, I'd never stoop to some cheap stunt like leaking a video." Darien glared at me, his eyes burning with fury, and snapped an order. "Open the valves." Guards dumped freezing, muddy water over my head. The dignity I had carefully built—the same dignity that commanded respect from crime bosses at the negotiating table—was washed away. I yelled through clenched teeth. "Are you out of your mind?" "I have proof it wasn't me!" Darien grabbed my jaw, squeezing hard enough that pain flared through my skull. "Mia had a mental breakdown." "She nearly jumped off the roof of the manor." "She survived twenty years in the slums." "Now she wants to feel safe, and you won't be satisfied until you've pushed her over the edge." I whispered. I spat a mouthful of grit and gave him a bitter, defeated smile. "I told you... it wasn't me." Darien let out a cold scoff and raised a hand. The guards stepped up, grabbing my head and forcing me to look at the monitor on the wall. He logged into his admin account on the dark web. Without hesitation, he uploaded hundreds of my private photos—pictures from when I was severely injured and vulnerable—alongside forged documents claiming I had betrayed the organization. He dumped it all onto a public forum. Within minutes, Darien had diverted the heat from Mia's video. He offered me up as the perfect scapegoat, using the syndicate's vicious playbook to destroy my life. The comments rolled in. "I always said Laurel was rotten to the core, like the human traffickers who raised her!" "Turns out the arrogant assassin is nothing but trash!" I watched as the hundred and twenty smuggling routes I'd risked my life to secure were shut down. Once the criminal evidence leaked, the intelligence network and armory I'd spent seven years building were seized and restructured. Stripped of every resource I had, I wasn't even given the option to surrender. Intense humiliation and despair left my body numb. Just before I lost consciousness, Darien stroked my cheek, his fingers calloused. He kept his voice quiet. "Laurel, just do as you're told." "You owe her this." This was the man who used to shield me from every attack, the one who swore I'd never have to take orders from anyone. Now, he was tearing my life apart. In that moment, my last, stupid attachment to him vanished. Then, I blacked out. I jolted awake, gasping for air as I bolted upright on a soft, Sicilian velvet bed. The door opened. Darien walked over to the bed holding a glass of warm water and a couple of anti-inflammatory pills. He wore a crisp, handmade shirt with the sleeves rolled up. The terrifying hostility in his face was gone, replaced by gentleness. "Laurel, are you hungry?" He sat down and tucked the blankets around me. His deep eyes were full of indulgence—as if he wasn't the same man who had stripped away every ounce of my dignity down in the water dungeon. I stared coldly at his flawless performance as a devoted lover, feeling sick to my stomach. Fighting through the blinding pain of a bone I'd fractured in my fall, I ripped the IV out of my hand and pushed open the bedroom door of the safe house. In the center of the living room, instead of typical framed family photos, hung a massive, Sicilian Mafia-themed oil painting. It showed Darien as a powerful godfather holding the power of life and death. The woman standing beside him—wearing the black onyx ring that symbolized his wife—was Mia. Taking in the room's displays stole my breath. Chapter 4 Inside a bulletproof glass case sat a flawless set of red diamond jewelry. I'd spent a year using dark web intel to track down those rare black-market pieces. I remembered Darien cleaning his handgun when I told him I'd found them. He had pulled me into his arms, kissed my ear, and said. "You want it?" "I'll take it from that Russian by force just to get you the complete set." He had collected the set. Only he gave it to Mia as a gift to cement her status as his new wife. Darien's encrypted comms buzzed. His face darkened. He answered the call, then rushed out of the safe house with his closest men. Not long after, Mia stepped out holding a glass of water. "Mia, you—" Before I could finish, she grabbed my jaw and forced the water down my throat. A searing, violent cramp erupted in my lower abdomen. I doubled over, cold sweat soaking my clothes, and my knees slammed into the floor. This wasn't an ordinary stomach ache; it was the effect of a potent abortion drug. Mia dropped her hypocritical act. Her eyes went manic as she lunged forward, stomping her sharp high heel into my vulnerable lower abdomen. "Laurel, our syndicate's rules are brutal." "I don't have a choice." "If you stay fertile, and Darien shows you mercy by taking you off birth control to conceive an heir, my child won't be safe!" "I am pregnant with his baby now, and I have to eliminate any future threats!" My body spasmed in agony, but through the pain, my mind was clear. Birth control? For the past five years, I had never been able to conceive a child for the Allerton family. It turned out there was never a problem with my body. Darien had been slipping me birth control pills all along. Mia's hands clamped around my throat. She let out a triumphant shriek. She spat. "You think he's disgusted by women?" "He doesn't want some fraud who stole my life giving birth to a lowborn bastard!" Was she right? Seven years ago, I was seven months pregnant with Darien's baby. Seeking revenge against him, his enemies planted a bomb under my car. I lost the baby, suffered severe uterine damage, and almost bled out. That day, Darien—the ruthless mafia godfather who never shed a tear for anyone—dropped to his knees outside the ER. I could feel his hot tears against my neck. Trembling, he kissed me and begged. "Laurel, I don't care if we never have a kid." "As long as you pull through... as long as you're safe." Did he say that to spare me the fatal risks of another pregnancy? Or did he think my bloodline was beneath him, like Mia claimed? Mia sneered, her grip tightening. "You stole my life, Laurel." "You took my place." "You should have died a long time ago!" My lungs burned for air, but I refused to cry out or beg. In the mafia, respect is paid in blood. Ignoring the agonizing, tearing pain in my lower stomach, my hand blindly scrambled for a shard of broken porcelain on the floor. Staring at her with ice-cold clarity, I pulled my arm back and drove the jagged edge deep into her calf. Mia shrieked and let go. Clutching my bleeding stomach, I leaned heavily against the wall and dragged myself up. I looked down at her crumpled on the floor, my voice hoarse but razor-sharp. "Don't project your incompetence onto me, Mia." "Even if the family cut me loose, I still fought my way through gunfights." "You want me dead?" "You don't have what it takes." My consciousness started to slip. In the haze, my mind drifted back to a secure safe house in Sicily, seven years ago. Darien had stripped off his bloodstained clothes, tossed his weapons aside, and dropped to one knee on the rug, pressing his ear to my pregnant belly to hear the heartbeat. He kissed my cheek, his voice full of unwavering devotion. "Laurel, this baby is going to make the future of the Allerton family whole." "I don't care how much the elders push back—I will always point my gun at your enemies." A second later, the memory shattered. The vast sea of blood from my past faded into darkness. When I opened my eyes again, I was trapped inside a tiny, suffocating metal box. The harsh stench of formaldehyde and burnt material flooded my senses. Peering through a narrow gap in the dim light, I could make out the words painted on the concrete wall outside: Mafia Private Underground Incinerator. A cleaner's rough, deadpan voice echoed close by. "No vital signs confirmed." "Pour the gas and prep for incineration." My body locked up. A jolt of terror shot through my scalp. I was alive. If I didn't make a sound, they'd treat me like another disposed mafia corpse and torch me to ash in a thousand-degree furnace. I didn't waste my breath screaming. Instead, I pulled my legs up and used every ounce of strength I had left to kick the heavy metal door with my heels, hammering out a steady, muffled distress signal. The metal hatch above me swung open. Fresh air rushed into my lungs, and I grabbed the collar of the cleaner peering inside. The two massive, ruthless killers stumbled back in shock. "Damn it... it's Laurel." "She's still alive!" Ten minutes later, someone hauled me up into the freezing mortuary hall. Darien rushed in with his men. Mia was behind him, her expression dark. The second she saw me sitting there alive, she plastered on a terrified, pitiful look. She whimpered. "Darien, I swear I didn't know." "One of the hunting dogs died at the estate, and I told the cleaners to cremate it." "I had no idea Laurel would hide inside a body bag to scare me..." Darien looked down at my battered, bloodied body. Whatever brief flash of relief I saw in his eyes vanished, replaced by ice. He said, condescending and accusatory from his first breath. "Laurel, enough with the cheap stunts." "When you're done acting out, come back to the estate with me." He didn't stop there. "This dark web situation has Mia on edge lately." "She's an ordinary civilian without our training." "How much further are you going to push her by nearly getting yourself killed?" I sat on the autopsy table, staring at the godfather I'd loved for ten years. I had nearly burned to death in a fire, but to him, it was a desperate plea for attention. Chapter 5 Then, Natalie burst into the room. Ignoring my blood-soaked body, she walked past me and pulled Mia into a fierce hug. "Oh, my sweet girl, did this awful place scare you?" Decades of raising me meant nothing next to blood ties and family interests. Darien looked down, comforting a terrified Mia. I gripped the miniature camera hidden in my sleeve. "Why should I?" "I barely made it out alive, and you want to sweep it under the rug?" "Look closely, Darien." "Am I the one acting out, or did your bride try to kill me?" I slammed the camera onto the table and hit play. The footage was clear: Mia handing cash to the fixer. Darien's face hardened. He raised his foot and brought the heel of his custom leather shoe down on the camera. "That's enough." The metal crunched beneath his weight. He glared down at me, harsh and aggressive. "There's no need to watch that." "Regardless of what's on it, the heiress of the Bendall family can do no wrong." "You used to understand our family's priorities better than anyone, Laurel." "Now you're being petty and angry." "You disappoint me." I tilted my head back, taking in his handsome, unfeeling face. All my affection for him evaporated; I felt numb. I had no power to challenge him. To cover up Mia's crime and protect the marriage alliance between the two families, Darien was using his authority to discard me without a second thought. The truth meant nothing. Maintaining his power was all that mattered. Mia took a deep breath and dropped to her knees in front of me. Her eyes were red, and she started sobbing. "Laurel, please, let this go." "Aren't we best friends?" "I wanted a family." Watching her fabricated display, I lost the desire to say another word. Darien pulled her up off the floor and into his arms. The situation felt absurd. My adoptive mother and the husband I'd once trusted were standing like shields in front of a liar to protect her. What more could Mia want? Mia sobbed, her body shaking. "I lived in poverty for so long while you controlled the mafia family that was rightfully mine." "I hated you for it!" "If you despise me this much, I'll leave now." "I'll go back to the slums of Naples and never bother you again!" Darien lost whatever remaining sympathy he had for me. His voice went flat. "Take Laurel to the lowest ranks of the Naples mafia." "Make her experience every hardship Mia endured." I asked, feeling calm. "Mia, is this what you want?" "Are you willing to ruin your reputation to leave me with nothing?" Mia tensed and looked away. Then, I let go of our ten-year friendship. And I stopped caring about Darien. The next three days were physical agony. Guards dragged me down to the family's lowest-level smuggling dock. I'd gone from being the privileged wife of the godfather to crouching in a warehouse that reeked of fish guts and contraband leather. I scrubbed bloodstains with my bare hands and polished smuggled shoes, pair by pair, until the stench made me gag. On the second day, they shoved me into a chaotic underground casino to work as a low-level dealer, keeping me on my feet for over ten hours. My severe abdominal wound still hadn't healed. My legs swelled until they felt like lead, and the blood seeping through my bandages smelled like rotting flesh. During all that, Darien called to mock me, and Natalie phoned to scream at me for being unrepentant. I clenched my jaw and stayed silent. By the third day, my legs gave out. I couldn't stand. Only then did Darien order his men to dump me in the slum apartment where Mia used to live. The damp, rickety wooden shack sat perched on the edge of a cliffside dock. A freezing sea breeze whipped through the cracks, carrying the stench of mildew, and inside that cramped space, the pain became overwhelming. It was a sick kind of irony. I was the one who had pulled her out of this place and done everything in my power to support her, only for it to lead to my own ruin. I was wiping dried blood off my face when my encrypted phone lit up. It was a message from an unknown IP address: "Laurel, I am your biological mother." Tears welled in my eyes. I didn't ask why it took her so long to find me. I typed a single reply: "Bring a boat to the bottom of the cliff." "I want to go home." Then, a deafening rumble shook the ground outside the door. It wasn't construction machinery—it was Darien's massive convoy. He had come to see the results of his punishment. A heavy armored vehicle smashed through half of the shack's wall. Biting wind and the roar of crashing waves flooded the room. I backed up to the shattered, exposed window, standing over the deep, turbulent water below. My phone started ringing. It was Darien. I answered. Darien stepped out of the lead Maybach. He looked at me across forty feet of debris, his voice dripping with his usual entitled condescension. "Laurel, are you done being angry?" "I handled everything back home." "Natalie agreed to let you stay with the family." "Mia and her children won't threaten your position." "Behave, stand there, and let me take you home." He thought he could crush my pride, toss me some minor concession, and I'd fall to my knees in gratitude. I stared at his arrogant expression, which he was trying to mask with affection. Without a second of hesitation, I stepped onto the window ledge and leaned back. Darien's eyes widened in panic as he broke into a sprint toward me. "Laurel!" The phone slipped from my fingers, the screen still showing the active call. Over the sound of his desperate shouting, I let myself fall without resistance, plunging down into the cold, churning water below.