Broken Doll No More: Her Ruthless Revenge

I stood before the heavy oak door with a positive pregnancy test burning a hole in my pocket, ready to tell the Underboss, Anthony Holden, that his legacy was secured.

But before I could turn the handle, I heard his twin brother laughing from inside.

"She screams your name, not mine. It is a little insulting, brother," Emmanuel mocked.

"Three years of celibacy for the alliance while you play with my toy," Anthony sighed. "I deserve a medal."

My world shattered. For three years, I thought I was the exception to their violence, but I had been sleeping with a monster in the dark.

When I kicked the door open, Bianca House—my high school tormentor—was sitting there like a queen.

"Happy anniversary, Erica," she sneered. "You were just a placeholder for the territory deal."

They didn't stop there. They took my dignity, and then they took my life.

At a dinner intended to show unity, they watched me choke on peanuts. Anthony looked me in the eye and used my EpiPen on Bianca’s fake faint while I suffocated on the floor.

They threw my grandmother’s ashes off a balcony just to watch me scream. They pushed me into traffic to ensure I’d be a compliant prop for their wedding.

They killed the baby in my womb.

They thought they had broken me. They thought I was just a nurse, a civilian, a loose end.

But on the day of the wedding, I wasn't in the pews.

I was on a bus out of state, hacking the church's livestream.

As the priest began to speak, I replaced the image of the cross with the video of their confession.

I watched their empire crumble from a cracked phone screen, leaving the monsters behind to find a man who would actually burn the world for me.

Chapter 1

Erica POV

I stood before the heavy oak door with a positive pregnancy test burning a hole in my coat pocket, ready to tell the future Don of the Holden family that his legacy was secured—only to hear his twin brother laughing about how he was the one who had actually planted it there.

The hallway of the Obsidian Club was cold, reeking of expensive cologne and old money.

My hands were shaking as I clutched my purse tighter. Inside lay a small white stick with two pink lines. It was supposed to be a gift.

Anthony Holden was the Underboss of the city. He was dangerous. He was powerful. But for the last three years, he had been my prince.

He had plucked me out of the gutter of my ordinary life. He had given me a ring. He had promised me safety. I thought I was the exception to his rule of violence.

I reached for the handle. I wanted to see his face light up. I wanted to see the hard lines of his jaw soften the way they did when he looked at me.

But then, I heard a voice.

It