Broken Promises, A Vengeful Heart Returns

I was the daughter of the East Coast's most powerful mob boss. For six months, I was blackmailed into being the secret lover and informant for the FBI's golden boy, Kaiden Walter. But just as I fell for him, he announced his engagement to a senator's daughter on national news.

He called our relationship a "political arrangement" and told me I was just collateral to keep my father in line.

His new fiancée then publicly humiliated me, calling me "trash."

I had sacrificed everything for him, even the secret child we might have had, only to be used and discarded like a toy he got tired of. Was I ever anything more than a job to him?

The shame of my public disgrace killed my grandmother. My father, seeing my world destroyed, took his own life to give me a new one. He faked my death, gave me a new identity, and left me a fortune. Anya Chambers was dead, but Anna Russo was just beginning her revenge.

Chapter 1

Anya Chambers POV:

The first time I saw Special Agent Kaiden Walter, he was standing across the crowded ballroom of the St. Regis, a glass of bourbon in his hand, looking like he owned the place. He probably did. The annual FBI gala was his kingdom, and everyone in it was a subject.

He was the guest of honor, representing the Bureau.

I shouldn't have been there. My presence was an insult to everything this night stood for. I was Anya Chambers, daughter of the most powerful mob boss on the East Coast. To these people, I wasn't a guest; I was the enemy, dressed in couture.

Kaiden was everything I was not. He was the law; I was the crime. His family name was etched into the history of federal law enforcement, a legacy of honor and duty. My family name was whispered in back alleys and spoken in hushed tones in courtrooms, a legacy of fear and blood. We were two sides of the same tarnished coin, forever opposed.

And yet, every eye in that room was on him. They watched him with a mixture of awe and respect, their conversations lowering to a murmur whenever he passed. He had a reputation for being ruthless, ambitious, and brutally effective. He was the future of the FBI, they said. A rising star.

Our eyes met for a fleeting second across the room. His were a startling, piercing blue, cold and analytical. They swept over me without a flicker of recognition, as if I were just another piece of the ornate decor.

But I knew better.

Later, as the orchestra played a soft melody and couples swayed on the dance floor, he walked past me. The scent of his cologne, a sharp, clean mix of bergamot and something darker, like cedar, washed over me. For a moment, I forgot to breathe.

As he brushed past, my gaze fell to the crisp white cuff of his shirt. Just beneath the expensive