His Mafia Betrayal, My Unwanted Heir.

Isobel Stout POV

The crystal chandeliers of the Pierre Hotel’s grand ballroom glittered like diamonds, casting a fractured light over the hundreds of guests below. To anyone else, this was the wedding of the season—a union between the Stout and Costa families, solidifying territories and trade routes. To me, it was a desecration.

My father, Elroy Stout, a Caporegime who valued profit over loyalty, had chosen to marry Janiyah Costa on the tenth anniversary of my mother’s death.

I stood in the shadow of a marble pillar, clutching a glass of champagne I had no intention of drinking. My fingers drifted to my throat, tracing the cool metal of the sapphire pendant resting there. It was the last thing my mother had given me before the cancer took her, a piece of her soul I carried against my skin.

"Isobel."

The voice was like silk wrapped around a razor blade. I stiffened as Janiyah approached. She was a vision in white lace and malicious intent, her dark eyes scanning me with a predator’s hunger. She was only five years older than me, a trophy wife hungry for power.

"You look... somber," Janiyah purred, stopping close enough that her cloying perfume choked the air between us. "It’s a celebration, darling. Smile."

"I’m saving my smiles for a worthy occasion," I replied, my voice tight.

Janiyah’s perfectly painted lips twitched. Her gaze dropped to my neck. "That necklace. It’s a bit dated for a girl your age, don’t you think? It clashes with your dress. It would look much better as an accessory to my bouquet."

She held out a manicured hand. "Give it to me."

My blood ran cold. "This belonged to my mother. I will never take it off."

"Your mother is dead," she said dismissively, her voice raising just enough to draw the attention of the nearby guests. "And I am the new mistress of this family. Disobedience is ugly, Isobel."

"No."

The smile vanished from her face. She didn't argue. She simply flicked her gaze to the hulking brute standing a few feet away—one of her family’s enforcers, now part of her dowry.

Before I could react, a heavy hand clamped onto my shoulder. The force was overwhelming. I was shoved down, my knees slamming painfully onto the plush carpet. A gasp rippled through the crowd, but no one moved. Not the soldiers, not the other Capos. Not my father, who was laughing on the other side of the room, oblivious or indifferent.

"Take it," Janiyah commanded.

I clawed at the enforcer’s hands, but he was a wall of muscle. He grabbed the delicate chain and yanked. Metal bit into my skin, snapping with a sharp *ping*.

"Stop! Leave her alone!"

The desperate cry came from Arlene. My mother’s maid, the woman who had raised me when my father was too busy counting money, rushed forward. Her gray hair was disheveled, her face pale with terror.

She grabbed the enforcer’s arm, a futile attempt to protect me.

"Get