My Rival Bragged About Her Don Husband, But He Was My Secret Husband

My Rival Bragged About Her Don Husband, But He Was My Secret Husband

I was the heiress of a Mafia family. Since I always kept a low profile, the head cheerleader Selena Hartwell mocked me throughout high school.

After graduation, I cut contact with every last classmate and threw myself into family business.

Then, just as our family was reestablishing its foothold on the East Coast, an old high school group chat blew up.

Selena went crazy tagging me: "Ava Costanzo, I'm getting married — and my husband is a Don! I'm ordering you to come to my wedding!"

The wedding photo she posted showed the groom cropped out, but I recognized the cufflinks.

The man beside her was Julian Moretti, the second son of the Moretti family, a crew that couldn't even manage two shipping routes without leaning on us.

My father shipped me overseas in high school to toughen me up. I ran into a pack of bullies. After graduation, I went completely dark.

Then someone dragged me into a class reunion group chat, and the unread count hit 99+. Half the messages were tagging me.

"Ava, Selena's been this warm and you're just ignoring her?"

"How rude can one person be."

I scrolled back through the thread to figure out what I'd missed. Selena Hartwell had gotten married today. Word was her husband was a Don on the East Coast. Same territory as me, which was apparently why she'd "invited" me.

"Typical Ava. She was like this in high school too, shut everyone out."

"Not much to look at, but acts like she's better than everyone."

I frowned.

Some things never change.

Back in high school, I enrolled quietly, but years of my father's conditioning had made me too good at every sport the school offered. The administration kept pushing me to take the captain spot on the cheer squad. Selena only got the position after I turned it down ten times.

At her inauguration, she showed up with a knockoff Hermès bag. I pulled her aside and quietly told her she should swap it out. She laughed in my face and said I didn't know quality when I saw it.

Then the photos went out, and people mocked her for carrying a fake. She came straight at me, threw a hot coffee over my head. "Was that you who leaked it?"

I just smiled. The hardware was literally peeling off that bag. Did she really think she needed my help to get caught?

I wiped the coffee off, reached into my jacket, and pulled out a pistol. Shot a pellet past her ear. "I'm warning you. Come at me again, and the next one goes through your forehead."

She went white and didn't start breathing again until she realized the gun was a prop.

After that, the cheer squad won a few competitions and she got herself a following. That's when the bullying really started.

"Ava, you can recognize real Hermès — how come you never