The Mafia Queen's Gambit

In the arena, I fought fiercely against my opponent and finally claimed the honor of ten consecutive victories.

I turned around and heard my fiancé's beloved clinging to his arm, mocking me. "How could a crude, low-class woman like her ever be worthy of you?"

I instinctively looked at Roderick Hudson, expecting him to sharply rebuke her insolence.

But the man who had been gentle and caring toward me just yesterday fondly tousled her hair and chuckled softly. "Are you jealous? Relax, you're the only one in my heart."

Watching them flirt so brazenly, my heart grew colder by the second.

Crude and low-class?

I sneered and dialed my father, the mafia boss. "Dad, put the engagement on hold. I want a new match."

...

The crowd slammed the iron bars, shouting wildly. "Break her arm!" The tin roof trembled faintly under the roar of their voices.

My right fist grazed my opponent's brow, slamming into the ropes.

The referee leaned in, counting down. By "seven," the other fighter struggled but couldn't rise.

"You won!" My coach's furrowed brow relaxed instantly as he rushed onto the stage, beaming with pride as we celebrated the tenth victory together.

From the second-floor stands, Erica Fuller gripped Roderick's arm, her eyes locked on me, surrounded by the cheering crowd. "Look at her, all sweaty and reeking, with blood smeared on her gloves."

Her voice dripped with venom as she leaned closer to his ear. "How could a woman like that ever deserve you? Why did your parents' will insist you marry some brute who only knows how to throw punches?"

Roderick's gaze dropped, his fingers brushing her delicate wrist as a soft chuckle escaped his throat. "Are you jealous?"

The arena erupted in cheers, but he tilted his head, his fingertips lifting Erica's chin. "You're the only one in my heart. All that attention I gave her was just to get the elders to hand over more control of the company."

Erica relaxed her grip, leaning into his embrace.

Her sidelong glance caught me pulling off my mouthguard to drink water, and her lips curled into a harsher sneer. "It just infuriates me. She's not even fit to polish your shoes."

"Yeah." Roderick's response was curt as he reached out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Don't worry. Once this match is over, I'll find a way to make her leave on her own."

As they schemed to break off the engagement, I had already packed my things and headed straight to Molly Robin's house.

Since I was three, relentless training had tormented me day and night.

Only fighting in the ring and Molly's kindness brought any warmth to my icy heart.

"My dear, you're hurt again?" Molly saw the bruise on my lip and gently touched my face, her eyes full of concern.

When I was a child, overwhelmed and breaking down, I would hide in the bushes behind the villa and cry.

Molly, a neighborhood cleaner, always