Chapter 1 No.1

Isabella POV

The air in my mother's old bedroom tasted of dust and decay. It was a fitting perfume for a bride being sold to a slaughterhouse.

I stood before the clouded mirror, staring at the stranger in the reflection. The wedding dress, a vintage lace confection that had cost my father his last shred of liquidity, hung heavy on my frame. It was beautiful, yes, but it felt less like a gown and more like a shroud.

"Isabella."

My father didn't knock. He stood in the doorway, his face gray and lined with the stress of a man who had gambled everything on a losing hand. "The car is here."

"Is Alex in it?" I asked, my voice devoid of hope.

He looked away. "There... has been a change of plans. Alex is detained by urgent family business. A Capo has been sent to escort you."

I let out a dry, humorless laugh. Detained. In our world, that usually meant burying a body or dodging a bullet. But for Alex Moreno, the spoiled prince of the Chicago Outfit, it likely meant he couldn't be bothered to wake up on time.

Sending a Capo to collect a bride was an insult. It screamed to the world that I was nothing more than cargo, a piece of collateral to be signed for and delivered.

"Let's go," I said, picking up the heavy skirt. I wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing me cry. Not today.

Holy Name Cathedral was a cavern of stone and stained glass, filled to the brim with the most dangerous predators in the city. The air hummed with tension, a low vibration that rattled my bones as I walked down the aisle.

Alone.

There was no groom waiting at the altar. Just the priest, looking nervous, and the empty space where Alex Moreno should have been standing.

The whispers started before I even reached the front. They slithered from the pews like vipers.

"Where is he?"

"Look at her face. She knows."

"The Carlson girl is damaged goods before the ring is even on."

I kept my chin high, my eyes fixed on the crucifix hanging above the altar, praying for strength or perhaps a lightning bolt to strike me down.

As I took my place, a hand gripped my arm. Faye Nichols, my only friend in this shark tank, leaned in close. Her face was pale, her eyes wide with panic.

"Izzy," she hissed, her voice barely audible over the rising murmur of the crowd. "You need to know. It's not family business."

My heart stuttered. "What is it?"

"He's gone. Alex." She swallowed hard. "My brother's contact at Union Station saw him boarding the train to California an hour ago. He's with that singer from the Green Mill. Kacey."

The world tilted on its axis.

He hadn't just stood me up. He had run away with a mistress. He had chosen a cabaret singer over the union of our families, over the sacred Pact that kept the peace in Chicago.

The humiliation wasn't a cold wave; it was a firestorm. It burned through my veins, incinerating the fear, incinerating the sadness, leaving only a hard, crystallized rage in its wake.

I looked at the front pew. The Moreno family sat there in their black designer suits and couture dresses. At the center sat Sofia Moreno, the Dowager Queen. Her face was a mask of stone, but I saw the flicker of fury in her eyes. She knew. They all knew.

They were going to let me stand here and take the shame. They were going to patch this up with apologies and money, and I would be the laughingstock of the Outfit forever. The rejected bride.

No.

My hands moved before my mind could stop them. I reached up and tore the veil from my head, throwing the delicate lace onto the marble floor.

The whispers died instantly. The silence that followed was deafening.

I turned my back on the altar and faced the congregation. My eyes locked onto Sofia Moreno.

"Where is he?" I demanded. My voice didn't tremble. It cut through the silence like a blade.

Sofia stood up slowly, her presence commanding. "Isabella, this is not the place. We will discuss this in private. Alex has-"

"Alex has run off with a whore," I interrupted, the vulgar word echoing off the holy walls. Gasps rippled through the room. "He has broken the Pact. He has insulted my blood and yours."

Sofia's lips thinned. "We will retrieve him. He will do his duty."

"I don't want him," I said, the words tasting like iron. "I will not take a coward into my bed. I will not marry a boy who runs from his obligations."

"The Pact requires a union between Carlson and Moreno," Sofia said, her voice dropping to a dangerous octave. "Do not think you can walk away from this, child."

"I'm not walking away," I countered, stepping closer to the edge of the dais. I felt a strange, terrifying power surging through me. I had nothing left to lose, and that made me dangerous. "The contract states that a Carlson daughter must marry a Moreno son to seal the alliance. It does not specify which Moreno."

The entire cathedral seemed to hold its breath. Even the Don, sitting in the shadows of the front row, shifted slightly.

I looked at Sofia, challenging her, daring her to deny the logic of our own laws. "Since your heir is unfit, I demand the contract be honored by someone else. For the sake of your family's honor, I require a replacement."

I paused, letting the weight of my next words hang in the air like a guillotine blade.

"And since you failed to provide a groom," I said softly, "I will choose him myself."