The Runaway Fiancée: Claimed By The Rival

I watched the man I was contractually bound to marry dive into the freezing water.

But he wasn't swimming toward me.

Only seconds prior, his mistress had shoved me into the ornamental pool.

I struggled to surface, my heavy silk dress dragging me down like a lead weight.

Jax, the ruthless Underboss of Chicago, swam right past me.

He reached for the woman who had pushed me, scooping her up as she faked a leg cramp.

He carried her out, stepping over my hand as I clawed at the slippery edge.

Every Capo and soldier in the underworld watched the heir choose a jersey chaser over his fiancée.

"You are making a scene, Eliana," Jax said, his voice devoid of emotion.

"Go home."

He didn't offer a hand. He ordered me away like a disobedient dog.

Later that night, when I tried to return his ring, his mistress laughed and shoved me down a flight of stairs.

I lay at the bottom, broken and bleeding.

Jax didn't check if I was alive. He comforted her instead.

To him, I was just furniture. A guarantee.

He thought he had broken me. He thought I had nowhere to go because our families were allied.

He was wrong.

I left the five-carat diamond on the table.

I left my car keys on the dashboard at O'Hare Airport.

I didn't just run away.

I boarded a one-way flight to New York to join his mortal enemy, the Tran Syndicate.

Jax Little thought he owned the board.

He didn't realize the Queen had just defected.

Chapter 1

Eliana Carter POV

I watched the man I was contractually bound to marry dive into the freezing water, but he wasn't swimming toward me.

Only ten seconds prior, Catalina Manning had shoved me into the ornamental pool at the Riley Estate. I could still feel the phantom sting of her acrylic nails digging into my arm just before the splash.

The water was a shock of ice against my skin, instantly soaking the heavy silk of my dress and dragging me down like a lead weight.

I surfaced, gasping for air, the chlorine and my own mascara stinging my eyes.

I looked for Jax.

He was the Underboss of the Chicago Outfit.

He was the man whose diamond ring sat heavy as a shackle on my finger.

He was the apex predator in a ballroom filled with killers, a man who had ended a turf war last month by hanging three rivals from a bridge.

He was supposed to be my protector.

But Jax didn't look at me.

He swam right past me.

He reached for Catalina, who was flailing in the shallow end, screaming about a leg cramp she clearly didn't have.

He scooped her up in his arms, his bespoke suit ruined, his face etched with a frantic concern he had never once wasted on me.

He carried her to the poolside, stepping over my hand as I tried to grip the slippery edge.

The silence in the garden was louder than a gunshot.

Every Capo, every Soldier, every gossiping wife in the Chicago underworld was watching.

They witnessed the heir to the throne choose a jersey chaser over a Capo's daughter.

They saw the ultimate disrespect.

I pulled myself out of the pool, my limbs trembling.

My dress clung to my body, a freezing, second skin.

I shivered, but it wasn't from the temperature.

It was the sudden, hollow realization that I was utterly, irrevocably alone.

Jax set Catalina down on a lounge chair, wrapping his wet suit jacket around her shoulders.

She smirked at me over his shoulder, a small, victorious curl of her painted lip.

Jax finally turned to look at me.

His eyes were cold, devoid of apology or recognition.

"You are making a scene, Eliana," he said.

His voice was flat, stripped of emotion.

"Go home."

He didn't ask if I was hurt.

He didn't offer a hand.

He ordered me away like a disobedient dog.

I stood there, puddle water dripping from my hair onto the expensive stone patio.

The humiliation burned in my chest, hot and suffocating, clashing with the chill on my skin.

I realized then that the contract between our families was just ink on paper.

To him, I was furniture.

To him, I was a guarantee.

I didn't say a word.

I turned around and walked away, leaving a trail of water in my wake.

I walked past the staring guests, keeping my chin high even as my teeth chattered violently.

I reached the parking lot and pulled my phone from my clutch.

It was wet, but the screen flickered to life.

I dialed the one number I prayed wasn't being monitored by Jax's men yet.

Uncle Sal picked up on the second ring.

"I'm calling in the favor, Sal," I said.

My voice didn't shake.

"I need to disappear. Tonight."

Eliana Carter POV

The guards at the Little Estate let me in because they didn't realize I was already a ghost.

To them, I was still the future Don's wife, a fixture of this world.

I walked through the marble foyer, my sodden dress clinging to my skin, leaving dark, watery accusations on the pristine floor.

Jax's mother, Karen, emerged from the sitting room. She took in my state-shivering, dripping, broken-and sighed.

But it wasn't a sigh of sympathy.

It was the sigh of a woman calculating the cost of water damage to her antique Persian rugs.

"Go get changed, Eliana," she said, her voice clipped. "Jax will be home soon."

I didn't answer her.

I walked past her, ascending the grand staircase toward Jax's penthouse suite. My footsteps were heavy, wet squelches against the plush runner.

I didn't knock.

I pushed the double doors open.

Jax was there.

He was dry now, dressed in fresh clothes, looking every bit the untouchable king.

And Catalina was there, too.

She was wearing his football jersey, the oversized fabric swallowing her small frame. It wasn't just clothing; it was a flag planted on conquered soil. She was marking her territory in what was supposed to be my future home.

They stopped talking the moment they saw me.

I didn't say a word. I walked straight to the mahogany table near the door, my hands trembling not from cold, but from adrenaline.

I reached into my purse and pulled out the small velvet box I had carried with me for three years. It held every memento, every note, every small token of the alliance that had bound our families together.

I dumped it upside down on the table.

The engagement ring hit the wood with a heavy, final thud. It spun wildly before settling, the massive diamond catching the light with a cold, mocking glint.

"What are you doing?" Jax asked.

His voice was low-a warning rumble that usually made rooms fall silent.

"Pick it up."

I looked at him, meeting his gaze.

"No."

His jaw tightened. A muscle feathered in his cheek. He wasn't used to the word *no*.

He took a step toward me, his presence looming. "I said pick it up, Eliana. You don't get to throw tantrums."

"I'm not throwing a tantrum," I said, my voice surprisingly steady. "I'm returning your property."

Catalina laughed.

It was a sharp, grating sound that scraped against my nerves. Emboldened by his silence, she walked toward me.

"You heard him," she sneered. "Pick it up and get out."

She reached out and shoved my shoulder.

I was still weak from the cold, my limbs heavy and slow. I wasn't ready for it.

I stumbled back.

My heel caught on the edge of the top step. I reached for the railing, desperate, but my hands were slick with rain.

I missed.

I fell.

The world tumbled violently.

My shoulder slammed into the wall, a sickening crunch echoing in my ears. My head cracked against the hard wood of the steps.

I landed at the bottom of the landing, a heap of wet silk and blinding pain. A sharp, throbbing agony radiated from my ankle, stealing the air from my lungs.

I gasped, choking on a sob.

Jax appeared at the top of the stairs. He looked down at me, his expression unreadable.

Then, he looked at Catalina.

She was feigning shock, her hand pressed theatrically over her mouth.

"Are you okay, Cat?" he asked her, his voice laced with concern. "Did she hurt you?"

I lay there on the floor, blinking back the black spots dancing in my vision. The realization hit me harder than the fall.

He wasn't coming down.

He wasn't checking to see if I had broken my neck.

He was comforting the woman who had pushed me.

"Get out, Eliana," Jax called down, his voice cold and distant. "Before you actually hurt someone."

I dragged myself up, gritting my teeth against the scream threatening to tear from my throat. My ankle shrieked in protest with every movement.

I limped to the door, using the wall for support, leaving a smear of dampness on the wallpaper.

I didn't look back.

I walked out into the biting night air, the physical pain nothing compared to the hollow ache in my chest.

My phone buzzed in my hand.

It was an Instagram notification.

Catalina had just posted a photo.

It was a selfie in his jersey, taken in his bedroom-*our* future bedroom.

The caption read: The Queen stays Queen.

Eliana Carter POV:

I bound my ankle in an ace bandage, pulling it tight enough to numb the throbbing, and stepped into my highest heels.

Pain was just a signal to the brain, and I had learned to sever those connections a long time ago.

I walked into Tyler's estate for the after-party.

The music was thumping, a heavy bass that vibrated against my ribs, masking the erratic rhythm of my own heart.

I saw the looks.

Whispers traveled faster than bullets in our world.

Everyone knew about the pool.

Everyone knew about the stairs.

They were vultures, waiting for me to break.

Mason Riley intercepted me near the bar.

He was Jax's Consigliere, and the only man Jax even half-listened to.

"Eliana," Mason said.

He looked down at my ankle, noticing the slight limp I couldn't fully hide.

"You shouldn't be here."

I picked up a glass of champagne, the crystal cool against my palm.

"I'm fine, Mason."

He leaned in close, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper.

"Jax is out of control."

"He's breaking the code, Eliana."

"You need to go home."

"I'm not the one breaking codes," I said coolly.

Suddenly, the crowd parted like the Red Sea.

Jax walked in.

Catalina was on his arm, wearing a dress that cost more than my entire college tuition.

She saw me and smiled, a sharp, predatory thing.

Jax saw me and frowned.

He pulled Catalina toward the sunken lounge where the inner circle sat.

He sank onto the leather sofa, spreading his legs, taking up space like a king on a throne.

Catalina sat on his lap.

It was a public declaration.

In our world, you didn't parade the mistress in front of the wife.

It was a rule written in blood and honor.

Jax was burning the rulebook just to watch me choke on the smoke.

"Come join us, Eliana!" Catalina called out, her voice shrill over the music.

"We're playing Truth or Dare."

I didn't move.

I stood by the pillar, watching like a statue.

Someone spun the bottle.

It landed on Catalina.

"Truth or Dare?" a soldier asked.

"Dare," she said, her eyes locked on mine.

"I dare you to kiss the King of the Night."

She turned to Jax.

He didn't hesitate.

He grabbed the back of her head and kissed her.

It wasn't a soft kiss.

It was aggressive, messy, and loud.

He bit her lip.

She moaned.

The room went silent.

People looked at me, expecting tears.

Expecting a scene.

I felt nothing.

The part of me that used to care about Jax Little had died at the bottom of his stairs.

Jax broke the kiss and looked at me, challenging me.

He wanted a reaction.

He wanted me to scream, to fight, to show that I still belonged to him.

I took a slow sip of my champagne.

"Your lipstick is smeared," I said to Catalina.

My voice was steady, cutting through the quiet room.

"And Jax, you have cheap glitter on your face."

I turned to Mason.

"I'm leaving."

Jax stood up, pushing Catalina aside roughly.

"Where do you think you're going?" he demanded, his voice booming.

"Away from the smell," I said, meeting his gaze without flinching.

"Desperation is a very strong cologne, Jax."