“I stood at the altar in my wedding gown when my assistant handed me the phone. My fiancé, Devin, the heir to New York's most powerful mafia family, had just eloped with a waitress. He didn't just leave me; he broadcasted a photo of them kissing at the airport to the entire high society. A thousand guests whispered like a virus. Flashbulbs went off like gunfire. My father panicked, begging me to flee through the side door in shame. In the back room, the House family matriarch treated me like garbage, tossing her lesser, resentful grandsons at me to clean up the mess. "Choose one of them, or scurry away," her daughter-in-law sneered. If I compromised, I would be a permanent joke, a powerless hand-me-down bride for Devin to mock from his European paradise. I had played the perfect, obedient fiancée for years, only to be publicly executed like a fool. But I didn't shed a single tear. The humiliation froze into a sharp, calculated desire for vengeance. I refused to be their victim. I wanted to make Devin bow to me for the rest of his life. Lifting my heavy skirt, I walked straight to the center of the room, locking eyes with the terrifying man in the shadows. "Since the heir ran away, the compensation must be of equal value," I declared. I pointed past the furious matriarch, aiming directly at Devin's adoptive father-the ruthless, absolute Don of the House family, Brent House. "I choose him."”