Forced to Marry a Crippled Mafia Heir, I Made Him Don

My family spent twenty-five years without me, then they found me in three days. Not because they missed me. Because the daughter they raised in my place refused to marry Cassian Moretti. Once, Cassian was supposed to inherit one of the most powerful Mafia families in the country. Now he walks with a cane, rarely appears in public, and everyone says he's finished. Lillian didn't want a cripple. So the Ashfords remembered they had another daughter. Me. Three days later, they dress me in black, bring me to the Moretti estate, and announce that I'll take her place. The ballroom is packed with men in tailored suits, women covered in diamonds, and enough armed security to start a small war. Lillian stands across the room surrounded by friends. She looks exactly like a daughter who has never once had to wonder whether she belongs. One of her friends lowers her voice. "She really grew up at Blackthorn?" Another laughs. "That's what I heard." "God. All those criminals coming in and out at night." "Who knows what kind of men she lived with?" A third woman glances at me. "Poor Cassian." They laugh. "Don't say that. Elara didn't choose how she grew up," Lillian says. She doesn't insult me herself. She lets other people do it while she plays the saint. I turn one of the dark wooden beads around my wrist. Aldric gave me these beads seven years ago when I left Blackthorn. Count them when you're angry, he'd said. I'd asked why. Because prison would be inconvenient. He wasn't joking. Neither was I. I grew up inside Blackthorn, the private clinic every criminal family knows and no one admits visiting. Gunshot wounds, knife injuries, overdoses and poisons. People who need a doctor but can't afford police asking questions. I learned enough medicine to keep people alive. Poison was another matter. Poison came naturally. By seventeen, I could make compounds even Aldric needed time to identify. He found that concerning. I found it fascinating. For the last seven years, the beads have worked. People started calling me Saint Elara. Aldric nearly choked when he heard. "Elara." I look up. A blonde woman has stepped into my path. Beatrice Hale. Lillian's closest friend. Her father handles enough Moretti-connected money that Beatrice seems to think criminal proximity is the same thing as power. She looks me over. "So you're the real Ashford daughter." "So I've been told." Her smile tightens. "No one taught you how to dress for a Moretti event?" I glance down at my black dress. "I managed to put it on without assistance." Someone behind her laughs. Beatrice doesn't. "You should be grateful, you know." "For what?" "The Ashfords taking you in after whatever kind of life you had before." I stare at her. "They gave birth to me." "Blood doesn't make you family." Behind her, Lillian murmurs, "Beatrice." She still doesn't tell her to stop. Beatrice steps closer. "Everyone knows why you're here anyway." I turn another bead. "Lillian didn't want Cassian, so they found someone else to take him." "A crippled Moretti and a girl raised in a clinic full of criminals." "You two might actually suit each other." I smile. "Are you finished?" She blinks. "What?" "Talking." Something in my voice makes her hesitate. Then Lillian speaks. "Elara, she's only joking." There it is. Beatrice's smile returns. She reaches for my wrist. I move back. "Don't." "What? You think you're too good to be touched?" She grabs me. I twist away. Her nail catches the cord around my wrist. Every bead scatters across the marble floor. One rolls beneath a table. Another stops beside Beatrice's heel. For seven years, those beads have helped me remember not to poison people when I'm angry. Beatrice looks down. Then laughs. "Oh, relax. They're just beads." I stare at my empty wrist. Across the ballroom, a glass hits the floor. I look up. Julian Moretti is staring at me. He looks terrified. He remembers me.