Marrying His Rival: The Ex-Fiancé's Nightmare

I was the "Caged Canary" of the underworld, a biological asset designed to merge two crime families. My fiancé, Bryant Barnes, didn't love me. He loved the power I brought, and he loved his mistress, Kalia.

The night Kalia broke into my penthouse and stomped on my hand, crushing the bones and my fashion career, Bryant didn't help me. He told the police she was my guest and warned me not to embarrass him with a cast.

That was just the beginning. When Kalia lied about feeling unsafe, Bryant dangled me off a balcony. When she faked a kidnapping, he locked me in an industrial freezer for six hours until I turned blue. And when I fell into the marina, he swam right past me to save her, leaving me to drown in the freezing water.

He destroyed my body and my dignity for a woman who was stealing my designs and faking a pregnancy. He thought I was just a broken obligation he could discard.

But he made a fatal mistake. He didn't make sure I was dead.

I dragged myself out of the water and made a call to his greatest rival.

On the night of our grand merger, I walked onto the stage wearing royal blue instead of white. I rolled up my sleeve to reveal the scars he gave me, looked him dead in the eye, and grabbed the microphone.

"I hereby terminate my engagement to Bryant Barnes. And I am proud to announce my betrothal to the true King of this city."

Chapter 1

Charlotte Glover POV

I stood on the precipice of the underworld's highest altar, adjusting the silk of Bryant's blood-red tie while the paparazzi screamed our names.

My burner phone vibrated against my hip, a secret pulse against the silk of my gown. The message displayed on the screen was enough to shatter the Omertà.

"He just signed the deed to the penthouse for her. Leave him tonight, or I burn the city to get you out."

I didn't flinch.

I couldn't.

Bryant Barnes was the heir to the Barnes Syndicate, a man whose family controlled every shipping container entering New York Harbor and every judge sitting in the Southern District.

He was a predator wrapped in Italian wool, a man who had executed a rival in a crowded restaurant last week simply to make a point about table etiquette.

And I was his trophy.

The Caged Canary of the Glover Crime Family.

"Smile, Charlotte," Bryant murmured, his hand gripping my waist with a pressure that promised bruises by morning. "You look like you're attending a funeral."

"Maybe I am," I whispered, forcing the corners of my mouth up as the flashbulbs blinded me.

He chuckled, a low vibration that used to make my stomach flutter but now only churned the bile in my gut.

"Don't be dramatic. It's just a charity gala. We need the press to see the unity before the merger."

The merger.

That's all I was.

A biological asset designed to fuse two criminal empires.

He guided me toward the waiting limousine, his grip possessive but devoid of warmth. I was property, not a partner.

"I heard you bought a new car today," I said, testing the waters, testing the text message I had just received from Jaden.

Bryant didn't even look at me. He was checking his watch, dismissive as always.

"A McLaren. Limited edition."

"For me?" I asked, though the answer was already a cold weight in my chest.

He finally looked at me, his eyes cold and amused.

"Don't be greedy, Principessa. You have a driver."

The car was for Kalia.

Kalia Barron. The club girl. The mistress. The parasite feeding on the corpse of my dignity.

I swallowed the bile rising in my throat.

"I see."

"I'm dropping you at your apartment," Bryant said, tapping on the partition to signal the driver. "I have business to attend to."

"Business at the new penthouse?"

His jaw tightened. The temperature in the car seemed to plummet.

"Careful, Charlotte. You know I don't like it when you spy on me."

"I don't need to spy when you make it so public."

He grabbed my chin, his fingers digging into my cheeks, forcing me to look at him. His eyes were void of humanity.

"You are the wife. She is the plaything. Know your place, and you'll be wearing diamonds. Forget it, and you'll be wearing a cast."

He shoved me away as the car pulled up to my building.

I got out without a word.

As I entered my penthouse, the silence wasn't peaceful; it was deafening.

I walked to the kitchen, pouring a glass of water, my hand trembling.

I pulled out the burner phone.

Jaden: Did you tell him?

I didn't reply.

Suddenly, the front door beeped.

I froze.

Bryant never used the keypad; he always rang.

The door swung open.

It wasn't Bryant.

Kalia Barron strutted in, followed by two hulking men I recognized as low-level muscle from Bryant's payroll.

She was wearing a dress that cost more than my first car, likely paid for with the money my family laundered for Bryant's father.

"Nice place," she drawled, picking up a crystal vase and dropping it.

It shattered. The sound was a gunshot in the quiet room.

"Get out," I said, my voice shaking but firm. "Or I call the police."

Kalia laughed. It was a sharp, ugly sound.

"The police? Honey, Bryant owns the precinct captain. And guess who gave me the access code?"

She waved a key card.

Bryant's key card.

My heart stopped.

"He wouldn't," I whispered.

"He said you needed to be taught a lesson about respect," Kalia said, signaling the men.

One of them grabbed me.

I screamed, thrashing, but he was like a wall of granite. He threw me to the floor.

My head cracked against the hardwood, stars exploding behind my eyes.

Kalia walked over, her stilettos clicking like a countdown.

"You think you're better than me because of your last name?" she spat. "You're just a contract. I'm the one he wants."

She looked down at my hands.

My hands that designed the AURA fashion line. My hands that built the one legitimate thing in this world of blood.

"Bryant says you spend too much time drawing and not enough time pleasing him."

She lifted her foot.

The heel was a dagger.

"No!" I screamed, curling my fingers.

She stomped down.

The sickening crunch of metacarpal bones snapping was louder than my scream.

Pain, white-hot and blinding, exploded up my arm.

I curled into a ball, gasping, tears blurring my vision.

"Let's go," Kalia said, bored. "I have a date."

They left me there, broken on the floor of my own sanctuary.

I managed to drag myself to my phone with my left hand.

I didn't call Jaden.

I called the police. I had to believe there was still some law in this city.

Twenty minutes later, two officers arrived.

They looked at my swelling, purple hand. They looked at the shattered vase.

Then Bryant walked in.

He wasn't rushing. He wasn't panicked.

He looked annoyed.

Kalia was tucked under his arm, looking like a frightened doe.

"Officer," Bryant said, shaking the sergeant's hand. "I'm so sorry. My fiancée is having a... manic episode. She fell."

"She broke into my house!" I screamed, cradling my mangled hand. "She crushed my hand!"

Bryant looked at me with pure disgust.

"Charlotte, stop lying. Kalia has been with me all evening."

He looked at the cops, a silent exchange of power passing between them. "You can go. I'll handle her."

The cops nodded, tipped their caps, and walked out.

They didn't even look back.

They left me with the monster.

Bryant walked over to where I lay. He didn't help me up.

He nudged my broken hand with the toe of his shoe.

I whimpered.

"You called the cops on my guest?" he hissed.

"She broke my hand, Bryant."

"You provoked her. You're always so jealous, it's pathetic."

He turned to leave, guiding Kalia out.

"Fix yourself up, Charlotte. We have the Sterling Gala tomorrow. If you embarrass me with a cast, I'll break the other one."

The door clicked shut.

I lay in the dark, the pain radiating through my entire body.

I reached for the burner phone.

My thumb hovered over Jaden's name.

I typed three words.

Burn it down.