Betrayal Wears My Crown

“You have to admit,” a voice chuckled, laced with amusement. “It’s ironic. The Willoughbys wiped out the Romano family, yet the last surviving Romano bitch sleeps in the enemy’s bed.”

My breath stilled.

Another voice, smooth and calculating, responded, “Benjamin made a smart move. Marrying her solidified his hold on the remnants of the Romano influence. No one would dare question his authority when he has her under his thumb.”

Bile rose in my throat.

They were talking about me.

Like I was a pawn. A fucking trophy.

A third man scoffed. “If Evander were still alive, he’d have slit Benjamin’s throat for touching his sister.”

My pulse roared in my ears.

Evander.

I hadn't heard his name spoken in years. Not since the massacre that left my entire family slaughtered, their blood painting the floors of our estate like a goddamn warning.

Evander, my brother. My protector. My ghost.

“He’s dead,” the first man said, but his voice wavered, as if he wasn’t so sure.

“Maybe,” another murmured. “But there have been whispers… a man moving in the underground, taking out high-ranking players, dismantling operations with surgical precision.”

I could barely breathe.

“That’s just a myth,” someone scoffed. “If Evander Romano were alive, he would’ve come for her by now.”

The conversation shifted, but I heard nothing else.

I staggered backward, my entire body locked in ice-cold fury.

Benjamin Willoughby had married me under the guise of protection, claiming to shield me from the same world that had slaughtered my family. But the truth was clear now—he had known the truth all along.

He had known there was a possibility that my brother still lived.

And he had chosen to keep me in the dark.

By the time I returned to my private room, my hands were steady, my mind sharpened into a blade. I locked the door, walked to my desk, and pulled out a burner phone.

There was only one person I could contact. Someone who operated in the deepest circles of the underworld, where blood and power were currency.

I dialed the number.

It rang once before a voice answered. Deep. Gruff. Dangerous.

“Who the hell is this?”

I took a slow breath, masking the rage burning inside me. “I need information.”

A pause. Then a low chuckle. “Information comes at a price, sweetheart.”

I smiled coldly. “I can pay.”

“Then start talking.”

My grip tightened around the phone. “I need you to confirm a rumor. Find out if Evander Romano is alive.”

Silence.

Then the man muttered, “Romano? That’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time.”

“I want answers. And if you find him, tell him…” My voice dropped into a razor-sharp whisper.

“Tell him his little sister is done playing house with the enemy.”

---

I barely had time to put the phone away before the door to my room burst open.

Benjamin strode in, his presence suffocating.

“You left the gala,” he said, voice deceptively calm. “Without a word.”

I turned slowly, tilting my head. “I wasn’t feeling well.”

His eyes darkened. “You’re lying.”

I stepped toward him, my chin lifted in defiance. “Am I?”

A flicker of something passed over his face. Suspicion. Good.

I wanted him on edge. I wanted him to wonder how much I knew.

His jaw clenched. “Nevaeh—”

I smiled, cold and venomous. “You should be more careful, Benjamin. Secrets have a way of unraveling.”

For the first time, he looked unsettled.

And that was just the beginning. Because if Evander was out there—if my brother was truly alive— Then Benjamin Willoughby had no idea what was coming for him.