Betrayed Heiress: My Husband's Deadly Mistake

Betrayed Heiress: My Husband's Deadly Mistake

Out Of Town

5.0
Comment(s)
441
View
10
Chapters

I was eight months pregnant with the heir to the city's most powerful crime family. My husband, Austen, told me he was hosting a private celebration to honor me and the baby. But when I walked into the warehouse, the steel doors slammed shut behind me. I wasn't in a ballroom. I was locked inside an industrial glass freezer. Through the thick glass, I saw Austen standing with his assistant, Deb. They were laughing. He told me he didn't care about his son; he only cared about the trust fund that would unlock upon my father's death. "Cool her off," he ordered. His men dumped buckets of ice water onto me. The shock was instant. I begged him to stop, screaming for the life of our child, but he just watched with cold eyes. As I collapsed into a slush of ice and my own blood, I felt the baby fade away. Austen thought he had won. He thought my father, the Don, was dead and buried. He thought I was just a helpless, spoiled princess he could dispose of to seize the throne. He was wrong. With my last ounce of strength, I looked through the glass and mouthed three words: "He is coming." Before Austen could react, the warehouse doors didn't just open-they exploded inward. And through the smoke walked the man Austen thought was worm food. My father wasn't dead. But my husband was about to wish he was.

Betrayed Heiress: My Husband's Deadly Mistake Chapter 1

I was eight months pregnant with the heir to the city's most powerful crime family. My husband, Austen, told me he was hosting a private celebration to honor me and the baby.

But when I walked into the warehouse, the steel doors slammed shut behind me.

I wasn't in a ballroom. I was locked inside an industrial glass freezer.

Through the thick glass, I saw Austen standing with his assistant, Deb. They were laughing. He told me he didn't care about his son; he only cared about the trust fund that would unlock upon my father's death.

"Cool her off," he ordered.

His men dumped buckets of ice water onto me. The shock was instant. I begged him to stop, screaming for the life of our child, but he just watched with cold eyes.

As I collapsed into a slush of ice and my own blood, I felt the baby fade away.

Austen thought he had won. He thought my father, the Don, was dead and buried. He thought I was just a helpless, spoiled princess he could dispose of to seize the throne.

He was wrong.

With my last ounce of strength, I looked through the glass and mouthed three words: "He is coming."

Before Austen could react, the warehouse doors didn't just open-they exploded inward.

And through the smoke walked the man Austen thought was worm food.

My father wasn't dead. But my husband was about to wish he was.

Chapter 1

Izzy POV

I was carrying the heir to the most powerful crime family in the city, yet the man I loved was about to sacrifice us both for a seat at the table that was already mine by birthright.

The heat in the executive suite of Blackwell Innovations was suffocating. It was a wet, heavy heat that clung to my skin like oil, making the simple act of breathing feel like manual labor.

I was eight months pregnant. My ankles were swollen to twice their normal size, and my back throbbed with a dull, persistent ache that radiated down my legs with every heartbeat.

This building was the legitimate face of the Vancini family-a logistics empire built on blood money and buried bodies-but right now, all I cared about was the thermostat.

It read eighty-five degrees.

I wiped a bead of sweat from my forehead and trudged toward the control panel on the far wall. The office was sleek, modern, and entirely too hot for a woman in my condition.

My father, Ezra Vancini-the Don who made grown men weep for mercy-would have leveled this building to the ground if he knew his grandchild was being baked in the womb.

But my father was gone. Or so we thought.

I pressed the button to lower the temperature. The cool air kicked on with a hum that sounded like salvation.

"Excuse me, Mrs. Nolan."

The voice was sugary, laced with a venom I was too naive to taste fully.

Deborah Noble sat behind her desk, her perfect nails clicking against the glass surface. She was my husband's executive assistant. She was also the woman who seemed to be everywhere Austen was, like a shadow he forgot to cast.

"I need the air on, Deb," I said, leaning against the wall for support. "It is dangerous for the baby to be this hot."

Deb shivered dramatically, pulling a cashmere cardigan tighter around her shoulders. She looked at me with wide, mock-innocent eyes.

"I am sorry, Izzy. I mean, Mrs. Nolan. I have terrible cramps today. The cold air makes them unbearable. Austen said I could keep it warm."

"My name is Isolde," I corrected, my patience fraying. "And my husband is not carrying the Vancini heir. I am."

I turned the dial down further.

Deb stood up, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. She grabbed her purse, her face twisting into a mask of sudden, exaggerated pain. She let out a gasp that sounded more like a performance than a symptom.

"I cannot work like this," she whimpered. "I think I need to go to the hospital."

She stormed out, leaving me standing in the sudden blast of cold air. I closed my eyes, letting the relief wash over me, unaware that I had just signed a warrant for my own punishment.

That evening, the penthouse was quiet. Too quiet.

Austen came home late, smelling of cigar smoke and expensive scotch. He was a man hewn from marble and ambition, a low-level associate who had charmed his way into my bed and then into my father's inner circle.

He was the Acting Boss now, holding the reins while the underworld believed Ezra Vancini was dead.

I moved heavily to the foyer to greet him, a protective hand on my belly.

"Austen," I started.

He walked past me without a glance. He did not kiss my cheek. He did not touch my stomach. He went straight to the liquor cabinet and poured a drink, his back to me.

The silence stretched, tight and brittle.

"Deb is in the hospital," he said finally. His voice was low, devoid of the warmth he used to fake so well.

I frowned, moving closer. "She said she had cramps."

"She collapsed," Austen said, turning to face me.

His eyes were cold, harder than I had ever seen them. He looked at me not as his wife, but as a problem he needed to solve.

"The doctors say it was stress. Physical distress caused by a hostile work environment."

I stared at him, incredulous. "I turned on the air conditioning, Austen. It was eighty-five degrees. I could have passed out."

"You are selfish, Isolde," he snapped.

The word struck me like a physical blow.

"You have always been a spoiled princess, thinking the world revolves around your comfort. Deb is a loyal employee. She helps me run this family while you sit around and spend the money she helps earn."

The injustice of it burned in my throat. "I am carrying your son."

He laughed, a dry, humorless sound. "You are making everyone hate you. You are making me look weak. I cannot have a wife who abuses my staff."

He finished his drink in one swallow and slammed the glass down. The sound echoed like a gunshot in the large, empty room.

He walked toward me, and for a second, I thought he might hit me. I flinched.

He saw it and stopped, his expression softening into something that looked like regret, but felt like strategy.

"I am sorry," he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "The stress. The transition. It is too much. I just need you to be better, Izzy. For us."

He pulled me into a hug.

His arms were stiff. His chest was a wall of muscle that offered no comfort. I rested my cheek against his suit, smelling the faint perfume that wasn't mine clinging to his lapel.

I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe that this coldness was just the weight of the crown my father had left behind.

"We have to make this right," he whispered into my hair.

I nodded against his chest, desperate to bridge the gap between us, not realizing that he was already building a bridge to somewhere else entirely.

Continue Reading

Other books by Out Of Town

More
Bound By Blood: The Billionaire's Contract

Bound By Blood: The Billionaire's Contract

Romance

5.0

I woke up gasping for air, expecting the cold concrete of a prison cell, but my fingers sank into the plush leather of a luxury Lincoln. I was twenty-four again, wearing the silver silk dress from the night my life was systematically destroyed. Beside me sat my cousin Catrina, the woman whose carefully crafted lies had orchestrated my ruin and sent me to a penitentiary for five years. In my first life, this was the night the dominoes fell. Catrina stole my jewelry to paint me as mentally unstable, and by morning, I was stripped of my medical license and labeled a criminal. My mother’s family, the Montgomerys, stood by and watched as my father’s company was devoured by wolves, treating my existence like a "liability" that needed to be managed. I still felt the phantom tremors in my hands from prison fights and the stinging betrayal of being discarded by the people I called family. I had lived through five years of absolute hell, a former surgeon rotting in a cell while the people who framed me toasted to their success at galas I was no longer invited to. "Don't be selfish, Dawn," Catrina whispered, reaching for the necklace that would later be used as evidence against me. "Let the jewelry shine on someone who actually matters." She thought I was still the fragile victim she could manipulate, but she didn't realize I had returned from the grave with the cold, clinical calculation of a fixer. Instead of walking into her trap at the gala, I forced the car onto a dark service road and dragged a dying billionaire, Jennings Stafford, from the wreckage of a burning SUV. He was the only man powerful enough to destroy my enemies, and as I stitched his wounds with stolen supplies, I didn't ask for a thank you. I looked him dead in the eye and proposed a contract that would set the world on fire. "I want a strategic marriage. You get a harmless wife with a legacy name to calm your board, and I get immunity from everyone who ever touched me." The bill for my five years in prison had finally come due, and I was here to collect.

The Billionaire's Surprise: Her Secret Twins

The Billionaire's Surprise: Her Secret Twins

Modern

5.0

I returned to the Reeves estate after five years in exile, not as the rightful heir, but as an outcast. My father had been dead for only a month, and my uncle Julian had already claimed his mahogany desk, his face tight with a greed he no longer bothered to hide. Julian didn't even look up as he slid a check for a hundred thousand dollars across the wood. "A settlement," he sneered. "Sign the waiver, take your bastards, and disappear. We don't want you embarrassing the family name anymore." One hundred thousand dollars for a legacy worth billions—it was an insult designed to draw blood. When my five-year-old twins, Leo and Mia, ran into the room, Julian looked at them with pure disgust, calling them vermin and ordering them out. He threatened that if I didn't sign, I’d be on the street in a week, stripped of the Reeves name and every penny of protection. Even the family lawyer looked away as he helped facilitate my ruin. I tore the check to shreds and walked out into a freezing deluge, shielding my children while the doors of my childhood home slammed shut behind us. I spent years building a secret life as a high-level corporate fixer, yet when I crossed paths with Branson Reeves—the man who shared my son’s eyes—he treated me like a common gold-digger. He outbid me for the "Midnight Orchid" painting, the only piece of evidence that could bring Julian down, mocking my "thrift store" clothes while my children slept in a borrowed guest room. How could they all be so blind? How could a family be so ready to destroy its own blood for the sake of a ledger? I was done hiding in the shadows. When Julian finally launched a hostile takeover to seize the entire empire, I walked into Branson’s penthouse, dropped my "poor niece" facade, and threw a decrypted file onto his desk. "The game is over, Branson. Give me that painting, and I’ll show you exactly how to bury the man who thinks he's already won."

The Lover Who Destroyed Her

The Lover Who Destroyed Her

Romance

5.0

I was a rising architect, deeply in love with Ethan Miller, my charismatic colleague who promised me a future. He called me his muse, swore he' d make me his wife. I believed him. Then came the crisis: a critical error in our biggest project, threatening the whole firm. In the packed conference room, under harsh lights, Ethan pointed directly at me. "Yes, it was her fault," he stated, clear and steady. The entire room turned. I became a pariah overnight, accused of fraud and disgrace. Colleagues whispered, mentors condemned me. The pain was unbearable, but Ethan only offered cold indifference, his attention now solely on Sarah Jenkins, his junior assistant. I collapsed in a forgotten office, suffering for days. When I finally found Ethan, he was tenderly bandaging Sarah's minor cut, just as he had in our previous life while I fended for myself. He dragged me away, his fingers digging into my arm. "Sarah' s injury is more pressing, Olivia. Why do you always have to compete with her? She' s delicate." I tried to leave the firm, but Ethan and the executives forced me to take the fall, signing a brutal severance and an NDA to protect Sarah' s career. Sarah flaunted Ethan' s mother' s watch, the one he' d given me when he proposed in our previous life, and announced their engagement. "Ethan and I are getting married. You'll wish us happiness, won't you?" Why was he doing this to me again? And why was I so readily accepting my ruin? My spirit was shattered, my body broken, yet I couldn't comprehend the depths of his betrayal, or the sinister logic behind his actions. But this time, I wouldn't just accept it. The memory of his cruelty, intertwined with the desperate kindness of a childhood friend, would soon chart a new course, away from the torment and into a fight for peace.

The Truth Unveiled: A Vengeful Bride

The Truth Unveiled: A Vengeful Bride

Romance

5.0

"I don' t want to marry him, Mom." The words were a whisper, a desperate plea from the master suite that was supposed to be my bridal sanctuary. My wedding was tomorrow, everything paid for, hundreds of people coming. Yet my mother, steady as ever, offered a way out: a ticket to Florence. Just hours before my dream wedding, I stumbled upon a nightmare. From my balcony, soft lights illuminated the shocking truth: my fiancé, Liam, the celebrated tech genius, was locked in a deep, familiar kiss with my stepsister, Chloe. It wasn' t just a stolen moment; it was a betrayal that shattered eight years of my life. I confronted my father, seeking solace, but he sided with Jessica, Chloe' s manipulative mother, who mocked my pain. He dismissed my feelings, accused me of hysteria, and finally, tragically, raised his hand to me in defense of his new family. The sting on my cheek burned, but it was nothing compared to the agony of knowing my own father chose them over me. Later, I discovered the true depths of Liam' s deceit. Security footage revealed him admitting I was merely a "ticket in," a stepping stone for his career, while his heart had always belonged to Chloe. He wore her picture in a locket, planning our future while loving her. The man I knew was a carefully constructed lie. The grief hardened into a cold, fierce resolve. I wouldn' t just disappear. My wedding day would still happen, but it wouldn' t be a celebration of love. It would be my stage for justice, a meticulously planned takedown. I was no longer the victim; I was the architect of their destruction, ready to pull the cornerstone from the empire Liam had built on my lies.

You'll also like

He Thought I Was A Doormat, Until I Ruined Him

He Thought I Was A Doormat, Until I Ruined Him

SHANA GRAY
4.5

The sterile white of the operating room blurred, then sharpened, as Skye Sterling felt the cold clawing its way up her body. The heart monitor flatlined, a steady, high-pitched whine announcing her end. Her uterus had been removed, a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding, but the blood wouldn't clot. It just kept flowing, warm and sticky, pooling beneath her. Through heavy eyes, she saw a trembling nurse holding a phone on speaker. "Mr. Kensington," the nurse's voice cracked, "your wife... she's critical." A pause, then a sweet, poisonous giggle. Seraphina Miller. "Liam is in the shower," Seraphina's voice purred. "Stop calling, Skye. It's pathetic. Faking a medical emergency on our anniversary? Even for you, that's low." Then, Liam's bored voice: "If she dies, call the funeral home. I have a meeting in the morning." Click. The line went dead. A second later, so did Skye. The darkness that followed was absolute, suffocating, a black ocean crushing her lungs. She screamed into the void, a silent, agonizing wail of regret for loving a man who saw her as a nuisance, for dying without ever truly living. Until she died, she didn't understand. Why was her life so tragically wasted? Why did her husband, the man she loved, abandon her so cruelly? The injustice of it all burned hotter than the fever in her body. Then, the air rushed back in. Skye gasped, her body convulsing violently on the mattress. Her eyes flew open, wide and terrified, staring blindly into the darkness. Her trembling hand reached for her phone. May 12th. Five years ago. She was back.

Chapters
Read Now
Download Book
Betrayed Heiress: My Husband's Deadly Mistake Betrayed Heiress: My Husband's Deadly Mistake Out Of Town Mafia
“I was eight months pregnant with the heir to the city's most powerful crime family. My husband, Austen, told me he was hosting a private celebration to honor me and the baby. But when I walked into the warehouse, the steel doors slammed shut behind me. I wasn't in a ballroom. I was locked inside an industrial glass freezer. Through the thick glass, I saw Austen standing with his assistant, Deb. They were laughing. He told me he didn't care about his son; he only cared about the trust fund that would unlock upon my father's death. "Cool her off," he ordered. His men dumped buckets of ice water onto me. The shock was instant. I begged him to stop, screaming for the life of our child, but he just watched with cold eyes. As I collapsed into a slush of ice and my own blood, I felt the baby fade away. Austen thought he had won. He thought my father, the Don, was dead and buried. He thought I was just a helpless, spoiled princess he could dispose of to seize the throne. He was wrong. With my last ounce of strength, I looked through the glass and mouthed three words: "He is coming." Before Austen could react, the warehouse doors didn't just open-they exploded inward. And through the smoke walked the man Austen thought was worm food. My father wasn't dead. But my husband was about to wish he was.”
1

Chapter 1

08/01/2026

2

Chapter 2

08/01/2026

3

Chapter 3

08/01/2026

4

Chapter 4

08/01/2026

5

Chapter 5

08/01/2026

6

Chapter 6

08/01/2026

7

Chapter 7

08/01/2026

8

Chapter 8

08/01/2026

9

Chapter 9

08/01/2026

10

Chapter 10

08/01/2026