Isabella POV

While Cressie was gone, the suffocating silence of the bedroom pressed in on me. I closed my eyes, and suddenly, I wasn't standing in the lavish Riggs mansion anymore. I was pulled violently back to the drafty, herb-scented shadows of the Vaughn family estate.

I could almost see my mother, Sofia Cantrell Vaughn, lying on her deathbed, her skin as thin and translucent as parchment. Outside her door, the shrill, triumphant laughter of my father's *comare*(mistress), Carie, had echoed through the halls. Carie had been relentless, scheming to marry me off to a disgraced, brutal family just to clear the path for her own daughter's ascension.

To save me from that nightmare, my mother had played her final, desperate hand. She had summoned Angelo Riggs—a young, seemingly loyal soldier whose family had once survived on Cantrell charity. I remembered the metallic scent of blood filling the room as the knife sliced their palms. A Blood Vow. My mother had weaponized half the Cantrell fortune to buy Angelo's absolute loyalty, forging an impenetrable fortress for me out of money and sacred oaths.

Angelo hadn't just broken a marriage vow today. He had spat on a dying woman's sacrifice. The realization didn't bring tears; it brought a cold, clarifying ice to my veins.

The click of the door brought me back to the present. Cressie hurried in, clutching the heavy mahogany box bearing the Cantrell family crest. She set it on the vanity, her breath hitching.

I unlocked it and pulled out the heavy, leather-bound ledgers. Together, we began to trace the ink. It didn't take long to see the rot.

"Look at this, Miss Isabella," Cressie whispered, her finger trembling over a column of red ink.

The Riggs family's joint accounts were completely hollowed out. Angelo's father had hemorrhaged thousands into a botched bootlegging operation on the South Side, using my dowry to cover his catastrophic failures. But it was the most recent entry that made my stomach turn.

*$20,000.00 - Maestro Bellini original painting.*

"He bought a painting," I said, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. "With my money. To impress Cecelia's father, the judge."

They weren't just using me. They were a family of vultures, systematically cannibalizing my mother's legacy to fund their own pathetic climb up the social ladder. The sheer, unadulterated greed of it severed whatever lingering thread of obligation I felt toward the Riggs name.

I closed the ledger with a sharp, definitive snap.

"Leave it on the desk, Cressie," I ordered, my voice eerily calm. "Along with the keys to the estate safe and the household accounts."

Cressie’s eyes widened in horror. "But Miss! If you leave them, you're giving them exactly what they want! You're letting that... that woman win!"

I stood up, smoothing the crimson silk of my skirt. "I am not surrendering, Cressie. I am declaring war."

I stepped closer to her, lowering my voice to a deadly murmur. "They were so blinded by the cash that they never looked deeper into the dowry lists. The commercial properties in downtown Chicago—the storefronts, the warehouses—they are still entirely in my name. They have been managed in secret by my grandfather's loyal man, Mr. Garrett, since the day I wed."

Cressie gasped, a glimmer of fierce hope replacing the tears in her eyes.

"The Riggs took the leaves," I said, staring at the closed door, "but I still own the roots. My younger brother and sister need a shield, and I am going to forge one out of steel, not the fragile promises of a traitor."

I picked up my purse, ready to walk out of this gilded cage and leave them with the bankrupt ruins of their own making. Before I could take a step, a sharp, hesitant knock echoed against the heavy oak door.

Isabella POV

"Come in," I called out, my voice steady despite the adrenaline rushing through my veins.

The heavy oak door creaked open, revealing Jean, one of the junior maids. She kept her eyes glued to the floor, her hands nervously twisting her white apron. "Excuse me, Miss Isabella. Nonna Maria requests your presence in her sitting room immediately."

"Tell her I will be down shortly," I replied.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Cressie grabbed my arm, her fingers digging into my silk sleeve. "It’s a trap, Miss," she hissed, her eyes wide with panic. "They are going to corner you. I didn't want to upset you before, but... I have to tell you now."

I frowned, turning to face her. "Tell me what, Cressie?"

"Months ago, before the winter thaw, I was running errands downtown. I saw Nonna Maria having a private lunch at The Drake. She wasn't alone." Cressie swallowed hard. "She was with Cecelia Pearson. They were drinking champagne, laughing, holding hands across the table like old friends."

The words hit me like a physical blow, but instead of pain, they brought a terrifying, absolute clarity.

This wasn't just Angelo’s wandering eye. This wasn't a sudden, tragic mistake. It was a sanctioned *Famiglia* conspiracy. The entire Riggs family had orchestrated this betrayal, smiling in my face and spending my mother’s money while secretly grooming a Capo’s daughter to take my place. They wanted Cecelia’s political connections, but they needed my wealth to survive.

The last fragile thread of respect I held for the Riggs name snapped, dissolving into dust.

"Don't worry, Cressie," I said, my voice dropping to a chilling calm. I picked up the heavy ledger and the brass keys to the estate safe, slipping them into my handbag. "A trap only works if the prey doesn't know it's walking into one."

I walked down the grand hallway, my heels clicking rhythmically against the marble floors my dowry had paid for. When I pushed open the double doors to Nonna Maria’s sitting room, the suffocating scent of heavy floral perfume and stale cigar smoke washed over me.

The room was a tacky display of newly acquired wealth, and the vultures were all gathered.

Angelo stood near the fireplace, looking tense but defiant, with Cecelia sitting demurely on the sofa closest to him. His mother, Carlene, hovered nearby, her eyes darting nervously. His younger siblings—Kandi, Geno, and Boone—lounged in the armchairs, wearing matching, expectant smirks.

And in the center of it all sat Nonna Maria, perched in her high-backed chair like a decaying queen.

"Isabella, *mia cara*(my dear), come sit," Nonna Maria cooed, patting the empty space beside her. Her smile was a grotesque mask of false warmth.

I remained standing near the center of the room. "I prefer to stand. What is this about, Nonna?"

She sighed, adopting the weary tone of a wise elder. "We are a family of pragmatists, Isabella. Angelo has made a decision regarding his heart, and Cecelia’s father, the judge, offers us invaluable protection in Chicago. But you... you have a brilliant mind for business. The family needs Cecelia for society, but we need you to manage the ledgers. You will both have a place here. It is for the greater good of the *Famiglia*."

A heavy silence fell over the room. Angelo puffed his chest out, clearly expecting me to bow my head and accept my new role as the family's glorified, humiliated accountant.

I looked at Nonna Maria, then at Angelo, and finally at Cecelia, who was already looking at me with a sickening mix of pity and triumph.

I smiled. It was a cold, razor-sharp thing.

"You make a compelling point, Nonna," I said smoothly, reaching into my handbag. "However, I must decline your generous offer, for three reasons."

Kandi’s smirk faltered. Angelo’s brow furrowed.

"First," I continued, my voice echoing in the quiet room, "my vow to manage this household’s affairs was for exactly one year. That year ended yesterday. Second, thanks to the exorbitant fees I paid Dr. Warren, your health is fully restored. You no longer require my daily care."

I pulled the heavy, leather-bound ledger and the ring of brass keys from my bag.

"And third," I said, locking eyes with Cecelia, "it would be terribly disrespectful of me to overshadow the new bride. A Mafia Lady must have absolute control over her domain."

I dropped the ledger and the keys onto the mahogany coffee table. The heavy thud made Carlene jump.

"From today on," I announced, my gaze sweeping over their suddenly pale faces, "the Riggs family finances are entirely in the hands of the future lady of the house."

Isabella POV

The heavy thud of the ledger hitting the mahogany table seemed to echo in the suffocating silence of the sitting room. For a split second, no one breathed.

Then, the reality of my words pierced through Carlene’s shock.

"You cannot do this!" Carlene shrieked, her voice cracking with raw, unadulterated panic. She lunged forward, her manicured hands snatching the ledger and the brass keys from the table. She tried to shove them back into my chest. "You are a Riggs wife! Your duty is to provide for this family! You are just jealous because Angelo found a woman of true blood, and now you want to ruin us!"

I took a deliberate step back. The heavy ledger slipped from Carlene’s trembling fingers, hitting the floor with a pathetic slap. The keys clattered loudly against the marble.

I didn't blink. I didn't raise my voice. I simply stared at her.

Carlene stood there, chest heaving, looking less like a respected Mafia matriarch and more like a desperate beggar. I glanced at Angelo. A muscle feathered in his jaw, his face flushed with profound embarrassment. Even Cecelia shifted uncomfortably on the sofa, her triumphant smirk melting into a grimace at her future mother-in-law’s crass display of greed.

"If the rest of the Chicago Outfit knew how the Riggs family repays a wife who saved them from ruin with a million-dollar dowry," I said, my voice a low, lethal whisper, "they wouldn't praise your new alliance. They would laugh at your blatant betrayal."

Carlene choked on her next words, her face turning a mottled red.

Before she could recover, Kandi sprang from her armchair like a cornered wildcat. The prospect of losing her endless allowance had finally shattered her smug facade.

"You ungrateful bitch!" Kandi screamed, pointing a shaking finger at my face. "Who do you think you are? At least Cecelia's father is a Capo! She has real honor! You are nothing but a merchant's daughter reeking of copper and common dirt!"

Kandi took a step closer, her eyes wide with venom. "My brother is going to throw you out like the trash you are! Without the Riggs name to protect you, you are nothing!"

The air in the room seemed to freeze. Angelo didn't intervene to stop his sister; he just watched me, waiting for me to break.

But the Isabella who would have cried at their cruelty was dead.

I let my gaze slowly, deliberately drag over Kandi. I took in the pale pink Parisian silk of her dress—the one I had paid for last month. I looked at the diamond studs glittering in her ears—a birthday gift funded entirely by my accounts.

"You are absolutely right, Kandi," I said, the eerie calm in my tone making Geno and Boone stiffen in their seats. "I am just a merchant's daughter. So, since you despise my common money so much, I expect you to take off every single thing you are wearing that my 'copper' paid for."

Kandi’s breath hitched.

"Take off the silk," I commanded, my voice slicing through the room like a blade. "Take off the diamonds. Leave them on the floor."

I shifted my gaze to Cecelia, who suddenly looked very small and very pale beside Angelo.

"And then," I continued, my eyes locking back onto Kandi, "you can go on your knees and beg your honorable Sister Cecelia to dress you. Let us see how far her father's honor goes when the tailor's bills come due."

Kandi's mouth opened and closed like a suffocating fish. Her face flushed a deep, ugly plum, her whole body trembling with a rage she was entirely powerless to act upon. She couldn't speak. None of them could.

The illusion of their superiority had been shattered, leaving nothing but the pathetic reality of their greed. I stood amidst the wreckage of their pride, no longer a pawn, but a queen executing her *Vendetta*.