Betrayal Wears My Crown

Chapter 1

For eight years, Nevaeh Willoughby played the perfect wife to the untouchable mafia king, Benjamin. But when she uncovers his affair, she doesn’t break—she plots.

Beneath his lies, she unearths a darker secret: the Romano massacre wasn’t complete. Whispers speak of a ghost, a man dismantling empires in the shadows. A man with a name she thought was buried.

Evander Romano.

Her brother. Her last hope.

Benjamin thinks she’s still his. Still blind. Still obedient.

He couldn’t be more wrong.

Because Nevaeh isn’t just planning to leave—she’s planning to ruin him.

And this time, the queen won’t bow.

--

It was our eighth anniversary. Benjamin and I were on our way to the grand ballroom, the entire mafia family waiting to celebrate us—the perfect couple, the untouchable king and his devoted queen.

The car rolled smoothly through the estate gates, silence stretching between us. Benjamin sat beside me, his hand resting on my thigh, a picture of control and dominance.

Then—his phone lit up.

A message. Then another. I glanced down. The screen flashed before he could tilt it away.

[Leticia: Miss me, cuore mio?]

[Leticia: I can still feel you from last night. The way you took me against your car seat. You always ruin me.]

My grip on my clutch tightened. The same car. Our car.

Benjamin exhaled, slipping his phone back into his pocket like nothing happened. Like I hadn’t seen it. Like he hadn’t just spent last night with his mistress in the same place he now sat with his wife.

I didn’t react. I didn’t look at him.

I simply smiled.

Because tonight wasn’t just our anniversary. Tonight was the beginning of the end.

"Mrs. Willoughby, you are truly a vision," one of the guests gushed.

Benjamin’s arm tightened around my body, his grip firm. Possessive. Controlling.

“She always is,” he murmured, his voice deep, smooth—an unshaken ruler addressing his admirers. He leaned down, his lips grazing my temple, a display meant for the world to see. The crowd melted at the act, their admiration sickening.

I smiled, my expression flawless. They don’t know. They don’t see. But I do.

Earlier today, I found the truth.

A sleek black gift box tucked away in Benjamin’s private study. My hands had been steady as I lifted the lid, revealing a breathtaking set of ruby jewelry—earrings, a bracelet, and a necklace fit for a queen. A queen that wasn’t me.

Benjamin knew I hated rubies. Too loud. Too bold, he had always said. Not suited for someone as refined as you, Nevaeh. But he had bought them. Not for me. And the note hidden beneath confirmed it.

"For my one and only, Leticia. You own me, cuore mio."

Leticia Jones. His underboss’s sister. His mistress.

I had suspected for years. The late-night meetings. The way his phone screen always dimmed when I walked into the room. The scent of a perfume I never wore lingering on his shirts. But this? This was proof. Undeniable.

“Nevaeh,” Benjamin’s deep voice pulled me back. His dark, unreadable eyes locked onto mine as he reached into his pocket, retrieving a velvet box. “Happy anniversary, my love.”

Applause erupted around us. The world watched.

Calmly, I opened the box. Inside lay an extravagant sapphire jewelry set—earrings, a bracelet, and a necklace dripping in deep blue stones, shimmering under the light.

Benjamin smirked. "Exquisite, isn’t it?" The guests marveled at his grand gesture.

I lifted my gaze to meet his. My smile didn’t waver. “It’s beautiful.”

Beautiful. But it wasn’t for me. It was a leash. A collar meant to keep me silent.

To them, Benjamin Willoughby was the perfect husband, the powerful and devoted don who cherished his wife. But I knew better.

The celebration continued. Benjamin played the part well—whispering sweet nothings, dancing with me under the chandelier, letting the world believe that I was the only woman he saw.

But then she made her presence known.

Leticia Jones. Standing at the edge of the ballroom, wrapped in a crimson silk dress—his color. Her gaze never left him. She lifted her champagne glass in a mock toast. A private, silent taunt meant just for me.

Benjamin’s fingers twitched on my body.

“I need to speak with Enzo about some business,” he murmured against my ear. “Won’t be long.”

I tilted my head up, letting my fingers trace along the sharp line of his jaw. “Of course.”

His gaze flickered, just for a second. Then he left. Straight to her.

I watched them. I didn’t need to hear their conversation to know what it was about. The way she leaned into him. The way his hand found her lower back. The whispers. The secrets.

My phone buzzed. A message.

[Leticia: The sapphires suit you, Nevaeh. But we both know who really owns him. :)]

Attached was a picture.

Benjamin. Standing far too close to her. His hand trailing down her spine. Mocking me.

I let out a slow breath, my grip on the jewelry box tightening. But my expression never changed.

When Benjamin returned, he was composed, unreadable as ever. “The Jones needed some reassurance,” he said smoothly. “Nothing to concern yourself with.”

I met his gaze, my voice steady. “I never concern myself, Benjamin.”

Because I was done being blind.

I was done being the good wife.

As the night came to an end, Benjamin walked me to our room, his hand resting against the small of my back. A perfect gentleman. A perfect liar.

"You made me proud tonight, Nevaeh," he murmured, brushing his fingers along my cheek. "The family sees us as unbreakable."

Unbreakable.

I swallowed the bitter laugh that threatened to escape.

He leaned in, pressing a slow kiss against my lips, as if sealing the illusion we had just performed for the world. Then he stepped back.

“I have something to handle,” he said.

I nodded. I didn’t ask where he was going. I already knew.

When he disappeared into the night, I walked to the vanity mirror. The sapphire jewelry still clung to my skin like a chain.

I stared at myself—at the woman who had given eight years to a man who had never truly been mine. And then I did something I hadn’t done in years.

I laughed. Not out of amusement. But because Benjamin Willoughby thought I was weak.

He thought I would stay silent. That I would endure. But I was Nevaeh Romano.

And I was about to remind the world exactly who I was.

As I stood before the vanity, sapphire jewels glittering against my skin, my mind drifted back to the moment everything became crystal clear.

It was three months ago. Late at night. Benjamin had told me he was handling a shipment issue at the docks, but I had learned long ago that his alibis were crafted with precision—half-truths woven into a lie so seamless, even a master deceiver would applaud.

That night, I had been restless. Something gnawed at me, an instinct I could no longer ignore. So I did something I had never done before—I followed him.

The penthouse suite at The Royale. One of the many properties under Willoughby ownership. Exclusive. Discreet. A place where men like Benjamin handled business without interference.

Except it wasn’t business he was handling.

I had slipped past security with ease, taking the private elevator to the top floor. The door to the suite was ajar, the dim light spilling into the hallway. My heart pounded, my breath shallow. And then I heard them.

Soft laughter. Her laughter.

"Benny, you’re going to ruin me," Leticia purred, her voice sultry, teasing.

"You like being ruined, cuore mio," Benjamin's voice was lower, rougher—intimate in a way it never was with me.

I had pressed against the wall, forcing myself to listen.

"She’s been getting suspicious," Leticia mused, her tone dripping with amusement. "Your little wife isn’t as clueless as you think."

"Nevaeh knows her place," Benjamin replied, his arrogance a knife to my chest. "She wouldn’t dare challenge me."

A rustle of sheets. A quiet whimper.

"Mmm, and what if she does?"

A pause.

"Then I’ll remind her why she married me."

Leticia’s laugh was light, mocking.

"You mean you’ll give her some pretty little gift and use me to forget?"

"Exactly."

I had left before I could hear more. Before the bile rising in my throat could choke me. Before the rage burning in my chest could make me do something reckless.

And tonight, as I stared at my reflection, that night replayed in my mind like a silent vow. I unclasped the sapphire necklace and placed it gently on the vanity. Benjamin thought I wouldn’t dare challenge him.

But he was wrong.

Chapter 2

The Willoughby estate was alight with opulence and power, a grand spectacle of wealth and dominance. The annual mafia gala was not just a celebration—it was a demonstration. A statement that the Willoughby family remained untouchable.

For everyone else, tonight was a night of revelry. For me, it was yet another performance.

I arrived draped in an elegant midnight-blue gown, the sapphire jewelry set Benjamin gifted me glinting under the crystal chandeliers. A masterpiece of a wife, standing beside the man the world feared.

Yet, my presence wasn’t the one that demanded attention.

Leticia Jones was already inside, adorned in a blood-red silk dress that left little to the imagination. She moved through the crowd like she belonged, smiling at men who whispered admiration and women who watched with veiled disdain. She was bold, fearless, a woman who knew her power. And worse—she knew mine had been taken from me the moment Benjamin chose her.

I felt his presence before I saw him. Benjamin’s hand rested on my lower back, possessive yet distant. “Nevaeh,” he greeted, his voice smooth, unshaken. “You should have arrived with me.”

I turned, meeting his gaze. “You were busy.”

His lips quirked. “You’re upset.”

I smiled, a blade sheathed in silk. “I have no reason to be.”

Benjamin chuckled, lifting my hand to press a kiss against my knuckles. To the outside world, it was a tender gesture. To me, it was nothing more than a polished act of control. “Then allow me to make up for it.”

From his pocket, he retrieved another gift box—another leash disguised as love. I opened it to reveal a sapphire-studded bracelet, designed to match the necklace and earrings.

“You spoil me,” I said evenly.

“I take care of what’s mine.”

Mine.

He placed the bracelet on my wrist himself, his fingers brushing my skin as he clasped it shut. A perfect husband, a devoted don. A façade so well-practiced it had fooled everyone.

But not me.

Not her.

Leticia approached with the confidence of a woman who had nothing to hide. A knowing smirk played on her lips as she ran her gaze over the extravagant jewelry I wore.

“A sapphire set?” she mused, her tone dripping with false admiration. “Benjamin certainly knows how to keep you decorated.”

I held her gaze, my smile unwavering. “You wouldn’t understand, Leticia. A wife’s gifts are more than just pretty things. They are symbols.”

Her smirk didn’t waver. “Symbols of love or ownership?”

My nails dug into my palm, but I didn’t flinch. “Some of us wear our status proudly. Others… borrow what doesn’t belong to them.”

Benjamin shifted between us, offering a tight chuckle. “No need for claws tonight, ladies.”

Leticia’s gaze flickered to him, and she placed a manicured hand on his arm—a touch far too familiar, far too intimate. “Oh, come now, Benjamin. You know I only tease.”

I lifted my glass. “And we all know you excel at playing with things that aren’t yours.”

Her eyes darkened, and for the first time, her smile faltered.

Victory.

But a small, petty victory wasn’t enough.

I needed more.

As the night dragged on, I played my role. I laughed when expected. I leaned into Benjamin’s touch. I spoke with guests, maintaining the illusion that the Willoughby marriage was as strong as ever.

But beneath the surface, a storm brewed.

By the time I finally slipped away from the main event, I was suffocating.

The halls were quieter, the music muffled. I took a steadying breath, my hands trembling at my sides. Anger and humiliation clashed inside me, a violent war that had no outlet.

Until I heard the voices.

Low, hushed, but urgent.

I followed the sound, stepping deeper into the shadows of the estate’s west wing.

“Everything is in place,” a man’s voice murmured. “Once the funds transfer, the shipment moves. No one will suspect a thing.”

A second voice, rough and clipped, responded. “And the girl? She has no idea who she really is?”

A pause. Then—

“She’s been kept in the dark her whole life. She thinks she belongs to him.”

The air turned frigid.

I pressed myself against the wall, my pulse hammering against my ribs. The weight of their words settled like a stone in my gut.

They weren’t talking about Leticia. They weren’t talking about Benjamin. They were talking about me.

My blood ran cold.

For years, I had believed my place was beside Benjamin Willoughby. That my role was carved into the foundation of the Willoughby empire.

But if I had been kept in the dark—

Then who was I?

Chapter 3

“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 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 freaking 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 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 heck 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.

Chapter 4

The Willoughby estate was silent at this hour, but the weight of betrayal roared in my ears.

Sitting in my darkened bedroom, I watched the security footage on my laptop, my hands clenched into fists. The screen flickered, and there they were—Benjamin and Leticia.

His hand traced down her body like it belonged there. Her lips curled in pleasure, pressing against his throat as he pinned her against his desk—the very desk where he once promised me the world.

I played the clip again. And again.

Until the pain dulled. Until the rage settled into something colder.

Leticia’s voice was a taunt in the night: “She didn’t give you that thrill tonight, did she?”

And Benjamin’s response—low, rough, filled with deceit—shattered the last remnants of my loyalty to him.

"She was never meant for this world."

I exhaled slowly, forcing my pulse to steady.

So that was it, then. The man who once vowed to protect me had never truly seen me as his equal. I had been nothing more than a business deal. A conquest. A name to legitimize his empire.

He thought he could own me. He thought I was weak. A slow, bitter smile curled my lips.

He was about to learn just how wrong he was.

***

The next morning, I walked into Benjamin’s study like I still belonged there. I placed a sleek black box on his desk—my wedding ring inside.

The air in the room carried his scent, rich with power and control, but beneath it, there was something sickly sweet. Leticia.

Disgust curled in my stomach.

I turned to his bookshelf and ran my fingers along the spines of old books, pretending to admire them. In reality, I was memorizing the layout of his hidden safes, the security panel, the exits. My freedom depended on knowing every weakness of this house.

The door opened behind me.

“Nevaeh.”

His voice was smooth, controlled, as if he hadn’t just spent the night between another woman’s thighs.

I didn’t turn. “Benjamin.”

His footsteps were slow, deliberate. “What are you doing?”

I plucked a book from the shelf, flipping through its pages. “Just looking something.”

His gaze darkened as he took in the black box on his desk. He reached for it, his movements precise, almost calculated. When he flipped open the lid and saw what was inside, his entire frame tensed.

“Nevaeh.”

His voice was quieter this time.

I finally turned to face him, my expression unreadable. “It’s over.”

He stared at me, expression unreadable. “No, it’s not.”

I tilted my head, watching him. “I found the security footage.”

For the first time in years, I saw something flicker across his face—an emotion that wasn’t indifference or control. It was amusement.

And then he laughed. A slow, deep chuckle that sent a warning through my veins.

I didn’t react. I simply watched.

“You think this changes anything?” he murmured, stepping closer. His cologne wrapped around me, powerful and lethal. “You think you can just walk away?”

My nails bit into my palms, but I kept my voice steady. “That’s exactly what I’m doing.”

He leaned down, his mouth dangerously close to my ear. “Nevaeh,” he whispered, his breath warm against my skin. “You don’t leave me. You don’t leave the Willoughby empire.”

A slow smirk lifted my lips. “Watch me.”

I turned and strode for the door, but before I could reach it, his hand slammed against the wood, caging me in.

His voice was silk wrapped in steel. “You walk out that door, you don’t survive the night.”

I met his gaze, my pulse a steady rhythm of defiance. “Then I guess we’ll see who dies first.”

His jaw ticked.

For the first time, he saw it—the shift. The version of me he had never accounted for.

The Nevaeh who was no longer his. The Nevaeh who was going to burn his empire to the ground.

And nothing, not even Benjamin Willoughby, was going to stop me.

Chapter 5

The world had always been cruel to me, but this… this was the final betrayal. I had spent years shaping myself into the perfect wife, the perfect queen beside Benjamin Willoughby. But in the end, he had never seen me as his equal. He had only seen me as something to possess, to control.

Not anymore.

As I sat in the dim glow of my laptop screen, my heart pounded against my ribs. An unopened email stared back at me, the sender’s name hitting me like a bullet.

Evander Romano.

The name I had whispered in my prayers. The name I had mourned for years.

My breath hitched as I clicked it open.

> You're looking for me, Violet? <

The room spun.

Violet. My birth name. A name I hadn’t heard since the night my family was torn apart. Since I was forced to become Nevaeh Willoughby, the obedient wife of a man who saw me as nothing more than a pawn.

My fingers hovered over the keyboard, doubt clashing with desperate hope. What if this was a trick? What if Benjamin had planted this, knowing I was slipping from his grasp?

My breathing turned shallow. No—I couldn’t risk silence. If this was real, if Evander was truly alive, I had to know.

I typed with shaking hands.

Nevaeh: Prove it to me.

The response came quickly. Too quickly.

> Your favorite hiding spot as a child was the abandoned church behind the estate. You broke your arm falling from the bell tower, and I was the one who carried you home. I told Father I pushed you so he wouldn’t punish you.

I inhaled sharply. No one else could have known that.

My vision blurred. It’s really him.

My hands trembled as I dialed the number he had given me. The moment he picked up, my world shifted.

"Nevaeh?"

His voice was deep, familiar. A ghost from my past given life again.

“Evander?” My whisper was raw.

A beat of silence. Then, “It’s me, little sister.”

Tears spilled over before I could stop them. “How? They told me you were dead!”

“It’s a long story,” he said darkly. “One I’ll explain once you’re safe. Are you in danger?”

I drew in a sharp breath. He could still read me as if no time had passed.

"Yes," I admitted. "I need out. Now."

There was no hesitation in his reply.

“I’m sending someone to extract you. Julian Cross. He’s one of mine—trust him.”

I nodded, wiping my tears. “Where are you taking me?”

“To the only place Benjamin Willoughby can’t touch you.”

---

That night, I stood outside the Willoughby estate one last time.

Julian Cross leaned against a sleek black car, his arms crossed over his chest. The sharp angles of his face were framed by the glow of a streetlight, his expression unreadable.

“You ready?” His voice was low, steady.

I exhaled. “Yes.”

Without another word, he opened the car door.

I hesitated. Glancing back at the mansion, I felt a hollow pang in my chest. Not for Benjamin, but for the version of myself I was leaving behind.

Then I stepped inside.

Julian shut the door, slid into the driver’s seat, and pulled onto the road.

"Your brother made it clear you’re important," he said after a few minutes of silence. "So let’s get one thing straight—if you run, if you make this harder than it needs to be, I will drag you kicking and screaming to safety."

I smirked slightly. "Duly noted."

His lips twitched, but he didn’t respond.

***

Thirty minutes later, the explosion rocked the city.

I watched from the passenger seat as flames engulfed the empty car I had been meant to be in.

Julian had been thorough—my blood was smeared on the seats, my broken bracelet placed near the wreckage.

The authorities would find no body. Only the charred remains of Nevaeh Willoughby.

I felt nothing.

Not when the fire consumed the past. Not when the smoke coiled into the sky like a final farewell.

I turned to Julian. “Where to now?”

His gaze flicked toward me, assessing. “Midnight Syndicate territory. Your brother is waiting.”

I leaned back in my seat, my pulse steady.

Nevaeh Willoughby was dead.

Violet Romano had just been reborn.

---

BENJAMIN'S POV

The Willoughby estate was too quiet. Not the peaceful kind—no, this was something else. A silence that crawled under my skin, warning me.

I sat in my study, whiskey in hand, staring at the city skyline. The glow from the fireplace flickered against the glass, casting shadows across the room. My fingers tapped against the crystal, slow and deliberate, the only sound breaking the silence.

Something was off. I could feel it.

Then my phone rang.

I answered. “Talk.”

“There’s been an explosion.”

My grip tightened. “Where?”

“A car. Just outside the city.” A pause. “It was registered to Mrs. Willoughby.”

The world narrowed into a single point. No.

I forced my voice to stay even. “Repeat that.”

Another pause, longer this time. Then, quieter—like Dominic knew this was the last thing I wanted to hear.

“Nevaeh’s gone.”

The glass shattered in my hand. Whiskey mixed with blood, but I barely felt the sting. The only thing I felt was the cold. Deep. Paralyzing.

Gone?

That wasn’t possible.

My jaw clenched, my voice lowering into something lethal. “Where’s the body?”

Dominic hesitated. “There’s… not much left.”

I pushed to my feet, the chair scraping against the floor.

If they were calling me with this, it meant they’d seen the wreckage themselves. This wasn’t speculation. This was real.

I strode out of my study, the air shifting the moment I stepped into the hall. A dark, heavy energy wrapped around me, crackling with something close to fury. My men straightened as I passed, their eyes flicking to the storm they knew was coming.

I wasn’t just a businessman. I was a threat.

And whoever did this was about to learn what it meant to cross me.

The crime scene was still burning when I arrived.

The stench of burning metal and gasoline filled the air, thick and suffocating. Flames still flickered in the wreckage, casting an eerie glow over the twisted remains of the car.

I stepped out of my Maserati, my coat billowing as I walked toward the wreck. My men followed, silent shadows at my back.

A uniformed officer hesitated before stepping forward. “Mr. Willoughby, we—”

I shot him a look, and he shut up fast.

Turning to Dominic, I kept my voice steady. “What do we have?”

His face was grim. “Car was rigged. Whoever did this wanted it to be permanent. No loose ends.”

My throat went dry.

“Confirm it.”

He handed me a tablet.

I hit play.

The footage was grainy but clear enough. The car. The explosion. A burst of flames swallowing the vehicle whole.

Nevaeh’s car.

My fists clenched, muscles locking so tight I thought my skin would tear.

Then Dominic hesitated. “There’s something else.”

I met his gaze, my voice sharp. “Spit it out.”

He handed me a phone. “A message. From her. Sent just before the blast.”

I took the phone, my pulse a slow, steady thud in my ears. The text was simple.

"You’re free now—with Leticia, Benjamin. Goodbye, forever."