Three Fiancés Played Games—I Married Their Enemy

I am the pampered Princess of the Carpenter crime family, a girl whose three fiancés once leveled a city block just to retrieve her lost diamond.

But next to Avery—a battle-hardened medic who showed up with her kid and could dig out bullets without blinking—my "spoiled nature" suddenly became such an exhausting joke that Jackson and Rhys simply walked out on me.

Gabriel was the only one who didn't. He was my safe haven, kissing my forehead and promising, "They’re fools. They don't appreciate you."

I believed him. Until I looked out the window.

My proud, untouchable Gabriel was down on one knee in the dirt, humbly wiping the mud off Avery’s high heels.

I didn't scream. I didn't throw a fit. I just turned around, walked straight into my father's study, and looked the Godfather in the eye.

"Dad," I said. "That marriage alliance with the West Coast 'Butcher' family next month. I'll do it."

Camila's POV

"Have you lost your FUCKING MIND? That's the Marcella cartel!"

CRASH! The crystal tumbler exploded at my feet, whiskey everywhere.

My father—Raymond Carpenter—slammed both hands on his desk, chest heaving. "The West Coast Butcher family! Valentin Moretti, that psychopath—his women don't make it past three months! You wanna volunteer for this marriage? Jesus Christ, you got a death wish?"

He yanked open a drawer and slapped a loaded Glock on the desk.

"I already found some bastard daughter to take your place! And you—" Dad's voice turned vicious, "—did those three assholes hurt you again? Say the word and I'll have them whacked tonight!"

"Dad, NO!" I grabbed the gun. "Please, just—don't go to war for me anymore. It won't change anything."

He froze, staring.

My voice dropped. "They don't care about me. Not anymore. You stepping in… it'll only make it worse."

Just hours ago, I watched Gabriel—the one who was supposed to love me, protect me—down on one knee in the MUD, wiping dirt off that bitch doctor Avery's stilettos like some goddamn servant.

That's when I knew. It was over.

Last month, when I couldn't stand watching the three of them orbit around Avery like lovesick puppies, I smashed up her underground clinic. Yeah, I acted like a brat. I know. I just wanted them to LOOK at me. Just once.

You know what Jackson did? The bastard who runs our kill teams pulled my entire security detail as "punishment." Said I needed to "learn a lesson."

That night, a rival crew ambushed me on my way home. They almost—

When I finally stumbled back, blood in my hair, shaking so hard I could barely stand, not ONE of them gave a damn.

Rhys sat sprawled on the couch, didn't even look up. "Camila, look—without your daddy, you wouldn't last one night in this family. Why the hell would we waste time on deadweight like you? Who do you think you are?"

That shit destroyed me.

"Cough—cough!"

Dad's violent coughing snapped me back.

My chest went tight. I rushed over, rubbing his back.

The white in his hair looked thicker than last week.

He was getting old. Weaker every day. Jackson controlled intel. Rhys ran the guns. And Gabriel—my third fiancé, the family consigliere—he had his hands on every laundering operation we owned.

The three of them had slowly taken over the entire Carpenter empire. Once Dad died, who'd protect his useless princess daughter?

"Dad, listen—call off the replacement." I forced a bitter smile. "I'm your favorite daughter, right? I've lived off Carpenter money for twenty-two years. Time I actually did something. Please…"

He collapsed back in his chair, watching me. Forever.

Finally, he waved a tired hand. "Get out. Go back to your place and think this through. I'll… I'll consider it."

I didn't argue. Just turned and left.

Cold as hell outside. I pushed through the mansion doors and stopped.

A black armored Range Rover sat in the driveway. Gabriel leaned against the driver's door.

Of course he came.

My heart jumped—stupid, pathetic hope flaring in my chest. Maybe he still cared. Maybe he was worried, came to make sure I got home safe.

Then I saw what he was holding.

Gabriel's head was down, fingers flicking open a silver cross lighter.

Avery's lighter. The one she left at the safe house yesterday.

My throat went tight. I blinked hard and kept walking, expecting him to sigh and come over like he used to—drape his coat over my shoulders, say something soft, drive me home.

He didn't move.

Just the wind. And that goddamn lighter clicking. Open. Shut. Open. Shut.

After a dozen steps, I couldn't take it. I stopped and turned. "Gabriel… you're standing out here in the middle of the night, and you're not even gonna offer me a ride?"

He looked up, slipping the lighter away with a tired sigh.

"Camila…" Still gentle, but exhausted. "Come on. Do you really gotta keep pulling these stunts? Running to the Don in the middle of the night—what, ratting us out again? Last month's kidnapping didn't teach you anything?"

"I wasn't ratting anyone out—"

"When are you gonna grow the hell up?" He cut me off. "We're all busy, Camila. Stop playing these stupid games for attention, okay?"

"I didn't come to snitch. I came because—"

BZZZZ.

His phone vibrated.

Gabriel checked the screen and his face changed instantly. "Avery? Hey, what's wrong? Don't panic, lock the back door. I'll be there in ten."

He jerked the car door open, completely ignoring me.

Before climbing in, he tossed me one last look. "Be good. Stop throwing tantrums, alright? I'll send someone to pick you up. Just wait here."