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I was a twenty-one-year-old, quiet, and reserved young woman who always minded her own business. Because of this, people often overlooked me, treating me as if I didn't exist. It felt almost like I was invisible, even when I was in the same room with them. It was so severe that even my own family, the people I called my own, underestimated me.

No one thought I was capable of doing anything alone; they saw me as a ticking time bomb. I hated this. I hated that they didn't believe in me or my potential, especially my own family.

All my life, I'd been ignored, and one would think that by now, I should be used to being treated like I didn't matter. But it wasn't as easy as it seemed.

Every day, I struggled with low self-esteem and an inferiority complex as opposed to the confidence and arrogance that my family's wealth offered. It was a battle I would always lose. Why? Because no matter how much effort I put into earning Dad's respect, he'd always see me as nothing but a weakling.

My dad, Patrick O'Brian, was one the most feared and revered men in the city of Chicago. He was an Irish mafia boss, ruthless and cruel in ways that could be only described as inhumane.

I didn't ask to be born into this family, and sometimes, it felt like a curse to be an O'Brian. Despite all the fame, money, and power that came with the name, it still had a negative side, and that was overbearing more often than not.

My passion lay elsewhere, far from the expectations Dad had for me. I wanted to work in the clothing and fashion business, like my friend Ravyn. She was doing so well, and her brand was growing fast. That inspired me to get out there and make something of my life—to forge my own path and chase my destiny.

I wasn't interested in his empire. No, not even remotely. He already had someone perfect for that: my brother, Liam. All I wanted to do was get the hell away from all this, but I couldn't. At least not yet, anyway.

However, it didn't matter what my plans were as long as I was still under his roof; I still needed to earn his trust and respect.

Dad was all about his pride, his legacy, and his dear son and successor, Liam O'Brian. He was a traditional Irishman who believed that the male child was more important than the female. I didn't have a problem with his beliefs, but why did he treat me like I wasn't a part of the family, too?

For two decades, I'd lived under my brother's shadow. It was always Liam this , and Liam that , and what did I get? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. As a little girl, I used to crave the same respect, attention, and affection that my elder brother received from our dad. But I never got any.

Even now, that little girl inside wanted the same thing she'd always yearned for this entire time: to be loved and respected by her father. Obviously, that was too much to ask.

I stood by the doorway of my brother's bedroom, arms across my chest as I leaned against the wall.

Liam had been ill for a few days. He lay in his bed, shivering, snuggled under the blanket. He had a fever, trembling lips, and gnashing teeth. The maid, Susan, was seated on a stool beside his bed, wringing a towel in a bowl of hot water.

Dad was perched on the edge of the mattress, his gaze etched with concern as he held his son's hand.

Liam was just sick—he wasn't bloody dying or anything—so why the drama? I’d been sick more than a few times in my life, but Dad never showed this much concern. It wasn't even a secret that he adored his first son more than me.

Somewhere by the floor-to-ceiling glass windows, Connor Donnelly stood sentinel, his muscles bulging out from under his black suit. His expression was blank, as stoic as his rigid frame.

Connor was Liam's right-hand man, and my brother never went anywhere without him. Connor was practically Liam's human shield and would give his life in an instant to save my brother. I'd never fully understood the concept of guarding another man with one's life.

The fact that the likes of Connor would willingly jump in front of a speeding bullet to protect their bosses was something I’d yet to grasp. However, the man was dedicated to keeping my brother safe. He took his job seriously and wouldn't do anything to jeopardize it, including indulging me with a smile.

I'd only seen him smile once, and it was cute. But that was a long time ago. These days, whenever I looked in his direction, he'd avoid my gaze just like he was doing now.

I'd had a huge crush on him since, like, forever, and even though he was always so serious and stern looking, I could tell that he liked me, too. The problem was that Connor was too much of a loyal soldier to risk his job over a fling. At least, that was what he thought it was.

I fixed my gaze in his direction, refusing to look away until I met his eyes. Those hazel brown irises seemed to hold a thousand secrets, including the tales of the men he'd sent to an early grave.

However, it was as though he could feel my gaze lingering, which was why he never looked in my direction. Connor had so much respect for the O'Brian household, and that was more than enough reason to keep him in check.

As Susan wrung the towel, the steady drip of water into the bowl created a soothing melody that jolted me out of my thoughts. My eyes darted across the room and settled on Susan as she draped the towel over Liam's forehead.

“Liam, me boyo, ye can't go to the poker game in this state,” Dad said, his Irish brogue laced with worry. “Ye should sit this one out. I'll have someone handle it.”

A pang of anxiety swelled within me, thinking, This was it. This is the moment my father will entrust something to me . A small smile played on my lips, and my gaze dropped to the floor for a fleeting moment.

Tonight, there was an important poker game that would determine the outcome of a crucial business deal between the Irish mafia and another powerful organization. Dad and Liam had been planning for this moment for weeks now, only for the family's golden boy to disappoint at the last minute. Not that it was his fault.

The importance of tonight's poker game couldn't be overemphasized. The deal involved securing trade routes that would expand the O'Brian family's influence and wealth. It was supposed to be easy, like all the other deals Dad and Liam had closed over the years.

However, these new players, this third-party organization, had insisted on using the poker game to gauge the O'Brian family's competence and reputation. It didn't make any sense to me why they'd insist on something as ridiculous as that, but those were their terms and conditions.

Liam was a master at poker games, and so was I, but as usual, no one knew that because, once again, my brother had outshone me. But maybe, just maybe, this was an opportunity to make my dad see that I wasn't as useless as he thought.

“Da, I'm sorry.” Liam coughed, his voice weak and face pale and clammy. “I'm sorry that I disappointed you.”

Dad patted his shoulders, his lips curling into a proud smile. “Don't worry, lad. Just focus on getting better. Someone else will take care of this.”

I let out a soft sigh and braced myself, ready to be appointed as the one to take his place. My heart raced with anticipation, and a faint grin lined the corner of my lips.

Dad jerked his head and looked in Connor's direction. “Donnelly,” he called, his voice firm and audacious, “you'll be representing the family for the games tonight.”

“What?” The word jumped out of my mouth, and my brows arched in a mix of shock and embarrassment.

Why would he do that? Why would Dad choose a bodyguard to represent the family while I was standing right there in the same room?

Yes, I admired and had a crush on Connor, but that didn't make it any less painful that he had been chosen to take my brother's place instead of me.

With heat pooling in my belly and deep creases forming between my brows, I stepped further into the room. “Dad, you can't be serious,” I said, halting a few paces away from him, arms across my chest.

He turned to face me, squinting with a hint of condescension glimmering in his gaze.

“You chose Connor, really?” I continued, gesturing toward the lurking bodyguard, my tone laced with disbelief. “No offense,” I said to him before turning my gaze back to my dad.

“Do you know anyone better and more capable?” Dad asked, his expression blank. His eyes were pinned on me like a hook to a fish.

That stung like hell, and my brows arched instantly. I tilted my head back a bit, mirroring my shock. “Wow!” I muttered under my breath. “That didn't hurt at all.”

“Look, Tessa.” He rubbed his eyes as if exhausted by my presence. “Just stay in your lane. This is bigger than you.”

“Why? Because I'm a woman?” My brows furrowed, accentuating the scowl on my face.

“You're not a woman. You're a girl—”

“Yeah, a girl who knows the game as much as Liam does,” I cut him off, ignoring the attitude and the mockery in his tone. I let out a sigh and continued, a lot calmer, “Look, I know the stakes, alright? I know the players; I know how they think and how they strategize. I assure you, Dad: I can win the game for the family if you let me.” I stared into his eyes, my heart racing as I hoped he'd grant me this request.

He was silent for a moment, as if considering it, and then he blurted out, “No. It's too big a risk, and I can't put the fate of this deal in your hands. Donnelly will do it,” he concluded, leaving no room for further arguments.

My jaw tightened at his embarrassing dismissal, and a wave of disappointment washed over me. It wasn't the first time he was underestimating me, anyway, so why was I surprised?

Connor Donnelly cleared his throat conspicuously, drawing attention to himself. “Sir, if I may.” He stepped forward, his voice smooth and husky. “I believe she's right. We do need her.”

I raised my brows, and my eyes widened at the unexpected surprise, my gaze lingering on him.

Connor continued, “I've seen her play, and she's as good as she says she is. She's smart and truly knows the game like the back of her hand. Her strategies and insight will be helpful.” He paused, his eyes fixed on my dad. “If it makes it any better, I can assure you that she won't directly get involved in the game. She'll only assist me.”

Dad shifted his gaze from Connor to me, and I looked at him, my breath lodged in my throat. It meant a lot to me that Connor had intervened, and the way he praised my skills made my heart melt like ice cream.

Dad hesitated for a moment, weighing his options. Connor's faith in me was something he couldn't overlook. “Fine,” he said quietly, his voice laced with resistance. “But you're in charge,” he said to Connor.

I honestly couldn't care less. At least I got what I wanted.

A heavy sigh escaped my lips as I steeled myself for what was to come, both thrilled and nervous at the same time.

This was it—the opportunity to prove my worth, but beneath it, it was also a chance to spend some time with Mr. Loyal to the Course.

Later that evening, I got dressed in an elegant knee-length black gown and light makeup that blended well with my skin tone. My black hair cascaded down my back in effortless waves, and my heels made me inches taller.

As I stepped out into the compound, the cool evening air brushing against my face, I locked eyes with Connor. He was standing stoically by the sleek black Mercedes Benz, waiting for me.

Discreetly, his eyes swept over my body, but his expression never faltered, nor did a flicker of emotion dance across his face. He held the car's back door open, but I walked past him and slid into the front passenger seat.

He hesitated for a moment as if taken aback by my choice to ride shotgun. Moments later, he shut the door and circled over to position himself behind the wheel.

Connor started the engine, and the soft hum filled the car's cabin. He stole a fleeting glance in my direction before easing the vehicle onto the driveway, the trees standing sentinel as we glided through.

This was Phase One. For Phase Two, I'd have to figure out a way to prove to my family that I was just as good as Liam.