Mario really was a bastard.

The meeting he wanted me to attend was a welcome ceremony for Priya.

It was also the first time I'd laid eyes on her. The resemblance was uncanny; she looked startlingly like me.

I gave a helpless, bitter smile.

It seemed Mario's dramatic rescue back then was all thanks to the woman standing before me.

If I hadn't been her mirror image, why would a man like Mario—the Don of Chicago—ever have spared a glance for a ruined orphan like me?

"I see you found a cheap copy to keep your bed warm, Mario."

Priya's personality was pure fire. She shot me a lazy, dismissive glance, her words dripping with venom.