I caught my fiancé, Nico Falcone, in bed with my own cousin, Bianca Rossi. Right before our wedding.

When I confronted him, he just called the whole thing off and ran me out of New York.

I didn’t see him again for five years. Then came the charity gala for the New York Families.

There he was. Nico.

He pulled me aside, saying he felt bad for the state I was in. He offered to make me his mistress.

I told him to go to hell. He got ugly.

The whole room was laughing. Whispering how an outcast like me had no business showing my face in New York.

I clenched my fists, the sound of their mockery ringing in my ears.

Just then, the entire ballroom went dead silent.

Every head bowed in respect.

Don Lucas, the most feared man in New York, was walking slowly toward us.

He stopped right in front of me. With the whole room watching, he dropped to one knee. He took my hand—the one Nico had squeezed red—and kissed it.

His voice was dangerously low.

“Who hurt my future wife?”

Five years. That’s how long it's been since my ex, Nico Falcone, broke our engagement and my family kicked me out. The next time I see him, he's married to my cousin, Bianca Rossi. He grabs my hand in secret, offering to keep me as his mistress. He has no idea I’m about to marry the most powerful Don of all: Lucas Moretti.

Five years, and I’m back at the New York mafia’s annual charity gala.

“Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in. The Rossi family’s disgraced little artist?”

The mocking voice cut through the ballroom's chatter, sharp and clear.

I stopped and slowly turned.

The senator's daughter, Sophia, stood behind me, a glass of expensive red wine in her hand. Her little circle of friends fanned out behind her, all of them wearing the same hungry look. The look of people ready for a show.

“Five years, Aurora Rossi.” Sophia’s voice was sickly sweet. “You… still have such unique taste.” She paused for effect. “Oh, wait. I forgot. You’re not a Rossi anymore, are you? Jilted. Disowned. Almost ended up in jail, didn't you?”

Her eyes raked over me, from head to toe.

My cargo pants were still dusted with plaster from the church walls. My sneakers were worn from hours spent on my knees, bringing angels back to life.

I’d just come from St. Anthony's in the Bronx. Three months of pro bono work.

But here, in a room drowning in Chanel and Armani, I was a ghost from another world.

“Surprised?” My voice was flat. “The feeling’s mutual.”

“Oh, darling.” She let out a little laugh, raising her voice on purpose. “We’re not the same. I belong here.”

She took a step forward. Too close.

“And you… you look like you’re here to beg.”

Red wine flew from her glass in a perfect arc, hitting my white t-shirt. It soaked in instantly, a crimson stain blooming across my chest.

A collective gasp went through the crowd.

“Oh my god!” Sophia covered her mouth, but her eyes were shining with victory. “Aurora, why did you bump into me? This is a 1982 Lafite!”

She was a decent actress. I’ll give her that.

I glanced down at the stain, then met her eyes again.

“Sorry,” I said, my voice dead calm. “I didn’t see you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Her voice turned shrill. “You did it on purpose! Everyone saw you!”

Heads around us nodded. Of course. No one would cross a senator’s daughter.

“Ladies.”

A deep male voice cut in from behind the crowd.

Everyone fell silent. A path cleared instantly.

Nico Falcone moved toward us. The custom suit fit his tall frame perfectly. Five years hadn’t changed much. His jaw was sharper, but those deep brown eyes were the same.

So familiar it made my chest ache.

“Sophia,” he said, his voice dripping with authority. “Go get a towel.”

“But, Mr. Falcone, she—”

“Now.”

Sophia shot me a hateful glare before scurrying off. The crowd took the hint and drifted away, giving us space.

Nico stood in front of me, looking down.

“Five years, Aurora.”

There was something unreadable in his voice.

“That’s right,” I said.

“You look…” His eyes lingered on my face. “Thinner.”

I didn’t answer.

“Europe wasn’t kind to you, was it?” That classic Nico condescension, wrapped in fake concern. “I hear restoring old paintings doesn’t pay the bills.”

Always assuming everyone was worse off without him.

“I’m doing just fine,” I said.

“Are you?” He stepped closer. “Then why are you here? You wouldn't come to a Five Families gala unless you were desperate to get back in.”

He was so sure of himself. So certain he had me figured out.

“Maybe I just wanted a free glass of champagne.”

He let out a short laugh.

“Still got that fire.” His fingers grazed my cheek. “Aurora… just say the word. I’ll put you in a penthouse overlooking the park. Take care of everything.”

My blood ran cold.

“And the price?”

“No price.” His voice turned soft, intimate. “Just come back to me. You won't have to worry about family politics. You’ll just be my woman.”

His woman.

Not his wife.

His mistress.

“How generous.” I took a step back. “But no.”

His face hardened.

“Aurora.” He shot forward, his hand clamping around my wrist. “Stop playing games. You have nothing left. You think I don't know?”

His hand was warm, but all I felt was disgust.

“Let go of me.”

“You think I haven’t been watching you?” His voice was urgent, raw. “I know everything. The charity work in crumbling churches, the shitty little apartments from Rome to Paris—”

“Aurora!”

A sweet voice cut through the air.

Nico and I both turned.

My cousin, Bianca Rossi—the one who stole him from me—was walking toward us. She wore a deep navy gown, a river of diamonds sparkling at her throat. Five years of marriage had made her look more polished, but I recognized the flicker of alarm in her eyes.

She glided to Nico’s side, linked her arm through his, and gave me a perfect, plastic smile.

“Aurora. I can’t believe you’re here.”

She paused, her eyes darting between us.

“What were you and Nico talking about?”

Nico dropped my wrist like it was on fire.

He immediately turned, pulling Bianca into his side. The move was so smooth it looked rehearsed.

“Baby, there you are.” He kissed her temple. “I was just catching up with Aurora about her… travels.”

Bianca’s smile widened.

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” She pressed closer to Nico, a flash of triumph in her eyes as she looked at me. “Aurora, you know I’ve been so worried about you. We’re cousins, after all.”

The other guests started to drift back toward us.

“Isn’t that the Falcones? I hear you two are set to inherit the family business soon.” A woman dripping in pearls approached them. “Bianca, darling, your charity work is simply divine.”

“Thank you,” Bianca said, dipping her head shyly. She played the part of the adoring wife perfectly.

More people joined the circle of flatterers.

“You’re a lucky man, Nico.”

“That donation to the children’s hospital last month…”

“You two are a perfect match.”

I was the outsider at their little love fest.

“And this is…?” The woman’s eyes slid over to me, her lip curling in distaste.

“My cousin, Aurora Rossi,” Bianca said before I could speak. “She just got back from Europe.”

The whispers started immediately.

“Rossi… isn’t that the one…”

“The scandal from five years ago…”

“Heard she was thrown out…”

“She certainly looks the part…”

Bianca’s face filled with faux concern.

“Aurora, darling, it must have been so hard for you all these years.” Her voice was thick with pity. “I always wanted to help, but you left so suddenly…”

She paused, a sharp glint in her eye.

“But now that you’re back, I know just the thing!” She clapped her hands together. “Mr. Hoffman!”

A fat man in his sixties waddled over. His bald head gleamed under the chandeliers, and his hands were covered in tacky gold rings.

I knew him. Charles Hoffman. A notorious loan shark with a filthy reputation.

“Bianca, my dear.” His voice was as greasy as he looked. “What can I do for you?”

“Mr. Hoffman, I’d love for you to meet my cousin.” Bianca’s grip was like a vise on my arm. “Aurora is quite the art expert. I’m sure you two will find plenty to talk about.”

Charles’s beady little eyes sized me up, and his gaze made my stomach turn.

“An art expert?” He licked his greasy lips. “I’m in the market for a new… protégée. Someone with an eye for the finer things.”

The people around us chuckled knowingly.

I’d had enough.

“Bianca.” I pulled my arm from her grasp, my voice dangerously calm. “Why the rush to marry me off? Worried I came back for him?”

Her smile froze.

“What did you say?”

“You heard me.” I looked around at the silent crowd. “After all, just two minutes ago, your husband was offering to set me up in a penthouse apartment if I’d just say yes.”

Dead silence.

Every eye in the circle ricocheted between the three of us.

Nico’s face turned to stone.

“Aurora, what the hell are you talking about—”

“A penthouse overlooking Central Park,” I added calmly. “His words, not mine.”

Bianca’s eyes instantly welled up. Tears gathered on her lashes.

“Nico…” Her voice trembled, full of hurt and disbelief. “Is that… is that true?”

She looked so fragile, so innocent. A flower in a storm.

The perfect victim.

The crowd looked at her with pity, and at me with disgust.

“That Rossi girl has no shame.”

“How could she say something so cruel?”

“In public, no less…”

Bianca’s tears finally fell. She clutched Nico’s arm like a lifeline.

“I… I was only trying to help her…” she choked out. “I never thought she would do this to me…”

The whole party was now focused on the drama. A charity gala turned into a gossip column.

I didn’t care. I just looked away.

“Enough.”

Nico’s voice was low and furious.

Nico pulled Bianca tight against him, letting her bury her face in his chest.

“Look at you, Aurora.” His gaze cut into me like a knife. “This is why I left you. You’ve always been this vicious, jealous, and out of control.”

Bianca sobbed quietly in his arms, the picture of a wounded bird.

“You come back after five years, and you’re still the same,” he seethed. “You think you’re still the Rossi family’s little princess? Wake up, Aurora. You’re not fit to shine Bianca’s shoes.”

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd.

Then he did something that made everyone gasp.

He grabbed Bianca’s face and kissed her. Hard. Right there in front of everyone.

It wasn’t a polite, social kiss. It was possessive, raw, and meant to be a show.

Bianca looked surprised for a second, then melted into it, wrapping her arms around his neck. They kissed like they wanted the whole world to see how in love they were.

Applause and whistles broke out.

“Now that’s love!”

“So romantic!”

I watched the performance, my face a blank mask.

No pain. No jealousy. Not even anger.

Just a deep, bone-weary exhaustion.

“That’s funny,” I said softly.

My voice wasn't loud, but in the sudden quiet, it carried.

They broke apart. Nico looked at me, a smirk on his face, waiting for me to shatter.

I let a small, cold smile touch my lips. “You know, Bianca? He kisses you the same way he used to kiss me. At the Hamptons lake house.”

The color drained from Bianca’s face.

“He even does that little thing with his thumb,” I continued, my voice sweet as poison. “Tracing your jawline. Just like that. Right, Nico?”

Dead. Silence.

Everyone held their breath.

The Hamptons lake house. The Falcone family’s private retreat. The place Nico and I went after we got engaged.

What was left of it, anyway.

“You…” Bianca’s voice shook. “Why would you bring that up?”

“Because it was our place,” I said, my voice light, like I was talking about the weather. “Every room. Every bed. Every corner. We slept in all of them.”

“Shut up!” Nico exploded. “You have no shame, Aurora!”

“No shame?” I laughed, a short, bitter sound. “That’s rich, coming from you.”

The memory hit me like a tidal wave.

Five years ago. One week before our wedding.

I was standing in the dressing room of the Vera Wang boutique, wearing my custom gown. Ivory silk clung to my body, the long train pooling around me like a cloud.

Nico’s going to love this, I thought, smiling at my reflection.

My phone rang.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry.” Nico’s voice was tight, rushed. “Something came up. An emergency meeting. I can’t make it to the fitting.”

“But you promised…”

“I know, but this is important. I’ll make it up to you, okay?”

He hung up before I could reply.

I was disappointed, but I understood. He was busy.

After changing, I was scrolling through my phone.

Bianca had posted a new story.

The photo was blurry, taken from a strange angle. A man’s muscular back. A woman’s slender arm wrapped around him.

Both naked.

I tapped the screen to play the video.

And then I heard it. A man’s voice, thick with lust. A voice I knew better than my own.

“Bianca… God, you’re so fucking beautiful…”

It was Nico.

My hands started to shake.

I stared at the background of the photo.

It was the master bedroom of the Hamptons lake house.

Our bedroom.

The room where we’d made love countless times.

I didn’t even bother to change. I ran out of the boutique in the thousand-dollar fitting dress.

The driver stared at me.

“Miss, you—”

“The Hamptons!” I screamed. “Now! Go!”

An hour later, I threw open the doors to the house. I could hear them. Disgusting, wet sounds.

I walked up the stairs, each step a knife in my heart.

The master bedroom door was ajar.

I saw it all.

Nico on top of Bianca. Tangled together.

In our bed.

In the bed where he’d promised me forever.

“Nico…” My voice was a broken whisper.

They flew apart.

Bianca scrambled for the sheets to cover herself.

Nico’s face was white.

“Aurora… I can explain…”

“Explain what?” I stared at them. “Explain why you’re fucking my cousin in our bed?”

“It’s not what it looks like…”

“Not what it looks like?” I laughed, a hysterical, tearing sound. “What is it then? Role-play?”

“Aurora, calm down…” Nico got off the bed, tried to come toward me.

“Don’t touch me!” I backed away. “You were just inside her!”

“Just listen to me…”

“I’ve heard enough!” I turned and ran.

Down the stairs, through the living room, out into the garden.

I just ran, the white dress trailing behind me.

But the shock was too much for my body.

A white-hot pain ripped through my stomach. My legs gave out.

I collapsed on the stone steps at the entrance to the house.

A river of red soaked the ivory silk of my dress.

“My baby…” I cried, my voice raw with despair.

Nico ran out. He saw the blood and his face went even paler.

“Call an ambulance!” he screamed at Bianca.

But it was too late.

At the hospital, the doctor told me the baby was gone.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “You’ve had a miscarriage.”

I lay on the cold hospital bed, staring at nothing.

Two days later, the elders of both families held a meeting.

“This cannot get out,” the Falcone patriarch said. “The alliance must proceed.”

“But…” I said, my voice weak.

“No buts.” Vincent Rossi, my father, looked at me without an ounce of sympathy. “You will marry Nico. The families depend on it.”