I am Rowan Donovan, the Principessa of Boston’s ruling family and the Don’s only daughter. For six years, I hid my identity, devoting myself to a penniless Julian Thorne and helping him claw his way to the top of the city’s elite.

I thought I would be his bride. Instead, he proposed to Seraphina Ricci, the heiress of a rival family, for the whole world to see.

The man who once swore me a lifetime of love knelt before another woman, pledging himself to her in a public marriage alliance.

My father, Don Donovan, confronted him. "Rowan is your woman. What the hell do you think you're doing, marrying someone else?"

Julian’s expression was cold, dismissive.

"She's a nobody, some girl off the streets. She's not fit to be my wife. She was there when I had nothing, but she can't give me the future Seraphina can."

Hiding behind the door, I felt my heart shatter. I finally understood. I was just a pawn, a piece he could discard without a second thought.

I looked at my heartbroken father and forced a bitter smile. "Papa, I gambled and lost."

I accepted the marriage my father had arranged for me long ago. But on the eve of my wedding to Cillian Kavanaugh, Julian knelt before me, his eyes wild with regret.

"Rowan, I was wrong. Please, don't marry him."

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1

The howling wind felt like it was stripping away my last illusions about love.

I gazed at my heartbroken father and forced a bitter smile. "Papa, I gambled and lost."

My father gently stroked the back of my head. "In five days, Cillian Kavanaugh will come for you."

I wiped away my tears and gave a firm nod. Once my father was gone, I returned to the silent penthouse Julian and I once shared.

Not long after, he strode in. Spotting me by the window, he wrapped his arms around me from behind, his lips brushing against my neck. His breath was hot as his hands slid expertly beneath my clothes, exploring my skin.

I sensed the feral hunger in him and went limp, letting him take what he wanted. He was a ravenous wolf, thrusting into me again and again until I was drowning in the sheer force of his need.

As I was drifting off in a daze, he kissed my cheek, his voice a low murmur. "Baby, I’ve got some cash for you. And a one-way ticket to Miami. Go take a vacation for a while."

I opened my swollen eyes, fighting to contain the storm raging inside me. "What about you?"

He gazed at me, his smile deepening. "I'll be right here waiting for you."

I gave a slight nod, dropping my gaze to hide the bitter disappointment.

He was lying. He wasn't waiting for me. He was getting married.

I am the sole heiress to the Donovan family, Boston's ruling name. And I fell for Julian Thorne when he was a nobody. For six years, I hid who I was, using my family’s influence from the shadows to build him into a king. Everyone thought I would be his queen. Instead, he cast me aside for Seraphina Ricci, the jewel of a rival family.

The scene from earlier today flashed through my mind—him on one knee before another woman, pledging his future, then tearing me down in front of my own father.

"She's a nobody, some girl off the streets, not fit to be my wife... Why should I settle for her?"

His words were knives. The knife I’d taken for him, the bullet I’d blocked—they were nothing more than rungs on the ladder he used to climb right over me.

Sensing my silence, Julian sighed, a flicker of irritation in his voice. "Don't worry, I'll take care of you. All your expenses in Miami will be covered."

He paused, his tone hardening. "But you need to stay away from Seraphina. This marriage is important, and I can't have anyone messing it up. Especially not you."

His tone was deceptively gentle, but the threat was unmistakable. I took a deep breath, met his eyes, and said, "Alright."

He let out a sigh of relief, pulling me into a tight embrace. "I'll stay with you tonight."

The words had barely left his lips when his phone rang. He glanced at the screen, saw Seraphina's name, and immediately let go of me to answer.

"Darling, there’s an emergency at the club! You have to get down here and help me!"

Julian shot to his feet, snatching his car keys. He rushed out in such a hurry that he left his favorite leather jacket draped over a chair.

I stared at his retreating back, a cold numbness spreading through me. He really did care for her.

I’d always known she held a piece of his heart, but six years ago, I’d chased him anyway, consequences be damned. He was just a street punk then, the one everyone picked on, and I fought them all for him.

Once, a rival crew came looking for trouble. To get back a ledger they’d stolen, I was shoved from a shipping container at the docks, landing me with a concussion. Another time, his enemies cornered him, and I threw myself in front of a knife meant for his gut. It tore through my abdomen, leaving an ugly, puckered scar.

Back then, Julian had clutched my blood-soaked body, tears streaming down his face as he swore, "Baby, I will never let you down. Ever."

I thought he loved me. For six years, I poured every part of myself into building him up, only to be told I wasn't worthy.

If that was how he saw me, then there was no reason to love him anymore. We were done.

Sleep wouldn't come.

No matter how I tried, my mind refused to quiet. Images of Julian and Seraphina burned behind my eyelids—the way he must be holding her now, whispering comforts into her ear.

Finally, I threw back the covers and started packing.

The next morning, I was jolted awake by a commotion in the living room. Annoyed, I opened the bedroom door to see Julian's men hauling away a wooden box.

"Are we really trashing this? What if Miss Donovan asks?"

"She’s getting tossed out on her ass. Who gives a damn?"

"Exactly. The new Mrs. Thorne is moving in. This whole place is getting gutted. Everything goes."

My heart seized. I lunged forward to stop them. "Don't you dare throw that out!"

But Julian caught my arm, his voice nonchalant. "It's just some wooden carving. It's gone. I'll buy you a more expensive one."

I frowned, a fresh wave of disappointment washing over me. He’d forgotten. It was the first good-luck charm I had ever carved for him. I dropped my gaze, yanked my arm free, and gave in. "Fine. Throw it away."

His gaze was indifferent, his tone as cold as ice. "The penthouse needs to be cleared out and redecorated. Your flight is in three days. Until then, you'll stay at a motel."

I stared at him, shocked he was so eager to get rid of me. There wasn't a shred of warmth in his eyes. To him, I was just a pet he'd grown tired of.

As his men drove me away, my chest felt heavy as lead. Through the rear window, I watched Julian standing in the doorway, personally directing the renovations, completely absorbed in preparing for his new life. I let out a bitter, silent laugh.

A pain so sharp it felt like a fist clenching around my heart ripped through me.

The car rolled to a stop in a desolate district of abandoned warehouses by the port. I glanced at the driver in confusion just as my door was wrenched open. Two Soldatos grabbed me, dragging me roughly from the car.

And there, standing by the roadside with an air of regal arrogance, was Seraphina Ricci. A knot of dread tightened in my stomach. She was stunning, a woman born to be at the center of a storm of power. No wonder Julian would give up everything for her.

When she saw me, her eyes swept over me with undisguised contempt.

"Julian was right. You are utterly unremarkable. A plain, forgettable girl who could never belong in our world. No wonder he only ever saw you as a plaything."

I frowned, my voice sharp with displeasure. "Then I suppose you’re the next plaything in line."

Her face darkened. Her hand cracked across my cheek.

"You're nothing but his cast-off whore, while I am the woman he is going to marry. You will learn your place and disappear."

My cheek stung, but my eyes went cold. Without a flicker of hesitation, I slapped her back.

She froze, her hand flying to her cheek, and then she shrieked with fury. "How dare you hit me!"

Seraphina raised her hand to strike me again, but I shoved her hard. She stumbled back, lost her footing, and collapsed onto the grimy asphalt.

She pointed a trembling finger at me, roaring at her men, "Hit her! Beat her senseless!"

As the two Soldatos advanced, their expressions menacing, I snapped, "I'm still with Julian. You touch me, and he'll kill you."

They hesitated.

Just then, Julian came running over, his face etched with concern as he rushed to help Seraphina from the ground.

"Seraphina, are you hurt?"

She bit her lip, a picture of wounded innocence, and showed him her palms, scraped raw by the gravel. His face instantly hardened, and his furious gaze snapped to me.

I opened my mouth to explain, but before a single word could escape, his hand swung through the air and struck me hard across the face.

"His men might not dare to touch you," he snarled, "but I do!"