"Don't you worry, Miss Gallo. Your mother's trust is completely separate from the Gallo family estate. It has the highest level of legal protection. In seven days, you will officially inherit everything. Mr. Lorenzo and his… new wife, won't be able to touch a dime."

The lawyer's words were the only good news I'd had in days.

I hung up and curled up on the sofa. My mind flashed back to when my mother died. I had locked myself in my room for days until Lucas broke through like a ray of light. He talked to me gently, used sex to let me burn off the grief, and when I was so desperate I put a gun to my own head, he lunged and knocked it away.

He just smiled through the pain of a gunshot wound in his shoulder. "Protecting you is my mission," he’d said.

Looking back now, it was all just a trap.

My phone lit up. A message from Sofia.

It was a picture of her and Lucas’s marriage certificate. Their smiles were blinding.

Next was a video. It was dark and shaky. All I could make out was Lucas, seemingly passed out drunk on a sofa, with Sofia whispering in his ear.

The video was blurry, but the voice note she sent after was crystal clear:

"Listen, sister. Hear that? Lucas is saying my name… He says fucking you is like a chore, stiff and boring. But with me? I’m the only one who can make him feel truly wild."

Sofia's triumphant laugh echoed in the recording, followed by the sound of a soft, intimate moan.

"Oh, and by the way," she added, "he told me that after watching you bully me all those years ago, he swore he'd grind you under his heel one day. And now, he has."

Bile rose in my throat. I stumbled to the bathroom and heaved until I was empty.

Lucas came in and saw the mess I was. His face filled with worry as he held me.

"What's wrong, Bella? Still feeling sick?" he cooed, rubbing my back. "I'll go get you your favorite candy."

He actually left. He came back with a bag from my favorite candy shop, a good thirty-minute drive away. He didn't even send one of his men.

Lucas unwrapped the candies one by one and fed them to me, his eyes full of devotion.

"Taking care of you and our baby… this is true happiness."

Such a good actor. If I hadn't heard those words myself, I might have believed him again.

"Are you hiding anything from me, Lucas?"

He saved my life once. For that alone, I'd give him one chance to come clean.

"Of course not," Lucas said, looking shocked. He pinched my nose playfully. "I swear, I've never hidden anything from you. I love you, sweetheart."

I didn't say another word.

That night, he lay beside me as usual, his hand resting gently on my stomach.

In the middle of the night, I woke up with a jolt, just like always.

Ever since my mother died, I’ve had nightmares about finding her in the bathtub, the water stained crimson.

Lucas’s eyes were still closed, but his body reacted instantly. He pulled me close, his hand stroking my back. "I'm here," he whispered. "Don't be afraid. It's okay…"

His tenderness felt like a blade twisting in my chest. How could a man who seemed to love me this much betray me so completely?

I pretended to be soothed, my breathing evening out. Half an hour later, he slipped out of bed, grabbed his phone, and tiptoed out of the room.

I opened my eyes, my gaze like ice.

I knew where he was going. He couldn't wait to be with his new wife.

I looked at the last picture Sofia had sent me.

On Lucas’s shoulder, where a white rose tattoo—a symbol for me, meant to cover the scar from the bullet he took for me—used to be.

The white rose was gone. Scrawled over it, raw and crude, was the name "Sofia."

That last, fragile piece of hope I was clinging to shattered.

I found the number from the mysterious text message.

My fingers typed out a simple reply and hit send.

"I'll marry you."

The next day was my birthday. It was also the anniversary of my mother's death.

It was a day I did my best to erase from the calendar, but my father threw a party anyway, right under my nose.

"Everyone, quiet down!"

My father’s voice boomed through the speakers, and the music died.

He held Carla's hand high in the air, a proud, gloating smile I'd never seen on him before. "I'd like to introduce you all to the new matriarch of the Gallo family—my wife, Carla Gallo."

My world went silent.

The guests' whispers crawled into my ears like snakes.

I looked around the house I grew up in. It was completely different.

My mother's favorite paintings were replaced with Carla's tacky self-portraits. The scent of white roses my mother loved was gone, choked out by a thick, cloying perfume.

They were erasing every trace of my mother.

I started to walk forward, to stop this whole farce, but Lucas grabbed my arm. "Bella, don't. Think about the family. Think about the bigger picture."

"The bigger picture?" I scoffed. "My father is marrying his mistress and announcing it on the day my mother died, and you want me to swallow it for the 'bigger picture'? Or do you have your own reasons?"

"I just want you to respect your father's decision," Lucas said, his tone turning weary, like I was being unreasonable. "We're all going to be family soon. This is not the time to be selfish."

Just then, Sofia walked over.

She wore a tight maternity dress, one hand resting proudly on her small baby bump, the other latched onto Lucas's arm like she owned him.

"Brother-in-law, my sister has always been this dramatic. The pregnancy has made her even worse," she said with an innocent smile, but her voice was pure poison. "I'm pregnant too, but I'm happy every day. Maybe it's because my baby's father is actually excited for him to be born."

She was taking a shot at me.

Implying the child in my belly was an unwanted mistake.

But I didn't have time to react to her taunts. My eyes locked onto her neck.

She was wearing a sapphire necklace. It was my mother's, a Gallo family heirloom passed down to the matriarch. My mother gave it to me on my eighteenth birthday, telling me to wear it on my wedding day.

And now it was on the neck of a thief's daughter.

Blood rushed to my head. Something inside me snapped.

"Take it off," I said, my voice shaking with rage.

Sofia feigned surprise, clutching the necklace. "Sister, what are you talking about?"

"I said, give it back!" I took a step closer, my eyes burning into her. "You don't deserve to touch it!"

"Bella, calm down!" Lucas pulled me back, but he shielded Sofia behind him. "It's just a necklace. If you like it, I'll buy you ten more. Don't make a scene."

"I don't want another one," I said, each word clipped and cold. "I want that one. Lucas, make her take it off."

Seeing her advantage, Sofia stepped towards me. "It’s okay," she said loudly for everyone to hear. "If my sister wants it, she can have it."

Then she leaned in and whispered, so only I could hear, "Everything that belonged to your mother is mine now. Including your man."

She said it with a smirk, deliberately pushing her stomach out. Then, as everyone watched in shock, she let out a sharp cry and threw herself backwards.

"Ahh—!"

She hit the floor hard, clutching her stomach in agony.

"My stomach… my baby…"

It happened so fast, everyone assumed I had pushed her.

Lucas lunged to her side, scooping her up as Carla ran over, screaming.

"Bella, why would you do this?" Sofia's tears came on command. She buried her face in Lucas's chest, sobbing. "I know you've always hated me… you and your friends ganged up on me in school… but I never thought you'd go after an unborn child…"

Rewriting history. Just like always.

The "bullying" was nothing more than Sofia getting caught trying to play three different rich kids at once. She got slapped around for it and kicked out of school.

But no one believed me.

Every glare in the room was a knife, stabbing me with disgust, with judgment. They were all enjoying the show.

I looked at Lucas. My last hope.

But his eyes held only disappointment, a cold, condescending judgment.

For the first time, his voice was hard as he gave me an order.

"Bella. Apologize."

"Apologize?"

I repeated his word, my voice laced with disbelief. It was the most insane thing I'd ever heard.

"Why should I apologize?" My voice was quiet, but cold as ice. "For something I never did?"

Lucas’s brow furrowed, his anger rising.

Before he could speak, Carla rushed forward and dropped to her knees at my father's feet, her sobs wracking her body.

"Lorenzo! Look at her! She still won't admit it! She can't stand the sight of me and my daughter!"

She looked up, her face streaked with tears, and pointed at me. "Do you think this is the first time? It’s not! She’s hated us since her mother died! She once sent men to our apartment to beat us, to warn us to stay away from you!"

My father and Lucas stared, stunned.

"I was too scared to tell you. I didn't want to cause you any trouble…" Carla fumbled in her purse and pulled out a phone, playing a recording. "But I recorded the call she made to me later. Listen!"

My own voice, distorted with fury, filled the air: "You and your bastard daughter better disappear! If you don't, I swear you'll pay for everything you've done!"

It was the call I’d made after discovering the vicious texts she’d sent my mother before she died.

But now, paired with Carla's performance, my threat sounded like a confession.

I looked from my father to Lucas, my eyes pleading with them to see the truth, to see me.

But my father, Lorenzo Gallo, only gathered Carla into his arms, comforting her.

And my fiancé, Lucas Moretti, had his eyes only on the weak, trembling Sofia. He scooped her into his arms, yelling, "Doctor! Get a doctor, now!"

No one looked at me.

As Lucas walked past me, he paused. He finally turned his head, and the eyes I had once loved so much were now filled with nothing but icy disappointment.

"Bella," he said. "I have spoiled you rotten."

He turned to his men. "Take her downstairs. Let her think about what she's done."

With that, he walked away, carrying Sofia, and didn't look back.

I was dragged to a cold, damp cell in the basement.

The door was locked from the outside. There were no windows, only a single dim bulb hanging from the ceiling.

The first day, no one brought food. The second day, nothing.

I finally understood. This wasn't about giving me time to think. It was punishment.

Later, a young guard took pity on me. He whispered that the new Mrs. Gallo had given the order, that she'd paid everyone off to make me suffer.

On the third day, my body ached and my stomach burned with hunger, but the pain in my heart was a festering wound.

That afternoon, during a shift change, I saw my chance and I ran.

I escaped that house of horrors.

But the world outside was just another kind of hell.

I went to a bank to get cash, only to find all my credit cards and bank accounts had been frozen. I had nothing. No money, nowhere to go.

The wind cut through my thin formal dress. I was a mess, wandering the streets.

People stared, their looks a mix of curiosity and disgust.

"Hey, isn't that her? The Gallo girl."

"Yeah, the one Sofia posted about. The one who tried to steal her own sister's husband."

"Shameless. Trying to trap him with a baby."

"Serves her right. I heard she used to bully her own sister. Look at her now, like a stray dog."

Sofia had already launched her attack on social media, painting me as a vindictive homewrecker.

The whispers and insults of strangers hit me like stones. I covered my ears and ran.

I ducked into a dark alleyway, desperate to escape, but a group of street thugs blocked my path.

"Well, well, look what we have here. Isn't it the high-and-mighty Gallo girl?" the leader sneered, closing in on me. "What's the matter? Get kicked out? Why don't you come play with us for a while?"

I backed away in terror until my back hit a cold brick wall. There was nowhere left to run.

In my desperation, I thought of my last lifeline. With trembling hands, I pulled out my phone and dialed the familiar number.

Lucas, please, pick up…

It rang three times before the call was mercilessly disconnected.

My last shred of hope turned to ash.

Just as a grimy hand reached for my face—

SCREEECH—

The shriek of tires tore through the alley's silence. A black Rolls-Royce stopped at the entrance, its headlights blinding.

The door opened. A tall, imposing figure stepped out, silhouetted against the light.

He wore a perfectly tailored black suit. His steps were steady, each one radiating a suffocating power.

It was Arthur Russo. The King of Chicago.

The thugs blanched. "Arthur Russo! What are you doing here?"

Arthur Russo ignored them. His gaze cut right through the scum and landed on me.

Then, he raised his hand. A black pistol was pointed directly at the leader's head.

"Who gave you the balls," he said, his voice deadly calm, "to touch my woman?"