I couldn't watch anymore.

While everyone was celebrating Lorenzo's win, I slipped out of the club.

No one noticed I was gone. Not even Lorenzo.

His eyes only saw Juliana.

Back at the apartment, I poured a glass of red wine, trying to calm the storm inside me.

But then my phone lit up. A new post from Juliana.

It was a picture of her and Lorenzo on a beach, the night wind whipping through their hair.

Lorenzo was holding her from behind, both of them watching a massive firework display light up the sky.

The caption: Finally, someone to watch the fireworks with. A perfect night.

My hand trembled.

Lorenzo had never set off fireworks for me.

In ten years, I'd asked so many times. He always said it was childish, a waste of time.

But for Juliana, he'd light up the whole damn sky.

I threw my phone aside, forcing the pain down.

It was starting to feel numb. Like my heart had been stabbed so many times it had forgotten how to bleed.

I managed to change into my nightgown and crawl into bed.

Just as I was drifting off, I heard a key in the lock.

Lorenzo was back.

I closed my eyes, pretending to be asleep.

He walked into the bedroom, smelling of booze and salty sea air.

"Bella," he whispered.

I didn't move.

He stripped down, climbed into bed, and wrapped his arms around me from behind.

"I know you're awake," his voice was slurred. "Why'd you leave tonight without saying anything?"

I stayed silent.

His hands started to roam, fueled by alcohol and urgency.

His kiss tasted of bitter whiskey and another woman's perfume.

I didn't fight him.

I used to melt at his touch. But tonight, my head was clear.

This was it. A goodbye.

A secret funeral for ten years of my stupid love. At least he was good in bed.

My eyes were wide open. I watched the control drain from his face, the raw hunger in his eyes. I even moved with him, giving him every trick I'd learned over the last decade.

He was rougher than ever, like he wanted to crush me right into him.

Then, at the very end, he breathed her name against my ear.

"Jules..."

I went cold.

I stopped moving. Went completely still.

Thank you, Lorenzo.

Thank you for finally killing the last piece of me that still loved you. And for doing it so brutally.

I shoved him off me.

He stopped, dazed, and stared at me. "Bella..." He tried to explain.

"Get out," I said. My voice was ice. No emotion at all.

"Bella, I was drunk..."

"I said, get out." It wasn't a request. It was an order.

He stared into my eyes and found nothing there. No anger. No sadness. Just a dead, empty space.

He finally stumbled out of the room.

I curled up under the covers. Not a single tear fell. And then I slept.

After ten years, the dream was finally over.

The next morning, a text from Lorenzo lit up my phone. "I've arranged the engagement party for five days from now. It will be grand. Be there."

I stared at the message and wanted to laugh.

He was playing house with Juliana and planning an engagement party with me.

Who the hell did he think I was?

As I was thinking, my phone pinged again. A new post from Juliana's private account.

It was a photo of her and Lorenzo in a searing, passionate kiss.

The marks on her neck were dark and angry.

The caption read: He was so worried when I told him I wasn't feeling well. Sent me straight home to rest. My hero.

I stared at the timestamp. 11 PM last night.

Lorenzo didn't get to my place until 2 AM.

So after being with her, he came to me and used me like a release valve.

And in the heat of the moment, he called out her name.

I shut off my phone and walked to the bathroom.

Staring at my reflection, I thought of the Isabella from ten years ago.

Back then, I was the most dazzling mafia princess in Chicago.

Men fell at my feet. Women seethed with jealousy.

I could have anything. The best jewels, the most beautiful clothes, the fastest cars.

But I chose Lorenzo.

For him, I gave up everyone else.

For him, I became a pathetic stand-in.

For him, I lost myself.

But it was almost over. Just four more days of this hell, and I would be that princess, Isabella, once more.

Four days until our ten-year anniversary. Four days until Lorenzo's second attempt at an engagement party.

I sat in my studio, a videotape in my hand.

This was my big gift for Lorenzo.

A souvenir he would never, ever forget.

For the next two days, Lorenzo didn't come home.

But he texted me every day.

"I promise I won't let you down."

"Tomorrow, I'll give you the perfect engagement party."

"You'll be the most beautiful fiancée in New York."

I stared at the messages, my nails digging into my palms.

Perfect? Beautiful?

He was juggling me and Juliana and had the nerve to talk about perfection?

Meanwhile, Juliana's posts were like knives in my heart.

A photo of Lorenzo with her at my family home in Chicago, having dinner with my father and stepmother.

Juliana had her arm linked through Lorenzo's, smiling like a flower in bloom.

My father was clapping Lorenzo on the shoulder. My stepmother was serving them food.

The three of them, laughing and talking.

They looked like a perfect little family.

And me, his own daughter, I was the outsider.

That used to tear me apart. Now, I just watched. Cold. I burned every detail into my memory.

It's okay, Juliana. Enjoy your moment.

It won't last long.

The day before the party, just when I thought I wouldn't see him again, Lorenzo pulled up to my apartment.

"My mother wants to see you."

I didn't want to go, but he insisted.

As I got into the passenger seat, I smelled a perfume that wasn't mine.

I closed my eyes, telling myself to ignore it. One more day and I'd be free.

Then my hand slipped down into the gap of the seat. My fingers brushed against lace.

Black lace. A pair of panties.

I snatched my hand back like I’d been burned.

Lorenzo was focused on driving. He didn't notice a thing.

My stomach churned.

I could picture it. Juliana, sitting right here. Lorenzo's hands on her.

Her soft moans as he kissed her, smearing her lipstick.

The panties torn off.

Right here in this car.

Just like us, over the years.

"Ugh..." I gagged.

"What's wrong?" Lorenzo asked, clueless.

He opened the console cooler and held out a coffee.

"You look pale. Drink this."

I shook my head. That's when I saw it.

A half-used tube of Chanel lipstick.

There was still a lip print on the side.

"Car sick," I gritted out. "I'm sitting in the back."

I rolled down the window, and by the time we arrived, the sickly-sweet smell was finally gone.

Mrs. Moretti was waiting in the living room.

Her eyes sized me up, and she wasn't pleased.

"Isabella." Her voice was pure ice. "You made our family a joke. All of New York is laughing at us because of that disaster of an engagement party."

She lifted her coffee cup, a picture of elegance.

"I know Lorenzo has been seeing that girl. Men need their... distractions. But this engagement is business. It's about the family name."

She set the cup down.

Her eyes narrowed.

"I don't care what you have to do. Tomorrow goes off without a hitch. You need to remember, it is a privilege to become a Moretti wife. Everyone knows you're his fiancée. We're giving you this title. So you will be grateful, and you will do your part for this family."

She wanted me to fall in line.

To accept his little slut on the side, just so I could keep the ring on my finger.

She expected me to be grateful for the scraps.

I looked down, hiding the sarcasm in my eyes.

"I understand, Mrs. Moretti." I forced a smile.

I thought about the little gift I had waiting for them. All of Juliana's dirty secrets.

A real smile touched my lips then. A cold one.

Let's see how proud you are tomorrow, when the Moretti name is dragged through the mud all over again.

On the way back, Lorenzo's phone rang.

"Jules? ...What? Your stomach hurts? I'm on my way!"

He was instantly on edge, like it was a life-or-death call.

He'd never been that worried about me when I was sick.

"Go be with your sister," my voice was eerily calm. "She needs you."

Lorenzo let out a breath, as if my permission was some great gift.

"You're so understanding."

Understanding?

I wanted to laugh.

After tomorrow, you'll be nothing to me.

...

Back at my apartment, a beautiful box was waiting at the door.

The wedding dress.

A text from Lorenzo came through: "For tomorrow's party. You'll be the most beautiful fiancée. I promise."

The most beautiful fiancée.

I picked up the videotape, a crazed light in my eyes.

You want a perfect engagement party, Lorenzo?

I'll give you one you'll never forget.

The next day, I was up at six.

I looked at the horribly ironic wedding dress and had one of my men deliver it to Juliana.

"But Miss, Don Lorenzo said it was for you..."

"Just say Lorenzo changed his mind."

After hanging up, I took out the package I'd prepared.

The videotape.

I wrote a few words on it: "A gift for the happy couple."

Then I had it sent to the hotel hosting the party tonight.

My people were already in place. They would play it right on schedule.

With that done, I sat on my sofa and waited for the show.

Around noon, Juliana posted.

She was wearing my wedding dress, twirling in front of a mirror.

"Thank you for the surprise, Lorenzo! I guess he wants me to be his fiancée after all."

I stared at the photo, a cold smile on my lips.

Enjoy these last few hours, dear sister.

I picked up my suitcase and walked to the door.

The private jet was waiting.

Goodbye, New York.

Goodbye, Lorenzo Moretti.

---

Lorenzo's POV

I stood in the ballroom, pleased with the setup.

Five hundred white roses, crystal chandeliers, a champagne tower.

Everyone who matters in New York is about to see Isabella become mine.

I know I've been cold. So what?

Jules was the one. I loved her before I was heir to anything. The only reason I gave Isabella the time of day was because she looked like her.

But ten years is ten years. I'm not an idiot. Of course I love her now. I'll marry her. I want her by my side forever.

But then Jules came back. Vanished for years and showed up the day I was supposed to make Isabella my fiancée.

I knew it would hurt her. But she'd never really be angry with me. She'd understand.

After all, I remember how she chased me. The proud Chicago princess, following me like a madwoman for a solid year. She took a fucking bullet for me without even thinking.

A woman who would die for me isn't going to leave over something small.

I want Jules. But there's no way I'm losing Isabella. She lives for me.

Isabella wants the title? Fine. I'll make her the perfect Moretti wife.

And Jules can be my woman on the side. Forever.

Why choose? I'll have them both.

This party... this is my promise to her. My payment for her trouble.

I can't wait to see the tears in her eyes when she realizes it.

"Don Lorenzo," Marco approached me. "The guests have arrived. Your fiancée is ready."

I straightened my tie, ready to go get Isabella.

But as I walked backstage, I saw a familiar figure.

Juliana.

She was wearing a white wedding dress, a blissful smile on her face.

"Jules?" I froze. "What are you doing here? Where's Isabella?"

"Lorenzo!" She threw herself into my arms, beaming. "I knew this dress was for me! Bella sent it over. She said you'd changed your mind!"

My mind went blank. A sick feeling twisted in my gut.

Just then, the big screens flickered to life.

But it wasn't the romantic slideshow of me and Isabella.

It was grainy surveillance footage. Of Juliana, from over a decade ago.

She was in a café, talking to a friend. Her face was a mask of contempt.

"Lorenzo? He's a nobody. Hasn't even locked down his place in the family yet," she sneered. "Why would I waste my time? The real prize is the Volkov heir. When I'm Mrs. Volkov, a guy like Lorenzo won't be worthy of shining my shoes."

The room erupted in gasps. I stared at the screen, unable to believe it.

But it kept playing. The next clip showed her faking a heart attack to scam some other rich guy out of a sports car.

"No... turn it off!" Juliana screamed, her face white as a sheet.

The final clip was just audio. Her voice, on the phone with a friend after the Volkovs threw her out. Broke and desperate.

"I miscarried. The kid wasn't enough to make him stay... I have to go back to New York. That idiot Lorenzo is still hung up on me. He's the Don now. I'm going back to get what's mine."

"Turn it off! TURN IT OFF!" she shrieked, lunging for the control booth, but it was too late.

She crumpled to the floor, shaking. "Lorenzo... it's not real... Isabella set me up..."

I just stood there, frozen.

Then I felt my phone buzz.

A text.

From Isabella.

"Lorenzo, this is goodbye. Thank you for showing me what true love isn't. The tape is my gift to you both. May you and Juliana live happily ever after. —Isabella"