To protect my boyfriend, Nico, the illegitimate son of our allies, the Moretti family, from their internal power struggles, I agreed to leave New York with him.

But on the eve of my adoptive father, the Don of the Falcone family, signing our transfer orders, he backed out.

Through the hidden door of the cigar lounge, I heard his right-hand man tease him:

"So you really kept up that act for three months just to get rid of the princess?"

"But she's your childhood sweetheart. You really have the heart to some miserable fishing village in the Baltics all by herself?"

Nico's voice was nonchalant. "It's just an outpost across the pond. How far can it be?"

"Scarlett is too controlling. If I don't get her out of the picture, how am I supposed to get any breathing room? Besides, I need to put Chloe at ease."

I stood behind that hidden door for a long time that night, my grip on the doorknob tightening until my knuckles were white, before I finally let go.

I turned and walked away, pulling out my tablet to change my flight plan.

I changed the destination from the official plan of that desolate Baltic outpost to a seat at the High Table in Sicily, which is the absolute center of old-world Mafia power.

Everyone seemed to have forgotten.

I am the princess of the Falcone family. And he is nothing but filth from the gutter.

We were never a match.

To protect my boyfriend, Nico, the illegitimate son of our allies, the Moretti family, from their internal power struggles, I agreed to leave New York with him.

But on the eve of my adoptive father, the Don of the Falcone family, signing our transfer orders, he backed out.

Through the hidden door of the cigar lounge, I heard his right-hand man tease him:

"So you really kept up that act for three months just to get rid of the princess?"

"But she's your childhood sweetheart. You really have the heart to some miserable fishing village in the Baltics all by herself?"

Nico's voice was nonchalant. "It's just an outpost across the pond. How far can it be?"

"Scarlett is too controlling. If I don't get her out of the picture, how am I supposed to get any breathing room? Besides, I need to put Chloe at ease."

I stood behind that hidden door for a long time that night, my grip on the doorknob tightening until my knuckles were white, before I finally let go.

I turned and walked away, pulling out my tablet to change my flight plan.

I changed the destination from the official plan of that desolate Baltic outpost to a seat at the High Table in Sicily, which is the absolute center of old-world Mafia power.

Everyone seemed to have forgotten.

I am the princess of the Falcone family. And he is nothing but filth from the gutter.

We were never a match.

...

The moment I heard the truth, the blood in my veins turned to ice.

For the past month, Nico had been beaten in underground casinos, "accidentally" wounded during cargo drops, and humiliated by low-level soldiers, held down in the mud.

It was all an elaborate, absurd charade.

And every time, I was the one who rushed to his defense.

I used my name and my status to shield him from all of it.

I even begged my adoptive father for this transfer order to that wasteland, all for him.

That day, after having whiskey thrown in his face, he had grabbed my sleeve, looking helpless. "Scarlett, let's go together. Once we're out there, I promise I'll give you a better life even if we have to start from nothing."

Nico and I were childhood sweethearts. He'd been living with the Falcones ever since the Moretti family's decline.

We hadn't been apart in over a decade, and besides, I'd fallen for him long ago. I never imagined marrying anyone else.

For so long, I had blamed myself, thinking he suffered all that humiliation because he was with me.

My heart ached for him then, a mix of pity and guilt.

I knew staying in New York was my best option, but I impulsively promised him, "Don't be afraid. I'd follow you to hell and back."

But only now did I understand it was all an elaborate act, staged just to get rid of me.

I couldn't help but wonder, did Nico really loathe me that much?

After all, I'd always believed he felt the same way about me as I did about him.

Inside the private room, the clink of ice in expensive whiskey glasses sounded sharp and grating.

"But Scarlett's really fallen for you. Aren't you worried that lying to her like this will be the end for you two?"

"Hey, don't say I didn't warn you. Scarlett's a real catch in our circles. The line of guys waiting for a shot with her is a mile long."

"Her?" Nico scoffed, as if he'd just heard the funniest joke in the world.

"She'd take a bullet for me. Hell, she'd get beaten black and blue for me and still wouldn't back down. You think she's ever going to leave me?"

Someone muttered, "But what if? Scarlett's not one to be messed with."

Nico's tone was lazy and contemptuous. "There is no 'what if.' Besides me, when have you ever seen her give anyone else the time of day?"

His voice was laced with a casual disdain.

"All she does is follow me around all day. Even a damn puppy isn't that clingy."

The room erupted in laughter.

Each laugh was like a sharp slap across the face of my pathetic pride.

I wanted to run.

But my feet felt nailed to the floor, forcing me to listen, to feel the pain.

Someone flattered Nico:

"I've never seen a guy work so hard to push away a woman who adores him. You're really something else, man. Why not just be straight with her?"

Nico took a sip of his drink, his voice drifting through the crack in the door. "Scarlett's too much. It's suffocating just being seen with her. But a clean break wouldn't be easy."

His tone shifted. "Besides, Chloe is so fragile. She only feels safe when I'm with her."

"True," someone agreed. "Scarlett's beautiful, but she's cold as ice. A delicate little flower like Chloe is a lot more appreciative."

"You've got the moves. Using the Falcone's resources to keep your new little beauty on the side."

The commentary inside the room continued, crude and unrestrained.

And the man I had loved for years didn't stop them, didn't argue. He even chimed in from time to time.

My chest clenched, an ache so sharp it went numb, leaving only a hollow void.

For a moment, I wanted to throw the door open and scream at Nico.

Ask him why he deceived me.

Ask him if he felt even a sliver of guilt or hesitation watching me get humiliated for his sake.

Ask him if he ever thought about the decade of history between us when he did all this.

But my adoptive mother's words echoed in my mind: Anger is cheap fuel, Scarlett. Don't make any unnecessary moves.

People don't rot overnight.

I was the one who was blind, who couldn't see the rot beneath the surface.

I took a deep breath, and the last flicker of warmth in my eyes died out.

I turned and walked away from that room, thick with the stench of betrayal.

The pain didn't explode all at once.

It was like a silenced bullet had lodged in my heart, its poison slowly seeping into my blood.

Logically, a Falcone, raised in a world of violence, shouldn't be this fragile.

It was just betrayal, a common currency in our world.

But Nico was the one who made the first move.

I remembered the night he took me to the underground drag races.

The roar of the engines was like a beast's howl. I flew past the finish line in my modified McLaren, adrenaline burning through my veins.

So when he rushed over and kissed me, I didn't push him away.

That kiss was mixed with the metallic taste of blood from where I'd bitten his lip.

Gasping for air, I asked him over the roar, "Nico, what are we now?"

Nico's fingers brushed my blood-stained lips. "What else could we be, Principessa? We're going to conquer the world together."

And I really believed him. I thought this was his grand confession, that we'd soon be the most envied couple in the underworld.

The gamblers in the stands were roaring, the air electric, just like my foolish heart back then.

But now, with his own hands, Nico had crushed my dignity into dust.

I laughed, but tears streamed down my face uncontrollably.

Did he really think I was stupid enough to let him control me?

In the penthouse, the amethyst wind chimes swayed gently, as if trying to soothe me.

My shattered heart began to piece itself back together, reforged into something harder.

Nico was dead wrong.

He was just an illegitimate son from the declining Moretti family, desperate to climb the ladder. I am a blade forged by the Don of the Falcone family himself.

We were separated by blood and station. We never should have crossed paths.

The transfer request in my hand was wrinkled from my grip, the name of that bleak coastal town on it glaringly harsh.

When something is sullied, you dispose of it.

In the Falcone vocabulary, there is no such thing as "indispensable."

I flicked open my lighter, watched the form turn to ash, and then dialed the encrypted line to the family's Consigliere.

"Consigliere, I need you to change my flight plan."

"Not the outpost. I'm going to Sicily, straight to the Council."

"Yes. Alone."

I hung up. The wind chimes tinkled, crisp and clear, like a prophecy.

I closed my eyes, and the face that appeared in my mind was no longer Nico's hypocritical mask.

Instead, it was the face of a man who looked vaguely like Nico but with sharper, more intense features. He was smiling at me with the same knowing confidence as he had two years ago:

"Scarlett, you'll ditch him sooner or later. In this world, only you and I are the same kind of monster."

I thought he was joking at the time.

Now, I repeated the words to myself.

"Nico, you're out."

Just as I began to calm down, the biometric lock on the door beeped, flashing green.

The security for this penthouse was top tier. Besides me, only one other person had their iris scanned into the system.

The door opened.

Nico walked in, wearing the trench coat I'd given him. His tone was familiar, with a hint of reproach. "Scarlett, why aren't you answering your phone? Everyone's waiting for you."

I looked at him coldly. "I was handling something private."

Just as I was about to tell him to leave, a petite figure peeked out from behind him.

Chloe, like a startled fawn, clung to Nico's arm and gave a dramatic flinch the moment our eyes met.

Nico noticed immediately. He instinctively pulled her behind him, his brow furrowed.

"Scarlett, dial it back. You're scaring Chloe."

Here we go again.

At all those so-called "gatherings with the guys," she always pulls this pitiful act, making me look like the aggressive, wicked villain.

My gaze swept over Chloe's cheap heels, and my voice dropped to a freezing point. "Who gave you permission to bring an outsider into my apartment?"

Nico's displeasure was written all over his face. "Chloe is not an outsider."

"She heard you weren't feeling well and insisted on coming to check on you."

Before I could speak, Chloe's eyes were already red-rimmed. Her voice was as faint as a mosquito's buzz, yet just loud enough for us both to hear:

"I'm sorry, Miss Scarlett. I know my station is... humble... I'm not worthy of stepping on your carpets..."

She bit her lip, tears welling up on command. "But I was just worried because Nico was worried about you. I'll leave right now, I won't dirty the place."

Every word was a calculated tug on Nico's protective instincts.

He shot me a look, his eyes filled with disappointment and accusation. "Scarlett, that's too harsh. Chloe might not have your background, but that doesn't make her worthless."

"The way you're treating her... I'm really disappointed in you."

Right on cue, Chloe tugged at Nico's sleeve, her understanding act flawless.

"Nico, don't. Miss Scarlett is your childhood sweetheart, and the family's princess. Someone like me should never have hoped to be her equal..."

"Don't be ridiculous."

Nico cupped her face, his voice so gentle it could melt butter. "From the moment you stood up for me at the club, you've been special to me."

When he turned back to me, his face instantly turned cold. "Chloe's upset. I'm going to take her home."

"You should take a good long look at yourself. And don't forget the transfer request needs to be stamped."

He wrapped his arm around Chloe and left, as if punishing me for my "impertinence."

The door closed.

I did take a good long look at myself.

I took a moment to reflect on how I could have been so blind for so many years.

I walked to the central console, and without a second's hesitation, I hit "Delete" on Nico's icon and ID as they popped up on the screen.

Then, I revoked all security permissions for the apartment, including the iris scan.

The rage that had been building inside me finally found a sliver of release.

The next morning, the family's Consigliere handed me a sealed manila envelope.

Inside was a new identity for my trip to Sicily and a clean flight permit.

Without a word to anyone.

As I walked out of the family's administrative building, someone suddenly blocked my path.

He frowned slightly. "Scarlett, did you change the codes to your apartment?"

"I went to find you right after I took Chloe home yesterday, but the system wouldn't let me in..."

I cut him off, my voice cold. "Yes, I did."

He looked a little annoyed, but then, as if nothing had happened, he asked gently, "What's the new code? I want to be able to come see you."

I said calmly, "That won't be necessary. The place will be empty once I'm gone anyway. It's more secure with new codes."

Nico glanced at the folder in my hand, feigning a sudden realization. "Oh, right. We're leaving soon. I've been so busy I almost forgot."

"Don't worry, Scarlett. I'll get the paperwork done tomorrow."

There were too many eyes and ears here. I turned and walked into the small family chapel next door.

Candles flickered beneath a large crucifix.

Nico followed me, his act so natural you'd never guess he was lying.

It occurred to me that I hadn't had a quiet, one-on-one conversation like this with Nico in a long time.

Ever since he brought Chloe back from the club, we'd barely had a moment alone.

I closed my eyes, deciding to give our relationship one last chance.

I looked at the statue of the Holy Mother and said softly, "Since when did we need to reassure each other?"

Nico clearly hadn't expected the question. After a long silence, he began abruptly, "Scarlett, the truth is..."

Before he could finish, a chirpy voice shattered the chapel's solemn silence.

"Oh, I knew I'd find you two here!"

Chloe appeared out of nowhere, hopping over to Nico's side like an innocent little rabbit.

She was holding an unfolded map, which she spread out on the prayer kneeler, pointing excitedly:

"Look, Nico! According to the plan, in two years, our smuggling routes can expand here, and here!"

I glanced down.

It was a map of the territories around that northern outpost.

Marked in red were not only the paltry resources meant for me, but also greedy notes about further expansion.

I couldn't lie to myself any longer. He was using my resources to plan a future with another woman.

A future without me.

I struggled to maintain my composure, but a bitterness spread through me like a shot of cheap liquor burning its way down.

I dug my nails into my palm, forcing myself to stay sharp. "You two seem busy. I'll be going."

Chloe acted as if she'd just noticed me, fumbling to hide the map in a way that only drew more attention to it.

"I'm sorry... Miss Scarlett, I didn't mean to interrupt."

As she spoke, her voice choked up again:

"I just wanted to help ease Nico's burden. I know I'm not worthy, that my background isn't good enough for a sacred place like this..."

I had no intention of playing along with her act. "Get out of my way," I said coldly.

The flicker of guilt in Nico's eyes vanished. He grabbed my wrist, his voice laced with anger.

"Scarlett, what's with that tone?"

"She stayed up all night studying routes to help me, and what do you do? Nothing but cause trouble, lock me out, and throw tantrums."

Without another word, he dragged me in front of Chloe. "You scared her. Apologize to her."

And Nico, this man who fancied himself so clever, was eating up her pathetic performance.

The last untouched corner of my heart silently crumbled into ruins.

I looked at Nico, and I smiled.

My smile seemed to unnerve him. His brow tightened. "What are you smiling at? I told you to apologize..."

Smack!

Without hesitation, I slapped Nico hard across the face.

His head snapped to the side, a red welt already forming on his cheek.

I rubbed my tingling palm, my voice dangerously soft. "Nico Moretti."

"You're the one who should be apologizing."

"But not to her. To me."