The day we were meant to announce our engagement, my father, the Don, sent Gabriel Falcone on a mission.

He swore he'd marry me if he returned.

For three years, I refused every alliance and waited.

He returned a hero. Scarred. Broken.

He knelt before my father for another woman.

She was pregnant with his child.

So I chose my own husband.

On my wedding day, Gabriel put a gun to my fiancé’s head.

"If you dare marry him, I'll kill him."

————————

1

My father has seven Capos, his most trusted men, and Gabriel Falcone is his sharpest blade.

He might be my step-brother in name, but he’s the man who’s been carved into my soul since we were children.

My father said that if he had known about us, he would never have sent Gabriel to Chicago.

Among that pack of wolves, Gabriel was a different beast altogether, his skills forged in purgatory.

If he couldn't make it back, sending anyone else would have been a suicide mission.

But now, three years had passed.

“Principessa! It’s Gabriel! Mr. Falcone is back!”

My eyes flew open, and I ran outside barefoot.

But the family's Consigliere stopped me. “Principessa…”

Seeing his hesitation, I knew something was wrong.

“I know.”

Grabbing an umbrella, I stepped out into the rain.

I hurried through the downpour, the hem of my skirt splattering with mud.

The entire foyer was lined with our family's Soldati.

Several Capos stood under the veranda, their expressions a strange mix of joy and resentment as they watched Gabriel.

I couldn't understand the resentment.

“Father.”

Every head turned toward me. The iron in my father's gaze softened the moment he saw me.

“What’s wrong? Why is he kneeling?”

Gabriel glanced at me once, his eyes cold, as if I were a stranger.

He pressed his forehead to the floor. “Don, she and the child are innocent. I won't let them live in shame.”

“I beg you, Don, and the Principessa, to grant us your blessing.”

He pressed his forehead to the stone once more.

In a daze, the pieces began to click into place.

A girl, about my age, crept in from outside.

Beneath her thin white dress, her belly was swollen with child.

She knelt before my father, her voice choked with sobs.

My father toyed with the prayer beads in his hand, saying nothing.

Gabriel clearly hadn't expected this to be so difficult.

After all, our relationship had never been public. No one knew.

But he’d forgotten one thing.

If I hadn't confessed to my father, I would have been married off years ago, a pawn in some new alliance; I certainly wouldn't have been free to wait for him for three years.

Every eye in the room was on me, filled with pity.

I might look refined, but I have a temper that could burn this estate to ashes.

The Consigliere approached, about to offer a comforting word.

I raised a hand, stopping him.

My gaze never left him.

Three years. He looked weathered, harder.

A jagged scar cut across his brow. He had a limp and a missing finger.

He had spent the last three years in hell.

“Gabriel is a hero to the Moretti family. How can we let a hero kneel?”

My father waved his hand, and someone helped him and the woman up.

“Father,” I said, my voice clear. “The third of next month is a good day for a wedding, isn't it? Let them be married then.”

My father, a man who never showed weakness, seemed to choke on his words.

The Capos all lowered their heads in silence.

Only the two of them embraced and wept.

Because the third of next month was originally the date my father had chosen for him and me.

My father had set three dates for us.

This was the last one.

He'd said he was sure to make one of them, that he'd find me waiting when he returned.

I had waited for him.

I had waited for the proposal.

But I wasn't the bride.

Meeting their tear-filled, emotional gazes, my voice cut through the silence like a whip. “Are you all deaf? Greet her!”

The courtyard full of Soldati bowed their heads as one. “Mr. Falcone… Mrs. Falcone.”

Holding the umbrella, I turned and left.

I could feel their prying eyes on my back.

The Consigliere hurried after me.

“Principessa, you’ve been wronged.”

I pushed open the study door. Files on every potential marriage candidate from the last three years were stacked in the corners.

“Consigliere, in your opinion, which of these families would make the strongest alliance?”

“With the Moretti family’s current standing, Principessa, any marriage for you is a luxury, not a necessity.”

“Then who is the most handsome?”

Seeing the Consigliere’s predicament, I randomly pulled out a file.

“Julian Costello.”

“Principessa, perhaps you should reconsider.”

“Why?”

Suddenly, a lazy voice drifted from the window.

“Because he's got a shit reputation. Spends his life in clubs, doesn't know the first thing about power or business. A notorious playboy.”

I sized him up, then glanced back at the file in my hand.

“You look better than your photo.”

The Consigliere pointed at the man on the wall and snapped, “You bastard! Climbing the walls of the Moretti estate? You got a death wish?”

I shoved the file into the Consigliere’s arms. “It’s him.”

Julian Costello was lounging on our outer wall, one leg casually crossed over the other.

Hearing that, he sat up straight, his gaze raking over me without a trace of restraint.

“Settle your business with Gabriel Falcone. I'm coming to marry you in seven days.”

With that, he vaulted off the high wall and disappeared.

The Consigliere took a deep breath, his face red with anger.

“What a worthless punk.”

“Not entirely useless. At least he’s well-informed.”

If a so-called "good-for-nothing" knows about Gabriel and me, then he's anything but.

In the evening, I went out.

In the gazebo, Gabriel was waiting.

He sat across from me and, with a single glance, dismissed the staff.

I sipped my wine, reading a business report in my hand, and I asked nonchalantly,

“Is the child she's carrying yours?”

He didn’t speak, just watched me in silence.

“Principessa—ah, Mr. Falcone is here too, my apologies. Principessa, this is the information you requested.”

A young Soldato placed the file on the table, making no attempt at subtlety.

The photo on top was of the girl Gabriel had brought back today.

I leaned back and lit a cigar, but Gabriel couldn't sit still.

“I'm the one who wronged you. Seeing her… it made me want a simple life. She can wait, but the child can't. I have to give them a name, so the child isn't born a bastard.”

“If you wanted a simple life, you should never have gotten involved with me.”

Gabriel took a Saint Christopher medal from his inner pocket. The chain was new.

“The medal you gave me three years ago. I searched all of Europe for a chain worthy of it.”

He pressed down on my hand, his gaze so deep it could almost devour me.

“You think a single medal is enough to make me back down? Do you even know me at all?”

Without a moment's hesitation, Gabriel dropped to one knee before me.

“I’m sorry.”

“My life is yours. Just… let her go.”

I smiled and stood up, taking a deep drag from my cigar. There was nowhere to ash it.

Gabriel resignedly raised his hands, palms up, his eyes dark.

I viciously ground out the burning cigar in his palm.

The sizzle of burning flesh was accompanied by his suppressed grunt.

“Then you might as well go die now.”

Gabriel Falcone looked at me, stunned.

“Are those the same pretty lies you fed that little girl?”

“Gabriel, if pretty words could solve every problem, the Moretti family wouldn't be where it is today.”

I rose and walked toward the family dining hall.

The Soldato behind me hurried to catch up.

“Principessa, your things.”

I took my bag and saw he was still holding the medal.

“It’s valuable. It’s yours now.”

“Thank you, Principessa.” The young Soldato happily put it on.

In the grand dining hall, several Capos welcomed me with smiles.

I had just sat down when Arabella Salvatore took my hand.

“Stella, I've heard you and Gabriel are close. That means you'll still listen to him, right? After we're married next month, you should visit more often, just like old times.”

She smiled sweetly, but her eyes held a challenge.

“Stella, let's exchange numbers.”

She took out her phone. The screen saver was an intimate photo of her and Gabriel.

She suddenly tapped her forehead.

“Oh, silly me. I'm using Gabriel's old phone. None of the contacts have names, Stella. Which one is you?”

She looked at me with a cheerful smile.

The Capos across the table had already sensed something was wrong.

I glanced at it. It was indeed Gabriel’s old phone.

Since she was so eager to know, I didn't mind telling her.

“How could there be no label? The one saved as ‘Baby’ is me.”

Arabella didn't expect me to admit it so shamelessly.

Her smile faltered.

“You two must be so close. Is it this one?”

She held up the phone, pretending to show me, but really showing everyone.

On it were the countless messages I had sent to Gabriel.

Asking about his situation, and all those explicit words about how much I missed him.

“My phone broke, so I'm using Gabriel's. He probably never saw any of this, Stella. Should I... forward it to him for you?”

Just then, Gabriel walked in.

I shot a look at the Soldato behind me. “Take it. Show Gabriel Falcone.”

“Yes, Principessa.”

He snatched the phone from Arabella and handed it to the approaching Gabriel.

Gabriel showed no reaction to the chat history, but when he saw the medal around the Soldato’s neck, his gaze instantly froze.

“Where did you get that?” His voice was hoarse.

“The Principessa told me to show it to you,” the Soldato answered, gesturing to the phone.

“I’m asking about the medal around your neck. Where did you get it?”

“The Principessa gave it to me.”

I couldn’t read Gabriel’s eyes. There was madness in them, and destruction.

He pulled out a chair and sat right next to me.

“Sitting here, I’m afraid you’ll have a hard time explaining it to your fiancée.”

“If I didn’t sit here, I’d have a hard time explaining it to you, wouldn’t I?”

He stayed by my side until the family dinner began, constantly serving me food with a suffocating intimacy.

As dinner was ending, he suddenly said,

“Why give away something you love?”

I cut my steak and asked calmly, “Are we talking about the man or the medal?”

For once, he was silent.

I could feel Arabella’s emotions, could sense her knuckles turning white as she clenched her fists.

But I didn't care.

“Still so headstrong after three years. It's time a man taught you your place,” he murmured, his tone thick with meaning.

“I’m finished. Please, enjoy your meal.”

I wiped my lips, grabbed my bag, and rose from the table.

He thought I was upset.

The truth was, it wasn't necessary.

There was a very good chance I would be married before him.

“Principessa, gentlemen, the Don requests everyone to move to the front hall after dinner.”

I turned and walked to the front hall.

The vast front hall was already filled with all sorts of luxurious chests, dozens of them, tied with red silk ribbons.

My father sat in the main seat, a list in his hand, checking off the betrothal gifts one by one.

“Are these… my betrothal gifts?” Arabella gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “There's so much!”

Gabriel gently lowered his head and stroked her hair.

Several Capos were also asking about the details of their wedding.

“Is the wedding dress settled?”

“We’re going to pick it out tomorrow.”

“Alright, when you get back, go to my winery and pick out the wedding wine. A gift from me.”

“Thank you, Rico.”

They chatted back and forth, and listening to them, I almost thought these gifts really were prepared by my father for Gabriel.

Until the butler came running over with a smile.

“Don Moretti, Principessa, Mr. Julian Costello has arrived.”