In the second year of our renewed blood-bound alliance, I caught Riccardo Barone with another woman for the third time.

He expected me to throw a fit, maybe even demand severance papers.

What he didn't expect was for me to do the opposite. No hysterics. No interrogation. Instead, I personally bought him a hundred condoms and a hundred sets of lingerie.

Afterward, Riccardo came to me on his own. "She threw herself at me that time..."

"I know." I cut him off, all understanding. "I didn't see anything. Didn't hear anything. Don't worry about me."

My indifference made him frown.

He studied me for a long moment before letting out a cold laugh. "Bianca Bellandi, what game are you playing now? Playing hard to get?"

"I'm telling you, that trick doesn't work on me."

I looked at him, face blank, and said nothing.

Then his phone rang. Whatever he heard drained the color from his face. He stormed past me, shoulder clipping mine hard enough to knock me sideways. He didn't even notice. His signet ring caught the light as he pulled the door open, and then he was gone.

I stumbled, barely catching my balance.

Once I was sure he was gone, I pulled out my phone and called the private investigator.

When the line connected, I made myself clear: "The photos need to be high-resolution. Ideally, I want video of the affair and clear shots of their faces. Ten million dollars will be wired to your account when it's done."

No hesitation on the other end. He agreed immediately.

I hung up and let out a slow breath.

I'd been with Riccardo since high school. Ten years, from hallway crushes to wedding vows spoken before a priest the Barone Dr. kept on retainer. And in the end, he'd beaten me black and blue over a social club bookkeeper, until I had no choice but to file for dissolution.

All I'd wanted was to end that wreck of a marriage. I never noticed I'd been maneuvered into walking away with nothing. Not the Bellandi holdings. Not the front businesses my father had built. Nothing.

Two years of scraping by later, Riccardo came looking for me again, demanding I donate blood for his precious little bookkeeper. I agreed to remarry him without a second thought.

Not for love. Only to reclaim the shares and rackets that were rightfully mine.

I turned and headed upstairs to clear out the villa.

After I'd left, Riccardo never set foot in this place again, so nearly everything I owned was still here. The compound's security cameras blinked red in the hallway, recording nothing that mattered.

I threw every piece of couple's merchandise and clothing into the trash. When I looked up and saw the wedding portrait above the headboard, I froze.

Six years ago, Riccardo had thrown me a wedding so lavish it made every Dr. from here to the coast send tribute.

Under a thousand spotlights, he'd dropped to one knee, his gaze burning with sincerity, and made me a promise: "Bianca, from the moment I first saw you in high school, I knew you were the only one for me. From this day forward, I will treasure you above all else. I will never betray you."

But beautiful things never last. Four years into the marriage, I walked in on him and his bookkeeper in a compromising situation. I stormed into his office at the social club demanding answers, and she accused me of assaulting her.

Riccardo slapped me across the face without a word. Ten years together, and that was the first time he'd ever raised a hand to me. Over another woman.

The shrill ring of my phone cut through the memory. I steadied myself and answered.

"Bianca, I underestimated you. I thought you genuinely didn't care, but it was all an act. You have fifteen minutes to get to the hospital and apologize to Serafina DeLuca. Otherwise... you won't like the consequences."

He hung up before I could get a single word in.

Not half a sentence. He wouldn't hear it.

I assumed Riccardo was just running his mouth. I was wrong. Fifteen minutes later, his soldiers dragged me to the hospital entrance and forced me to my knees.

I tried to stand. Two of them pinned me down, their jacket hems tugged straight over their holster lines before they gripped my shoulders.

My kneecaps cracked against the concrete. The pain was sharp enough to steal my breath.

"Riccardo said he wanted to see me," I ground out. "What the hell is this?"

One of the soldiers sneered. "The boss says you have zero manners. Seeing as you're the girl who got both her parents killed, and nobody ever taught you how to behave, he figured he'd teach you himself."

The words "got both her parents killed" hit me like a fist to the chest.

Of course. My parents died young. My father's car hit on the coast road, my mother gone before I could understand what gone meant. It was the deepest wound I carried, and he knew exactly where to press.

I knelt in the blazing sun for six full hours before Riccardo finally granted me permission to enter the hospital room.

He noticed my cracked, bloodless lips. Not a flicker of pity crossed his eyes.

"Have you learned your lesson?" he asked, voice like ice.

My lips moved twice. I thought of the unsigned severance papers and forced the words out. "I've learned my lesson."

Riccardo scoffed. "Good. Now go apologize to Serafina."

Every muscle in my body locked. My fingers curled into fists.

"Apologize for what?" I couldn't stop myself. "What exactly did I do wrong?"

Riccardo's eyes went wide. "You hired a driver to run Serafina down, and you're going to stand there and play dumb? The driver already gave you up. What's left to argue?"

Attempted murder. That was a charge I could never accept. A stain like that would destroy any future I had left, in this world or outside it.

Before I could open my mouth, Serafina let out a pitiful whimper. "Mr. Barone, please don't put yourself through this. After all, no one ever admits to the crimes they've committed." One lacquered nail tapped the rim of her water glass, soft as a metronome.

"Stubborn, are we?" Riccardo's lips curled. "I have plenty of ways to deal with stubborn."

He ordered the soldiers to haul me to the police station, and right in front of me, he told them to give me "special treatment." The cops on the Barone payroll didn't ask a single question.

That night, I was shoved into a cramped, pitch-black room. Several heavyset women filed in after me.

They didn't say a word. Fists knotted in my hair, nails raked across my skin, hands tore my clothes to shreds. The moment I tried to fight back, a storm of blows rained down.

After three hours of beating, I heard a voice ask: "Are you ready to confess?"

"I didn't do any of—"

My voice came out thin, barely there.

The charges were fabricated. Every last one. But Riccardo never bothered to investigate. He took Nico's word as gospel, no questions asked. He really did love her that much.

A bitter laugh echoed somewhere inside my chest.

What followed was six hours of beatings. By the end, my vision went black and I lost consciousness entirely.

When I opened my eyes again, I was in a private clinic bed. The kind of room where the walls were thick enough that no one outside heard what happened to the patient before she arrived.

Riccardo sat beside me, his gaze flat and cold. The signet ring on his right hand was perfectly still against his knuckle. "Stop going after Nico. Unless you want more of the same."

I said nothing.

During the two years he'd schemed to strip me of everything in the severance, I'd swallowed every kind of suffering there was. This time, I was going to carve out a future of my own.

Riccardo looked at my bruised, swollen face. Something unreadable flickered in his eyes. Then a phone rang, and his attention snapped away.

I glanced over without turning my head. The caller was Nico.

The moment he picked up, his brow softened. His voice turned gentle.

All things that used to be mine.

Back then, he'd been the notorious troublemaker on the streets around Crestfall, the Barone heir everyone gave a wide berth, and I was just a girl who'd gotten lost and stumbled onto him beating someone bloody behind the social club on Mulberry.

That one encounter was all it took. He latched onto me after that, impossibly tender and attentive with me while staying vicious toward everyone else. It didn't matter if they were women. He never spared them a second glance.

When he proposed in that grand, over-the-top spectacle, practically everyone in the territory said Riccardo Barone was head over heels for me.

We became Crestfall's golden couple. The neighborhood whispered about us like a legend. The old wives at Sunday Mass called us a fairy tale come to life.

Too bad fairy tales always end at the wedding. And what came after, for Riccardo and me, was everything those stories never bothered to tell.

"Something came up at the club. I need to handle it."

Riccardo stood and headed for the door. Just before it closed, I heard him murmur into the phone, "Whatever my girl wants, I'll get it for her."

I pulled my gaze back, picked up the phone on the nightstand, entered the passcode, and switched to the second operating system.

There was only one number in the contacts. I stared at it for a long time before I finally made myself dial.

He picked up almost instantly. A warm, rich voice came through the speaker: "Bianca. You finally decided to call me."

My heart stuttered. Heat flooded my ears. I turned the words over in my head, then forced them out through clenched teeth: "Could you... could you take me away? You mentioned a position at one of your fronts before. I can do the job."

He didn't hesitate. "Of course. I've been holding that spot for you. When do you want to come?"

I pressed my lips together. "One week. Once I've settled things here, I'll be there."

His voice was steady, sincere. "All right. I'll come pick you up."

After the call ended, I finally let myself exhale. Somewhere outside the clinic window, a car engine idled. One of Riccardo's soldiers, no doubt, parked where he could watch the entrance. Even my breathing was monitored in this world.

Three days in the clinic. Riccardo didn't visit once. Meanwhile, the neighborhood gossip and every connected family in Crestfall buzzed with the same stories.

The Barone heir had bought out every lot at a private auction just to make his bookkeeper smile.

The Barone heir had taken his bookkeeper to be fitted for a wedding dress. Alliance papers were being drawn.

On my very first day in the clinic, I'd received a message request from Nico.

Over the next three days she sent me Riccardo's full itinerary, message after message. I forwarded every single one to my private investigator and told them to move fast.

Ding.

Another taunt.

Nico had sent a photo, smug as ever. It was a cemetery plot. My parents' mausoleum.

When I made out the names on the headstones, my pupils contracted to pinpoints.

Nico called. My fingers were shaking as I answered.

She let out two soft laughs, her tone laced with venom. "What do you think about me bulldozing this place and putting up a nice public restroom?"

My mind went blank for a split second. I ground my molars together. "What the hell do you want, Nico?"

Riccardo had bought that plot for my parents. He'd stood beside me in the rain that day and whispered, "From now on, I'm your only family. Wherever you are, that's home."

Promises from another lifetime. Punchlines now.

Nico's voice kept coming, relentless: "You saw me in bed with him, and you still had the nerve to crawl back. Shameless."

"I was this close to marrying him. I'm the one who should be the Barone bride."

"You ruined my life, you worthless little tramp. So don't expect me to make yours easy."

She hung up without waiting for a reply.

I sat frozen for a beat, then scrambled to check myself out. The billing desk told me my account had insufficient funds.

I stared. I hadn't expected Riccardo to go that far.

I twisted the diamond ring off my finger and slid it across the counter. "Put this toward the bill."

I was leaving soon anyway. None of these things mattered anymore.

By the time I reached the cemetery, it was nothing but level ground.

The iron gate was gone. The Bellandi name that had been carved into the stone arch was rubble. Where my parents had rested, there was only scraped earth and the smell of wet concrete waiting to set.

Nico was already there. Her eyes swept over me, dripping with contempt and spite. "Oh, silly me. I forgot to dig out your parents' ashes first."

"Then again, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. I'm sure they're rotting in the lowest circle of hell by now."

"So really, ashes or no ashes, what's the difference?"

I was shaking from head to toe.

A calculating gleam crossed Nico's eyes, and her lips curled into a cruel smile. "Tell you what. Get on your knees right now and knock your head on the ground a hundred times. Maybe, just maybe, I'll be generous enough to leave your parents' urn in one piece. If you refuse..."

I glared at her, cutting her off. "In your dreams."

Nico scoffed.

Then, without warning, she seized my wrist and yanked me forward. The next second she toppled backward, stiff as a board. Behind her, a cement mixer was already pouring concrete over the flattened ground.

Nico's face went white. "Riccardo, save me—"

Before I could process what had happened, a shadow streaked past the corner of my vision. Riccardo hauled Nico out.

He didn't give me a chance to speak. His face was stone. He drove his foot into my stomach and sent me skidding three yards across the dirt.

His voice was low, thick with fury. "Bianca. I gave you a chance."

"Take her to the cellar. She comes out when she apologizes. Not before."

Soldiers dragged me to a car. The lead one gave a brief tug to his jacket hem, clearing the holster line beneath, before gripping my arm. As they pulled me away, I watched Riccardo guide Nico into his vehicle with exquisite care, one hand hovering at the small of her back.

Two cars of very different worth drove off in opposite directions.

Just like the distance between Riccardo and me. Growing wider with every passing second.

The entire time I was locked in that cellar, I refused to apologize.

The sealed space made it hard to breathe. Stone walls, no windows, the kind of room built for men who owed debts they couldn't pay. All I could do was curl into myself as tightly as possible, searching for some small scrap of comfort. Somewhere above me, the compound went on living. Footsteps. Muffled voices. The faint percussion of a door closing in a distant wing.

Then a pair of leather shoes appeared in front of me. Riccardo stood over me, looking down. "Ready to admit you were wrong?"

I thought of the mausoleum, leveled to nothing, and the stubbornness in me held. "I wasn't wrong. Riccardo, you know that burial ground—"

He cut me off before I could finish. "I know."

"Nico wanted it. So I gave it to her."

I stared up at him, eyes wide. "You gave it to her?"

In that moment, I felt like I was looking at a stranger.

Riccardo shrugged it off. His signet ring turned lazily against his knuckle, a habit that looked casual to anyone who didn't know what it meant. "Nico is beautiful and kind. If she hadn't carried me out of those mountains, I probably wouldn't be alive today."

"Bianca, all you have to do is admit you were wrong, and I'll let you out."

The mountains? Nico saved him?

Three years ago, when Riccardo was stranded in the mountains after a deal gone wrong, I was the one who hauled him out. Step by step, his weight on my back, through the snow, while Barone soldiers waited at the treeline because none of them could reach us in time. He survived. I ended up in a Dr.-run clinic for two weeks. When I finally woke up, the first thing I learned was that he'd been keeping a mistress the entire time. That was what ended our marriage.

But how had the person who saved him become Nico?

I opened my mouth. "Riccardo, maybe you should look into—"

"Mr. Barone, please don't be hard on her. It's all my fault. I lost my footing and fell on my own. She absolutely did not push me…"

Nico clicked over in her heels and positioned herself at Riccardo's side, instantly pulling every ounce of his attention. The sound of her shoes on the cellar stairs had been deliberate, timed, rehearsed.

The moment I met her eyes, full of calculation and triumph, I understood. Nico had stolen credit for what I'd done.

Riccardo wrapped his arm around Nico's slim waist, his voice tender. "What are you doing out of bed? The doctor said you need rest."

Nico leaned into him, her voice a syrupy whine. "I missed you. And it looks like she still hasn't realized what she did wrong." One lacquered nail tapped the edge of his lapel, light as a suggestion. "Maybe you should toss something in there with her. I hear people confess to anything when they're scared enough."

Riccardo gave her an approving glance, then turned to the soldiers. "You two. Go put my pets in there."

The word pets sent ice through my veins.

Riccardo had a particular hobby. He kept centipedes, spiders, and snakes. Cold-blooded creatures, all of them. The kind of collection that made visitors go quiet and then never mention it again.

The first time I'd seen them, I'd asked him, "They won't bite me, will they?"

Back then, Riccardo had looked me in the eye and promised, with every appearance of sincerity: "Don't worry. As long as I'm here, I will never let them hurt you. I won't let anyone hurt you."

I never imagined this day would come so soon.

When the centipedes and spiders were released into the cellar, my scalp went numb. They moved as if drawn to me, locking onto my position with terrible precision, swarming up my body in a crawling, writhing mass.

Tiny, sharp stabs of pain, over and over, until I could barely think.

Riccardo's expression wavered. His ring went still.

Nico pressed her fingertips to her temple, her voice going faint. "Oh no, Mr. Barone, I think I'm feeling a little unwell…"

Without a word, Riccardo scooped her into his arms and walked away. The cellar door stayed open. No one came back.

I lifted my head just in time to catch Nico peering back over his shoulder. Our eyes met. She mouthed the words silently: You deserve this, you worthless tramp.

I clenched my jaw and slammed my hands down on the insects, crushing every one I could reach.

Only one thought kept me alive: I am not dying here.