For seven years, I secretly funneled my family's wealth to build my husband's mafia empire, even paying exorbitant black-market fees to keep his dying mother alive.

But today, Julian threw annulment papers onto the mahogany table.

He wrapped a possessive arm around his mistress, proudly announcing to a room of armed men that she was carrying his heir.

"Sign the papers and walk away, or my men will consign your body to the river," Julian commanded.

He mocked me as a fruitless branch, completely useless to his legacy.

His mistress smirked, aggressively demanding I get on my knees and beg for her forgiveness.

The entire room of hardened killers erupted into coarse laughter, reveling in the ultimate humiliation of a discarded, barren wife.

They had no idea about the secret I buried.

Six years ago, a piece of shrapnel in a drive-by shooting had rendered Julian permanently sterile.

To protect his life and fragile pride in a brutal syndicate that despised weak men, I had sworn myself to absolute silence and taken all the insults.

I had given him everything, only to be thrown away for a child that couldn't possibly be his.

Looking into the cruel eyes of the man I had shielded for half a decade, my last vestige of naive hope withered.

I calmly signed the annulment without a moment's hesitation.

Then, I pulled out my phone to call the Consigliere of New York's ultimate Don—my father—ready to reduce Julian's holdings to ash.

Chapter 1

Siena POV

Julian Moretti tossed the annulment papers onto the mahogany table like they were nothing—like I was nothing.

"Sign it, Siena," he commanded, his voice a low rasp that once made my heart race. "Valentina carries my heir. I have a duty to the Family."

Valentina Rossi stepped out from behind him, one hand resting possessively on her flat stomach. Crimson silk dress. Perfect smirk.

A Capo requires an heir, he had told me. You are a fruitless branch.

The men around us—hardened killers, syndicate soldiers—watched with hungry eyes. They laughed when Julian mocked my barrenness. They pointed when Valentina demanded I kneel and beg.

I had given this man everything.

For seven years, I had funneled my family's wealth into his rise. I had cleared his rivals, bribed his judges, and kept his dying mother alive with black-market drugs that cost one hundred and fifty thousand dollars a month.

He had no idea who I really was.

Six years ago, a drive-by shooting left Julian sterile. Shrapnel. The doctors told me in a private room while he was still unconscious. I knew what male pride meant in this world. A Capo who could not produce an heir was a dead man walking.

So I swore silence. I took the blame. I let the syndicate whisper about my broken body.

But tonight, as Julian wrapped his arm around Valentina and gave me one minute to sign, I remembered my father's words from a decade ago.

"You will regret choosing that gutter rat, Siena. And when you do, do not come crawling back."

I had made a ten-year wager with the Don of the Romano family. I had promised to prove Julian's worth. I had lost.

The pen scratched against the paper. I signed without hesitation.

Julian looked mildly surprised, then scoffed. "A smart decision for once."

I stood up, pulled out my phone, and dialed an encrypted number.

"Lorenzo," I said quietly.

"Yes, Miss," the Consigliere answered.

"Sever all of Julian Moretti's supply lines. Freeze every cent of his legitimate funding. Burn his casino fronts. See to it now."

"It is done."

I turned back to face the room. Julian was laughing, drinking whiskey, calling my bluff pathetic. Valentina tugged at my collar, mocking my cheap clothes.

"You are losing your mind because you have nothing left," Valentina sneered.

I said nothing. I simply waited.

Because Julian had no idea that the "civilian orphan" he had just discarded was Siena Romano—the Don's only daughter.

And he was about to learn what that meant.

Siena POV

“On your knees,” Valentina demanded, shoving my shoulder. “Kneel and beg my forgiveness, or you will not walk out of this casino alive.”

I ignored her and looked at Julian. “Does she speak for you?”

Julian took a slow sip of whiskey. “Her words are my command. On your knees, Siena.”

The room erupted into coarse laughter.

My hand shot out, caught Valentina’s wrist, and before anyone could blink, I delivered a vicious backhand slap across her face. The crack cut through the murmuring like a gunshot.

Valentina screamed, staggering into the corner of the mahogany table. Her heel twisted. She hit the floor hard, clutching her reddening cheek.

The men laughed harder. Violence between women amused them.

“Julian!” Valentina whined. “She struck me! Discipline her!”

Julian dropped to one knee and gently scooped Valentina into his arms. He brushed the hair from her face with a tenderness I had never seen—not once in seven years.

That was when my last shred of naive hope turned to dust.

Julian was capable of loyalty and affection. He just never wanted to give it to me.

I thought of Maria, his dying mother, whose secret medical bills I had been paying in silence for nearly a year. One hundred and fifty thousand dollars a month. Black-market experimental drugs. Maria had begged me not to tell Julian—she did not want to distract him from his bloody war for the Capo seat. I had honored that wish. I had carried that weight alone.

Now, looking at the man who had just thrown me away, I wondered if I had made a catastrophic mistake.

But that was a reckoning for another hour. First, he would learn what it meant to discard Siena Romano.

Julian stood up, and his eyes turned murderous. “You know how to fight,” he observed. “But throwing a punch does not make you a player in this game.”

“You are not worthy of knowing my true capabilities,” I said. “And you are certainly unworthy of the name I bear.”

Julian’s face flushed with rage. He hated being talked down to. He stepped close, his breath hot on my face.

“You speak boldly for a woman whose body is useless,” he mocked, loud enough for everyone to hear. “A name? What name? You are nothing but an empty vessel.”

The soldiers roared with laughter.

I stretched my wrists and looked him in the eye. “Is it possible the fault is not mine?”

The laughter died instantly. The room held its breath. Questioning a Capo’s virility was an unforgivable offense.

Valentina quickly stepped forward, caressing her stomach. “This child is undeniable proof of Julian’s power! You are just a jealous, broken woman!”

Julian wrapped an arm around her waist. “We will settle this debt of blood slowly, Siena. You threatened my operations. You assaulted my woman. And now you insult my honor.”

He glanced at my silent phone. “Where is your grand destruction? A pathetic bluff.”

Right then, Julian’s burner phone rang violently.