On the third anniversary of our engagement, my fiancé—Dominic Corleone, heir to one of the most powerful Mafia dynasties in New York—told me he was not ready to form a new family so that our wedding would have to postpone.

I told myself to wait for some time, the bond between the Corleones and the Valentinos—our families’ sacred alliance—would hold us together.

But what followed were his endless betrayals and tortures.

I walked into a bridal boutique and saw him laughing with Liliane, the childhood friend who always lingered too close.

I watched him destroy the wedding gown I had spent months designing—then crush my hand beneath his heel until it bled.

And when I thought I had hit rock bottom, he proved I was wrong—by getting behind the wheel and running me down.

He thought I’d beg and cling to him, terrified of losing the Corleone name and privilege that came with it.

But instead, I made one phone call and insisted firmly on canceling the engagement.

However, that call didn’t just end a marriage arrangement.

It unearthed a secret that had been buried for over a decade…and turned a marriage born of duty into a story of dark devotion.

The moment I pushed open the door of the bridal boutique, the sight before me froze the blood in my veins.

My fiancé—Dominic Corleone—had his arm draped lazily around Liliane Russell, the childhood friend who’d never learned where her place was.

They were laughing, his hand resting possessively on her waist as if he was her man.

When Dominic finally lifted his gaze and saw me standing there, he didn’t even flinch. The corner of his mouth curled in a smirk, but he didn’t bother to move his arm away.

He just tilted his chin toward me—like I was the one intruding.

Liliane shrank back behind him, pretending to look guilty, though the smug gleam in her eyes betrayed her.

I took a slow, steady breath and walked closer.

“Dominic, you told me this morning you had an urgent meeting at the company and couldn’t come with me to try on wedding dresses. What are you doing here?”

His tone was indifferent. “Liliane asked me to help her choose a gown for her engagement party. So I came.”

The disgust in my expression must’ve shown, because he stopped pretending. He exhaled a cloud of smoke from the cigar between his fingers—straight into my face.

“Eva Valentino,” he said, his voice sharp as glass, “don’t start taking things out on Liliane.”

He chuckled then, that cruel, mocking sound I’d once mistaken for charm.

“What’s your problem, huh? So desperate to get married you have to stalk me everywhere I go?”

“I told you I’ll marry you. I meant it. But Liliane’s been sick all her life—barely made it through college. Her dream was to have a campus wedding. You really have to fight with this?”

Once upon a time, when he talked about our arranged marriage, there had been smile in his eyes.

“Eva,” he used to say, “we were born tied together. This bond—between Corleone and Valentino—isn’t just business. It’s fate. God’s will.”

And I’d believed him. Every word.

Believed that what tied us was destiny, not family benefits.

So, when Liliane started showing up more and more often, I believed his excuses—every single one of them.

“Liliane’s just boring. I brought her along to your birthday party at the club.”

“She’s always loved sailing but she’s too frail to try. Eva, she came just to cheer for you at your race.”

“It’s only a necklace. She liked it, so I gave it to her. It’s not expensive. If you want one, I’ll have them make you something with diamonds.”

And every time, I swallowed it.

All the signs had been there. Every betrayal left its trace.

I just refused to see it.

How pathetic.

I steadied my voice, though it came out like ice. “If she’s that fragile, I’m not about to fight her over something so worthless.”

Dominic’s expression hardened. “Jesus, Eva, cut the attitude. What’s that supposed to mean? You cursing her now?”

He stepped closer, voice rising, full of disdain.

“Can you stop being so damn toxic for once? She just wants a memory to hold onto. Why do you always have to ruin things?”

I didn’t bother replying. I turned to leave, signaling for a cab outside.

But Dominic wasn’t done humiliating me. His hand shot out, fingers closing around my wrist with brutal force.

“Eva, how can you just go like this? Don’t be fucking petty!”

Pain shot through my arm, but I met his gaze, cold and unflinching. Something flickered in his eyes—hesitation, maybe guilt—before he softened his tone.

“Eva, come on,” he said, voice lower, coaxing. “It’s just a game to cheer her up. Like when we used to play ‘play house’ on the block as kids. You know what I mean? It’s nothing serious.”

I forced myself to nod, just to end it. “Sure. I understand. Now let go.”

He finally released me, exhaling with smug relief. “Good girl. Don’t make a scene next time.”

Before I could respond, Liliane came out of the fitting room in a white gown, clutching the fabric like a damsel in distress.

“Eva, please don’t be angry,” she said in a trembling voice, her eyes wide with fake innocence. “I just wanted to do something special for graduation. I’ve been sick for so long, I never got to experience anything normal. I swear, as soon as it’s over, I’ll give Dominic back to you. Don’t hate me, okay?”

I didn’t bother answering. I just gave a curt nod, opened the car door, and told the driver to go.

But just as the car started moving, a piercing scream shattered the air outside.

My heart seized the moment I heard the scream.

“Stop!” I ordered. The driver slammed on the brakes, and I pushed the door open.

Liliane was sprawled on the ground, her pristine white gown torn open at the hem, blood streaking across her cheek.

Dominic’s eyes went bloodshot in an instant. He scooped her up like a knight rescuing a princess and spun toward me, his voice exploding in rage.

“Eva, are you out of your damn mind?! What the hell is wrong with you?”

His glare was feral, seething.

“You wanted to ruin her face, didn’t you? How could you be this cruel? Do you even have a conscience?”

Liliane buried herself deeper into his arms, sobbing delicately.

“Dominic, please... she didn’t mean it. Don’t be angry at Eva...”

“Liliane, you’re too kind,” he murmured, brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear before turning back to me, venom dripping from his tone.

“Apologize to her. Right now. Stop embarrassing yourself.”

I stood still, face cold, saying nothing.

He looked down at the torn gown and then back at me, sneering.

“Liliane’s dress is ruined. Give her yours. Consider it an apology.”

I stiffened. “No.”

That gown—my gown—had once belonged to my grandmother.

She’d worn it the day she married my grandfather; but an enemy family’s bullet ended her life when I was fifteen years old. She’d loved me more than anyone, and I’d restored her wedding dress to wear it when I walked down the aisle—to carry her with me.

My voice trembled with restrained fury. “Tell me, Liliane—doesn’t it disgust you, wearing someone else’s dress?”

Liliane’s face crumpled. She burst into tears, her voice sharp and accusing.

“Eva, you’ve hated me for so long! You ruined my dress, and now you’re mocking me? What did I ever do to deserve this?”

Dominic’s jaw tightened, anger flaring.

He stormed back into the boutique, shouting, “Bring me Eva Valentino’s gown—now!”

I followed him, fury boiling. “Dominic Corleone, what the hell are you doing?”

He turned, shoving my hand away, his voice like a whip.

“If you care so much about that damn relic, then no one gets it!”

Before I could stop him, he grabbed a pair of tailor’s shears from the counter.

“Don’t—!” I screamed.

But it was too late.

He slashed through the lace, cutting and tearing until the delicate fabric fell in shreds.

“Dominic, stop!” I lunged for him, but he shoved me hard. My back hit the fitting mirror, which reflected my disheveled appearance as I slumped to the ground.

On my knees, I gathered the torn pieces of fabric—pieces that still smelled faintly like my grandmother’s old perfume. My fingers trembled as I tried to hold them together.

Liliane stepped closer, hovering just out of reach, fake concern flickering behind her smug smile. She lifted a hand, pretending to help me.

“Eva... are you alright?”

I slapped her hand away. “Get away from me!”

She stumbled back, letting out a shrill cry for effect.

“Ah—Eva….!”

The scissors clattered to the floor as Dominic rushed to her, fury exploding across his face.

“Eva, you never learn, do you?”

He raised his foot and stomped down—hard—on my hand. My bones were cracking under pressure, the pain was so intense that my vision went black, and the air was filled with the smell of blood

“Dominic... stop—” My voice broke, but he didn’t even look down.

The world spun. I gasped for air, fury and humiliation coiling in my chest like barbed wire.

“You dare hurt me?” I hissed, trembling. “The Valentino family will never forgive you!”

He sneered, pressing down harder, twisting the heel of his polished shoe into my skin.

In the corner of my eye, Liliane leaned lazily against the doorframe, her lips curving into a secret, satisfied smile.

Finally, when the edges of my vision began to blur and my fingertips went numb, Dominic stepped back.

He didn’t spare me a glance. He just wrapped his coat around Liliane’s shoulders and started for the door.

“Reflect what you’ve done, such a jealous woman,” he snapped coldly. “You’ll marry me soon enough—try not to disgrace the Corleone name before that happens.”

The bell above the door chimed softly as they left, leaving me alone on the floor—blood dripping from my hand, lace in tatters around me.

A clerk rushed over, pale and shaking.

“Miss Valentino... are you alright?”

I shook my head, clutching the shredded fabric to my chest. The gown was ruined, my grandmother’s last blessing destroyed—like the last piece of warmth I’d ever had.

When I finally stepped outside, the wind hit my face like shards of glass.

It hurt to breathe. It hurt to exist.

Dominic thought I could never live without the Corleone name.

He thought I’d beg, crawl, forgive.

He couldn’t have been more wrong.

I pulled out my phone, my voice trembling but firm.

“Mother,” I said, “I’m calling off the engagement. I’m done with Dominic Corleone.”

On the other end of the line, my mother, Sophia, gasped audibly.

“Eva, have you really thought this through? You and Dominic grew up together, and the marriage between the Corleone and Valentino families was arranged years ago—”

I cut her off before she could go on.

“Mom, Dominic isn’t worth it. You don’t want me to spend the rest of my life unhappy, do you?”

There was a pause, and when she finally spoke again, her voice had softened.

“Eva… if you’ve truly made up your mind, I support you. Your father and I never trusted Dominic completely. He’s too impulsive—he’ll never be able to shoulder the responsibility of the Corleone name.”

Another pause, then she added firmly,

“I’ll talk to your father right now. We’ll find a way to cancel the engagement with the Corleones.”

I hadn’t even made it home when my phone suddenly vibrated.

It was a video message from Grace—my best friend and a nurse at our family’s private hospital.

The video opened to the ER.

Dominic was there, holding Lillian in his arms, his voice dripping with tenderness that made my stomach twist.

“Don’t be afraid, honey. You’ll be fine soon.”

Lillian sobbed pitifully, “Am I… am I ugly now? Will you still want me if I’m ugly, Dominic?”

Dominic’s voice turned soft—dangerously soft.

“Silly girl. I’ve been waiting for you to grow up all these years.”

He brushed a tear from her cheek, gaze full of adoration.

“I’ve been waiting because I love you. Can’t you see that?”

Lillian whimpered, her tone trembling with deliberate self-pity.

“But I’ve always been sick… and my family isn’t powerful like the Valentinos. I’m not worthy of you…”

Dominic frowned, pulling her tightly into his arms before pressing his lips to hers.

“Don’t talk nonsense. Even without an alliance, you’d still be my woman.”

The video cut off right there—frozen on their kiss.

Almost immediately, Grace called, fury burning through her words.

“That bastard! The Corleones were the ones begging for this alliance, and he dares to treat you like this? Eva, don’t marry him. He doesn’t deserve you!”

“I won’t,” I said quietly. “I’ve already decided to end it.”

When I got home, I didn’t even bother tending to my swollen, bruised hand.

Instead, I took out my grandmother’s wedding gown—the one Dominic had destroyed—and began stitching it back together.

The delicate lacework tore at my fingers until tiny drops of blood marked the fabric, but I didn’t stop.

I had just tied off the final thread when my phone buzzed again.

A text from an unfamiliar number flashed on the screen:

“This is Vincent Corleone.

I heard you plan to cancel your engagement with Dominic.

I agree.

But I have one condition.”

Confused, I frowned—then, half an hour later, someone knocked on my door.

It was a deliveryman with a velvet box in his hands.

Inside lay a diamond ring—a large pigeon-blood ruby encircled by brilliant diamonds.

My phone lit up again.

Another message from Vincent:

“The alliance between our families is important.

I hope it doesn’t fall apart.

If Miss Valentino agrees, I am willing to take Dominic’s place as your fiancé—and your protector for life.

This ring is my engagement gift.

I’ll return to New York in seven days to discuss the wedding arrangements.”

Seven days?

My thumb hovered above the screen, but I didn’t hurry to reply.

I slipped my phone into my pocket, threw on my coat, and headed to Dominic’s villa to pack up my things.

The moment I opened the door, I heard laughter—sweet, sticky, and unbearable.

Lillian was curled up in Dominic’s arms, her fingers playing with his tie as she pouted.

“Dominic, what if Eva really gets angry? If she refuses to marry you, will it affect the Corleones’ business?”

Dominic chuckled, pinching her chin affectionately.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. It’s not your fault—you’re just too kind.”

He leaned back against the sofa, a smirk twisting his lips.

“Everyone knows Eva’s been desperate to marry me. If she hadn’t faked that illness years ago to make me pity her, I never would’ve agreed to the engagement.”

He laughed, cruel and careless.

“She’s like a little lapdog, begging to be my wife. You really think she has the guts to refuse me just because I postponed the wedding?”

I clenched my fists until my nails bit into my palms.

Then I pulled out my phone and typed a single message to Vincent Corleone:

“Alright. I agree.”