On my wedding day, my mafia fiancé, Ryder Conti, had his men bar me from the church.

Instead, he walked down the aisle with another woman on his arm.

He shrugged at me through the iron gates.

"Emilia, the Contis need an heir, and Carmela is carrying a Rossi."

"Once I use the Rossi influence to solidify my position in the Family, I'll divorce her. You'll still be my woman."

Everyone thought I would obediently nod and wait for him to come back.

For ten years, I had loved him more than life itself, even cutting ties with my family for him.

That very night, I boarded a private jet to Sicily to accept an arranged marriage with the Godfather of the Vettori family.

From then on, I vanished without a trace from Ryder Conti's world.

Three years later, I returned to New York with my husband and child to deal with a traitor in the Family.

Zayn had some last minute business, so he sent his men to collect me. I never expected to see a face from my past.

Ryder looked at me with a smirk.

"Had enough fun out there? Since you've come crawling back, this is perfect. Carmela's son needs a cook. You can do the job."

Wait, he just called me, the most respected Donna in the underworld, the cook?

On my wedding day, my fiancé, Ryder Conti, cast me aside at the church for his mistress and the bastard in her belly.

Three years later, I returned to the States with my husband. At a private airstrip, I ran into Ryder, who had the gall to offer me a job as a cook for his mistress's son.

He had no idea that the woman he dismissed as a nobody was the most respected Donna in the entire underworld.

A strong wind whipped across the private airstrip.

In the distance, a group of men stood beside a few black SUVs. The man at the front was holding a sign.

The Italian word "Tesoro" was written on it.

It was Zayn's pet name for me, a word he loved to whisper in my ear during our nights in Sicily.

As I got closer, I saw that the person holding the sign was none other than my ex-fiancé, the Conti family's Capo, Ryder.

He and a few of his men, their arms covered in tattoos, were craning their necks to look toward the jet's stairs.

"Boss, isn't that Emilia? The one who cried and begged you not to leave her back then?"

Ryder was stunned for a moment when he saw me, but he quickly composed himself, a smug look spreading across his face.

"I knew it. Sooner or later she'd hit rock bottom and come crawling back."

"This time she held out for quite a while!"

The men erupted in a chorus of jeers. "I thought she had some pride! Turns out she's just come crawling back to kiss the boss's feet, hasn't she?"

"Look at that black dress, not even a brand logo on it. Probably some cheap crap from an outlet mall!"

"I wonder how she even got onto this private airstrip. Maybe she's on the cleaning crew?"

It was no wonder they thought that. In the past, to please Ryder, I would wear short skirts and squeeze my feet into ill-fitting high heels, no matter how cold it was.

But I had no need for that anymore.

Because of my pregnancy, Zayn forbade me from wearing anything restrictive.

This seemingly simple black silk gown was custom-made by a master artisan in Italy.

These clueless goons wouldn't know quality if it slapped them in the face.

But I understood from their words. They had no idea I was the one they were sent to collect.

Seeing me stand still, one of the men, who had once received a favor from me, tried to smooth things over.

"Emilia, good to see you back. To be honest, the boss hasn't completely forgotten you all these years…"

The smile on Ryder's face froze for a second before he cut the man off. "You're back just in time. Carmela's son has been a picky eater lately. He needs a personal cook."

"I know you've always been good in the kitchen, and you should be able to take good care of the boy. The job's yours."

The same condescending look, as if he were bestowing some great charity upon me.

Too bad I was no longer the spineless woman who swallowed every insult and compromised for his sake.

Just as I was about to tell them to get lost, Ryder's phone rang. It was Carmela.

When she heard I was going to be their family cook, she couldn't hide her excitement.

"Emilia, don't you dare blame Ryder. He's only arranging this to take care of you. After all, you disappeared for three years. Who knows what kind of life you've been living?"

"It's better to stay by our side, to have a roof over your head."

"Don't worry, no one will look down on you for taking care of the heir to the Conti and Rossi families."

Three years, and Carmela was still the same spiteful, vicious woman, just as capable of making my stomach turn.

Neither of them had changed one bit. A match made in heaven, truly.

The goons around them immediately started chiming in.

"Emilia, what are you waiting for? Thank the boss! This is a sweet gig with room and board!"

"A chance to walk through the Conti family's door is a damn sight better than living on the streets!"

I touched the family ring hidden beneath my sleeve, about to reveal my identity when Ryder stepped closer.

"Emilia, don't be ungrateful. I made a necessary sacrifice for the Family, and you just abandoned me. Now you come crawling back after hitting rock bottom..."

"You won't grow up if you don't learn the hard way."

My heart clenched at his words.

He still thought I would be overcome with shame, that I would finally bow my head and admit I was wrong.

So, in his mind, promoting his pregnant mistress and kicking me to the curb was just a "necessary sacrifice."

The boy who had once carried me five blocks through a storm to find a pharmacy was long dead.

The Ryder who swore to make me the happiest woman in the world was nothing but a joke.

Fine. Let all those foolish memories die right here.

After all, I was carrying Zayn's second child. Our children were the true legacy.

I had no intention of continuing this pointless reunion.

Zayn's possessiveness was terrifying. If he knew I was tangled up with this trash, he would have them killed. Slowly.

I lifted my eyes, my voice flat.

"If you're my ride, let's go." I walked straight toward the black Cadillac.

The air froze for a second.

Then, the men behind Ryder burst into laughter, even louder and more grating than before.

"Go? Go where?"

"Emilia, are you insane? Or has living on the streets finally rotted your brain?"

One of the beefy thugs pointed at the sign.

"This car is reserved for the VIP from Sicily!"

"Open your damn eyes. We're here for the Donna of the Vettori family!"

Ryder's phone was still on speaker, and Carmela's shrill voice cut through again.

"Honey, don't waste your breath on her. And remember to get a good look at the Vettori Donna's hand. I heard Zayn gave her the 'Fleur-de-lis Blood Ring'."

"It's the symbol of the Vettori family's power. I've only ever seen blurry pictures of it in magazines. If I could see that pigeon's blood ruby in person, even from a distance, I could brag about it to my socialite friends for the next six months."

Ryder's voice softened as he spoke into the phone. "Don't worry, babe. I'll get a good look for you once we meet her."

"But honey, I've already bought you a pink diamond ring at auction. It's not as priceless as the Blood Ring, but it's still very precious."

After hanging up, Ryder turned back to me, a cold sneer on his face. He crossed his arms, watching me like I was a clown.

"Did you hear that? We're here to greet royalty, not some pathetic woman in a cheap, unbranded dress."

"You think you're worthy of even being mentioned in the same breath as someone of her stature?"

I glanced down at my left hand.

The legendary ring rested quietly on my finger.

The massive pigeon's blood ruby caught the sunlight.

On the inside of the band, the ancient fleur-de-lis emblem pressed against my skin with its familiar coolness.

I thought of the man who always wore a cold expression, but whose hands trembled slightly as he knelt on one knee to place it on my finger.

A soft smile touched my lips unbidden.

Ryder saw my smile and his gaze followed my own.

The next second, he lunged forward, grabbing my wrist and exposing the ring to everyone.

"Emilia, you really pulled out all the stops to put on a show for me, didn't you?"

"Is this another plastic piece of junk you picked up at a flea market? So desperate to play the lady that you'd parade around in a fake like this?"

"You don't have to go to such lengths. Just come back, be good, admit you were wrong, and go cook for Carmela's kid. I'll forgive you."

"You think putting on a fake ring makes you Mrs. Vettori? Your vanity is pathetic."

The pain in my wrist made me frown.

I looked at the man I once loved so deeply, now acting like a self-righteous imbecile.

"Tell you what, I'll give you two hundred bucks for this knockoff. The forgery is actually pretty good."

"Carmela has always wanted to see the real thing, so I'll give it to her as a toy. You're getting a good deal."

He started to pull at the ring. I wasn't strong enough to break free, so I said flatly, "It was a gift from Zayn…"

Before I could finish, he grabbed my chin, his face close to my ear.

"Emilia, you've gotten really bold."

"You have no right to speak his name!"

Ryder still hadn't let go, forcing me to look at him.

"If you're looking to get killed, don't drag the Conti family down with you."

He lowered his voice, but he couldn't hide the fear in it.

"Forging a Vettori family sigil and saying the Godfather's name in public... Emilia, are you trying to get us all killed?"

The Soldatos, who had been enjoying the show, instantly paled.

Anyone in this life knew the price of impersonating someone from the Vettori family.

It meant a one-way trip to the bottom of the Hudson River, sealed in a concrete barrel.

A few of the more cowardly ones even took a step back, staring at me as if I were the plague.

"Dammit, Emilia, are you crazy? We begged and pleaded for this job today." One of the men pointed at me, his finger trembling.

"Boss, she's trying to provoke the Vettoris with this cheap fake! She wants them to think the Contis are challenging them!"

"She's getting revenge! I can't believe she'd come up with such a vicious plan."

Ryder shoved me away, wiping his hand on his suit as if my touch had soiled it.

"Crazy bitch."

"Looks like three years on the streets taught you nothing."

I lifted my head. My jaw throbbed, but my gaze was as still as a frozen lake as I stared straight at Ryder.

Perhaps he'd never seen me like this, because he froze, his words dying in his throat.

A crony Carmela had planted in the group saw his chance and added with a sneer,

"Boss, don't let her fool you. This woman is just bitter. She wants to ruin your alliance with the Rossi family."

"It's classic jealousy. If she's miserable, she wants to drag everyone else down to hell with her."

Ryder seemed to find this a reasonable explanation.

Perhaps the word "jealousy" soothed his pathetic ego.

He was silent for a few seconds, then suddenly pulled a thick wad of cash from his suit jacket and stuffed it into my hands, as if I were a beggar.

"Alright. For old times' sake, I'll help you out one last time."

"This is twenty thousand dollars. Go into the city, find a decent hotel, clean yourself up, and buy some respectable clothes. You need to hide how pathetic you look."

"I'll talk to Carmela. As long as you're willing to swallow your pride, you'll be taken care of in the kitchen."

He brushed off his lapel. "Don't worry. I'm a Capo in charge of several districts now. This is just pocket change to me."

Looking at the cash in my hands, I almost laughed.

In Sicily, Zayn gave me a black card with no spending limit for my allowance.

Twenty thousand dollars?

It wasn't even enough to cover the cost of a single paintbrush Zayn had casually gifted me.

But Ryder assumed this was the moment I'd been waiting for, the moment I would kneel at his feet, weeping with gratitude and selling my dignity for a handful of cash.

With a sudden burst of strength, I ripped my wrist from Ryder's remaining grip.

The wad of cash hit the tarmac with a slap, the bills scattering and taking flight in the wind.

"Not necessary, Mr. Conti." My voice was devoid of warmth.

"I don't accept charity from strangers. It's dirty."