Late one night, a thread blew up and hit the front page of a famous forum deep in New York’s underworld.

The original poster had dug up an old prompt: “Name three words that sum up your youth.”

Then an account that’d been dormant for years popped up in the replies. Its avatar was a backlit silhouette of a girl in a white dress, username: Seraphina.

That was Seraphina Rossi. The Rossi family heiress, the undisputed it girl of New York’s underworld.

She typed:

Vibrant. Passionate.

And Rico Valentino.

All hell broke loose in the thread.

The wild Valentino’s heir and the breathtaking Rossi heiress had once loved each other hard, only for it all to end in bitter regret.

Nearly everyone in New York’s underworld had watched that heartbreak play out. Including me.

I turned my head, staring at the man sleeping beside me.

This was the man next to me: the once reckless kid who’d ruled the streets of Queens with his bare fists, now the Don of the Valention family.

Poised. Unshakable. And he didn’t love me.

I’d always known Rico still kept in touch with Seraphina. That he’d met her in secret, more than once.

That’s why he’d refused to make our marriage public. His excuse was always the same: “Keeping your identity off the grid keeps our enemies from targeting you.”

But I knew I was the one standing between Rico and the woman he’d never stopped loving.

If all three of us were just going to keep hurting like this? I’d rather walk away. Let them have each other.

I’d made up my mind. I was divorcing Rico.

The thread just kept blowing up, everyone more fixated on Rico and Seraphina’s past than the two exes themselves.

“Seraphina’s been single for years. What about Rico? Anyone got tea on his situation?”

“Hell if I know. Who’s dumb enough to dig into the Valentinos? Dude doesn’t even pop up in finance rags or underground circles these days.Bet that workaholic doesn’t even have a girl. Zero scandals in years.”

“Their love was legendary back in the day. Dude probably never got over her. So why’d they even break up anyway?”

“Young and too proud to bend. Seraphina wanted to move abroad for art school, Rico was too stubborn to say he was sorry. They just drifted apart.”

“Now that Seraphina’s back… you think they’ll get back together?”

I stared at the screen, stuck on one question that ate at me.

Why did Rico marry me? Was I just his second choice? A consolation prize?

Then Rico’s phone lit up with a text.

“Ri, I’m back.”

In all of New York, only Seraphina Rossi ever called him that.

He was fast asleep.

I almost deleted the text. I’d always known his passcode: L-O-S-E. At first, I’d thought it was a reminder to never lose, to never fail.

Then I’d figured it out. It was an acronym. Love Only Seraphina Ever.

In the end, I set the phone back down. What was the point?

Rico would never dote on me the way he doted on Seraphina.

I’d seen it once, at a gala.

Seraphina had gotten huffy because another girl asked Rico to dance. That night, he turned down every single woman who came near him, then smiled at Seraphina and said,“I said no to everyone. I’m only here for one thing, waiting for you to ask me.”

I lay awake the rest of the night replaying it in my head. Before I knew it, 7 a.m. rolled around, and Rico woke up right on schedule, same as always.

He was obsessively disciplined, hit the gym every single morning without fail. But not today.

He propped himself up against the headboard, staring at his phone, typing out a reply.

It wasn’t until 8 a.m. that he finally tossed the covers aside.

“Rico.” I spoke up.

“Are you going to the Rossi charity gala?”

We never had much to say to each other, anyway. Even though we shared a bed every night, I’d only heard about the gala from my friends.

Rico hesitated. “Yeah. You going?”

I shook my head. I knew Seraphina was my rival, in every way that mattered. Showing up at her family’s gala would only mean humiliation for me.

Rico didn’t say another word. He probably didn’t want me there, anyway.

I checked my phone. The forum thread had already hit thousands of replies. Together, Rico and Seraphina’s names were the stuff of legend in New York’s underworld circles.

Seraphina had made another post: “This weekend’s Rossi Charity Gala. All friends are welcome.”

Replies flooded in instantly:

“Thank you for the invite, Miss Rossi. The Moretti family will be in attendance.”

“Ser—Miss Rossi, we’re so sorry for gossiping about your past. We just hate that things ended the way they did for you…”

“Please don’t say anything to Mr. Valentino. I’ll get the mods to take the thread down right now.”

Seraphina just replied: “It’s alright, I actually think it’s… quite amusing. Rico won’t mind.”

With her blessing, the conversation swung right back to Rico.

“Wait, is Mr. Valentino actually gonna be there? You never hear anything about him these days.Man, who would’ve thought the legend of Queens would fly this far under the radar?”

“Miss Rossi, will Mr. Valention be attending?”

Another message from Seraphina popped up:“He just texted me back. He’s coming.”

“Layla.” Rico finished washing up, turning to me with a reminder. “You’re gonna be late if you don’t hurry.”

I snapped out of my scroll and bolted out of bed. I had a 9 a.m. appointment at the Seaside Estate to shoot with Vincenzo Valentino.

I was obsessively punctual. Never late, except once.

There’d been a huge transit strike in Queens. I was just about to jump out and run the rest of the way when I glanced up and saw Rico’s private helicopter flying overhead.

I was wondering where he was going when my cabbie let out a low whistle. “Well, I’ll be damned. My wife’s a flight attendant, said there’s a real big shot on her Vienna flight today. Bet that’s him.”

Funny thing was, Seraphina was in Vienna at the time.

That’s when it hit me that I could ask him for a ride.

“Rico, I’m cutting it close. Are you busy today?”

“Got a family meeting this afternoon,” he’d said, not looking up from his laptop. “I’ll have the chopper come get you.”

I paused. “Okay. Thanks.”

Saying “thanks” was this stupid, constant thing in our marriage.

We were the perfect picture of mutual respect. Or total strangers.

Thanks to the chopper, I made it right on time.

Vincenzo Valentino, Rico’s grandfather, the former Don of the family, was sitting in the estate’s outdoor shooting range, grinning when he saw me.

We’d met at a shooting club in Brooklyn. The old man was stubborn as hell, and with his reputation, no one dared so much as breathe wrong around him. Back then, I was just doing my part-time job at the club. The other staff, knowing I was an orphan with no family, no connections, always stuck me with serving him.

Somehow, over time, we’d become friends.

I had no clue he was the top Don of New York’s underworld.

Until the day Rico showed up with an army of bodyguards to take Vincenzo here. That was the first time I’d ever seen him. I was hooked the second I laid eyes on him.

“Layla,” the old man waved a hand in front of my face. “You sick? You’re a million miles away.”

I glanced down at the gun in my hand, and realized I’d jammed the magazine into the wrong weapon.

He saw right through me, a knowing grin on his face. “So. My grandson Rico. He’s easy on the eyes, huh?”

I shook my head, trying to snap out of the stupid thoughts swirling in my head.

“You’re a good kid, Layla. Folks like us? We never know if death or tomorrow’s coming first.If he would like to settle down with a steady, good girl like you for a quiet life. That’s no bad thing.”

Rico was handsome, powerful, still carried that untamed wildness that made every girl’s heart race.

And he was a hopeless romantic. Seraphina had loved daisies, so he’d filled the entire estate with them, picked one for her every single morning. It was just my luck that I loved daisies too.

That’s when I finally understood why I’d been acting so off since the night Rossi was back.

I was scared. Scared that once they rekindled what they had, I’d be forced back to the same loneliness I’d felt in the orphanage.

Instead of sitting around waiting for the other shoe to drop, I’d make the first move.

After I left the estate, I didn’t go home. I went straight to a quiet, low-key law firm.

“I want a divorce. The agreement needs to be ironclad. Name your price.”