The night of our engagement party, I found my best friend playing a dangerous game with my fiancé.

The casino on our family's private yacht was where I found them. Clara was sitting on the lap of my fiancé, Killian, the Falcone family heir.

Killian held a sharp family dagger, its tip snagging the thin strap of her dress.

The blade traced a path along her collarbone. The slightest pressure would snap the silk.

It was a dangerous, intimate scene.

I stepped forward with a frown, but Killian just scoffed. "It's just a little game to liven things up, Principessa. Don't be so tense."

Clara's eyes narrowed, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "We're just playing a traditional family game. The knife game. You don't mind, do you, sweetie?"

I was about to speak, but Killian's expression hardened.

"We just got engaged and you're already trying to control me?"

So I said nothing. I just drew my custom pistol from its holster on my thigh.

"So, it's a game," I said.

"Then let's play for something real."

On the night of our engagement, my best friend was perched on my fiancé's lap, playing the knife game. One flick of the dagger in Killian's hand would sever the strap.

A humorless laugh escaped me as I drew my custom pistol. If we were going to play, we might as well go all in.

The entire casino fell silent. Every eye was locked on me.

Killian gave me a lazy smile.

"Be a good girl. This game isn't for you. Go back to your cabin and rest."

It was the kind of placating, patronizing tone he always used, the kind that came with a prize. Something like, "The new West End territory is yours when we dock tomorrow."

In the past, I would have surrendered instantly.

I would have foolishly obeyed, taken the trophy he offered, and called it love.

But today, I just curled my lip and didn't move an inch.

The atmosphere grew tense.

Clara blinked her wide, innocent eyes. "Seraphina, if you don't like this, we can just play another game."

But as she spoke, she pressed herself even tighter against Killian, showing no intention of getting up.

The smile on Killian's face faded, a flicker of impatience in his eyes.

"Seraphina, the engagement party isn't over. Don't embarrass me in front of everyone."

Everyone said the Falcone heir was a notorious womanizer, and I was the only fiancée he had ever acknowledged.

I had once believed my decade of obedience had finally tamed this beast, that it had earned me this official engagement party.

But he was humiliating me like this, in public, in front of everyone.

A wave of bitterness washed over me, but I met his gaze calmly. "Since you said it's a game," I said lightly, "I'm not one to back down."

Clara immediately leaned in affectionately, as if we were still the best of friends.

"See? That's the spirit. It's just that you're usually so well-behaved, Seraphina. Killian always says you're the purest lily in the family, and he's afraid we'll be a bad influence on you."

I scoffed internally. She was nothing more than the daughter of a minor boss who rode our family's coattails.

But she was shameless, a sweet talker skilled at reading people, and she had slowly worked her way into the circle of high society debutantes.

A moment of weakness on my part was all it took for her to squeeze into my world.

She had played the part of the meek, devoted friend for years, and I had treated her well.

I never imagined her appetite was this big. That she would dare to make a move on Killian.

I gave her a soft smile, using our usual fake friendly tone. "Of course not, darling. You're overthinking it."

The family members who had been watching the drama finally snapped out of it, rushing to smooth things over.

"Exactly. It's late. What's the point if we don't have a little fun?"

The speaker was Leo, Killian's right-hand man. He shot a quick glance at me. "Honestly, Seraphina, we've never seen you touch any of this. But it's okay. Killian's an expert."

"You don't need to be afraid."

He spoke while frantically signaling to Killian with his eyes.

"Tonight, you two are a team. Don't go winning all our money."

But Killian completely ignored him.

He remained seated with Clara, his gaze landing on me with a playful glint.

"Sera, this isn't some ordinary game."

"Once you're at the table, you follow the rules. You still have a chance to go back and rest. Otherwise, don't come crying to me when you lose."

His words stabbed me. I forced a smile.

Clara seemed greatly encouraged. She and Killian exchanged a look. "Why don't we raise the stakes? Let's play Russian Roulette. The winner of each round gets to order anyone here to do anything they want."

She paused, then added with false sincerity.

"But let's be clear. Seraphina has never handled a gun, so you all have to go easy on her. Don't bully my best friend."

The men in the casino erupted in laughter and crude remarks.

"I like this! If I win, I'll make Killian give me that smuggling route in the harbor!"

"In your dreams. The man who can beat the Falcone heir hasn't been born yet!"

"So if I win, does that mean I get the Russo princess to have a drink with me? Hahaha!"

Amidst the noisy chatter, I slowly straightened my spine.

I picked up the heavy revolver from the table.

Under everyone's stunned gaze, I expertly flipped open the cylinder and loaded a single bullet.

With a soft click, I snapped the cylinder shut and gave it a quick spin.

"Let's begin."

An odd tension settled over the casino.

Leo glanced around awkwardly, his eyes finally settling on the cold gleam of the revolver. He managed a strained smile. "Since the Principessa is in the mood, I'll be the referee."

He reached for the gun, but a long, slender hand pressed down on his.

Killian didn't even look at me. He was slouched languidly on the velvet sofa, one hand casually spinning the cylinder.

"No need," he said in a low voice. "Let's raise the stakes. Simple life and death is so boring."

Clara let out a coquettish laugh, nearly collapsing into his arms, the swell of her breasts brushing against the collar of his shirt.

"Then we'll do what Killian says."

I looked at the gun. It was my turn.

I caught a glimpse of the single bullet in the cylinder, and my heart began to race.

When my turn came, I prayed for an empty chamber.

I pulled the trigger. Click. The hammer fell on an empty chamber.

"Whoa, is Seraphina playing for real tonight?" A few lewd whistles came from the crowd.

I forced a smile, desperately maintaining my elegant facade. "Just for fun."

Click. An empty chamber.

I set the gun down, my palms slick with cold sweat.

After a few rounds, the tension at the table grew suffocating.

Killian seemed to find this level of excitement childish. His arrogance was bone deep, radiating a crushing sense of absolute control.

Clara noticed my anxiety and looked at me provocatively. "Sera, if you're not feeling well, you can just forfeit. Killian cares about you the most. He won't blame you."

My fingers dug into the fabric of my dress, my knuckles turning white.

I knew Killian was waiting for me to back down. Waiting for me to run from the room with red rimmed eyes, unable to bear the humiliation, just as I had for the past ten years.

Then, like placating a disobedient cat, he would magnanimously forgive my "immaturity."

An icy coldness spread through me, as if I'd been plunged into the deep sea.

I watched the entangled pair across from me.

Killian's hand was no longer hidden. It roamed freely, disappearing deep beneath the high slit of Clara's dress.

"Continue," I said calmly.

Killian raised an eyebrow, giving me a surprised look.

Another round.

The odds were stacking against me. With each pull of the trigger, the chances of hitting an empty chamber dwindled.

The pressure was now squarely on me.

Clara covered her mouth and giggled. "Sera, just give up. Killian doesn't want to see you lose too badly. After all, you're the face of the Russo family."

All eyes focused on me, the whispers growing more venomous.

"What is Seraphina thinking, challenging Killian's authority at a time like this?"

"Please, everyone in our circle knows the Russo princess has been obsessed with the Falcone heir for years. She barely dares to speak above a whisper around him. She must think getting engaged gives her the right to act like the matriarch."

"Give me a break. A man like Killian is never going to settle down. He's just playing with her."

My right hand clenched into a fist, my nails digging into my palm.

Ever since I was fourteen, when a blood-soaked Killian saved me from a rival family, I had been chasing his shadow.

I didn't care about any of the taunts or ridicule.

All I wanted was Killian.

But tonight was our engagement party. Watching him trample my dignity to amuse another woman, I felt none of the passion and anticipation I once had.

"I'm in."

This time, I was betting my life.

I pulled the trigger again. It was another empty chamber, but I hadn't won.

Because Killian didn't pick up the gun. He simply lifted his chin and said to Clara, "You can have my turn."

The room erupted.

As expected of the most ruthless heir in the underworld, he had handed the chance of survival, the very power to control the game, directly to this woman.

He let out a low, ambiguous laugh, his eyes full of mockery.

"Here I go, then," Clara said, closing her eyes. She gripped the gun with both hands and pulled the trigger wildly, aiming at the ceiling.

Click. Another empty chamber.

She was lucky.

"Looks like God is on my side," Clara blew a kiss at me. "A bet's a bet, my dear Sera."

Whispers rippled through the onlookers.

"Looks like the Russo princess is in for it tonight."

"It's her own fault for trying to show off and going against Killian."

With a final shred of hope, I stared at Killian, waiting for him to step in and stop this. He knew exactly what kind of unreasonable demand Clara would make.

But he just glanced at me coolly, a cigar held between his fingers. His expression was unreadable through the swirling smoke. He said nothing.

The last ember of hope inside me died. This, I thought, is the man you've loved for so long.

My face was pale, but I remained silent.

Leo was wiping away cold sweat, trying one last time to intervene. "Alright, alright, let's just call this one a draw. Everyone has a drink and we'll call it a night..."

"Wait." Clara suddenly spoke, cutting Leo off.

"If I remember correctly, I won this round."

She drew out her words. "According to our rules, the winner can order the loser to do anything. Right, Killian?"

Killian blew out a smoke ring and nodded nonchalantly.

No one dared to speak. The atmosphere was stretched to its breaking point.

The smile on Clara's lips widened. "In that case, I order Seraphina..."

Clara's voice was quiet, but it carried a sticky malice that echoed through the dead silent cabin.

"That guest from Moscow, Mr. Boris."

She pointed a finger toward a fleshy man in the corner who was chugging vodka.

He was an envoy from the Russian mafia, notorious for his depravity.

"I order my dear sister Seraphina to give Mr. Boris a passionate kiss," Clara said, her body shaking with laughter. "It's 'diplomatic etiquette,' after all."

At her words, Boris's cloudy eyes lit up. He licked his lips obscenely, revealing teeth yellowed by tobacco.

I took one last look at Killian.

The fingers that had been drumming nonchalantly on the table stopped.

Killian's smile froze, the lazy mockery gone in an instant.

His jaw tightened. The poker chip he'd been toying with hit the table with a sharp crack.

Killian's gaze swept over Boris before finally locking onto me.

In that moment, I was sure he would save me.

He had known for a while that the Russian had designs on me, held back only by his respect for the Falcone family.

Leo sensed something was wrong and whispered a warning, "Boss, this joke is going too far. She's a Russo..."

"Shut up."

Killian tugged irritably at his tie, not looking at Leo.

I knew what he was waiting for. He was waiting for me to show the same vulnerability I always had, even just a little. Then he would flip this table and throw Boris into the sea.

But this time, I didn't.

Seeing my continued silence, the last trace of hesitation in his eyes hardened into the fury of being defied.

"A bet's a bet, my love."

He finally spoke, his tone anything but friendly. "I know you can handle it."

Those few casual words were like a poisoned blade, piercing straight through my chest.

So, he could tolerate Clara pressing against him. He could stand by and watch me be humiliated. He could even push me toward another man with his own hands.

A bitter irony and a bone deep coldness enveloped me.

I stared at his handsome but distant face and suddenly felt like I was looking at a stranger.

I stood up and walked numbly toward Boris.

The Russian, reeking of alcohol and sweat, had already scrambled to his feet, his fat, greasy hands reaching for my waist.

"Don't touch me."

I bit out the words. My voice wasn't loud, but it made Boris freeze.

I closed my eyes, held my breath, and planted a quick kiss on his greasy cheek.

A powerful wave of nausea rose in my throat.

Behind me, I heard a glass slam onto a table.

I didn't have to turn around to know it was Killian.

The cabin was terrifyingly quiet, broken only by Boris's unsatisfied, strange laugh.

I turned back, my eyes turning red against my will. "Is that good enough?"

Clara seemed to have been startled by Killian's reaction. She froze for a second before recovering, then burst into a triumphant, coquettish laugh. "Of course. The heir's wife is so generous, as expected."

Leo quickly stepped in to mediate. "Alright, alright, that's enough for tonight. Let's escort Miss Seraphina back to her room..."

"No."

I took a deep breath, pulled out a chair, and sat down.

All eyes were on me. Killian was staring at my smeared red lips, his expression thunderous.

But I no longer cared.

I finally understood I'd been nursing a viper. Sweet to my face, but her fangs were sharp the moment she had a man's attention.

It's always the quiet ones.

"You won that last round. You had the right to make a demand."

I stared into Clara's eyes and said, word by word, "Now, do you dare raise the stakes with me?"

Clara was stunned, then laughed as if she'd heard the most absurd joke. "Seraphina, you want to play against me? What's the bet?"

"The jewelry smuggling route to Europe that's under my name."

I had just dropped a bombshell.

It was the family's cleanest, most profitable artery, and it was my last bargaining chip.

Clara had coveted it for a long time.

The cabin erupted. Even Killian narrowed his eyes, his body leaning forward as if to stop me.

"If you win, the route is yours," I said, staring her down. "But if you lose..."

I pointed to the branding iron used to punish traitors, glowing red hot by the fireplace.

"I want you to brand the family's traitor mark on your chest. And you will be cast out from Killian's protection."

Clara's face went white. She instinctively looked to Killian, as if seeking refuge.

But Killian's gaze was fixed on me. Everything I had done tonight was beyond his expectations.

"I accept," he said, blowing out a ring of smoke, making the decision for Clara.

Clara was trapped. She could only bite her lip and nod. "Fine! I'll play one more round with you!"

The revolver was back on the table.

Clara's hand trembled as she picked it up. The lure of immense profit overcame her fear.

She closed her eyes and pulled the trigger.

An empty chamber.

Her eyes flew open, ecstasy flooding her face as she provocatively pushed the gun toward me. "Your turn, my friend."

My turn.

I took the gun.

In the cylinder, only two slots remained. One held the bullet.

Without the slightest hesitation, I pressed the cold muzzle to my temple.

Through the crowd, I saw Leo cover his eyes in terror. I saw Killian's hand grip his glass so tightly his knuckles were white. He was shaking.

Was he nervous? No, that couldn't be. He was probably just nervous about the shipping route.

I smiled bitterly. Even now, I was still being a fool.

I pulled the trigger.

Click. The firing pin struck an empty chamber.

Death had brushed past me once again.

I lowered the gun and looked at the ashen faces of Killian and Clara.

Six chambers. Four empty.

Now it was a fifty fifty chance.

I pushed the gun to the center of the table, my voice as light as a ghost's.

"Only one chamber left."

"Killian. Are you going to take the bullet for her, or let her face it herself?"