My mother sent me to Chicago to marry Marco Ricci. A power move. One meant to cement our family’s control of the city. After all, my grandfather was the one who put the Riccis on the map. They owed us. They were supposed to treat me like royalty.

I went to the fanciest jeweler in Chicago to buy my fiancé a gift. But some broad snatched it right from me. Before I could move, the store manager was fawning all over her.

“Miss Bianca! A gift from Mr. Ricci? It’s perfect on you!”

Marco? My fiancé?

So this was his whore.

She slid the sapphire ring onto her finger and shot me a look of disgust. “Who the hell do you think you are, bitch? Trying to take what’s mine?”

I didn't even look at her. I just called Marco.

"Your whore has something of mine. You have three minutes. Get down to the jeweler and handle her."

I came here to buy a gift for the fiancé I’d never met. Instead, his mistress stole it right out from under me, and they both tried to grind me into the dirt. So I declared war.

The second my plane touched down in Chicago, I headed straight for the city’s most expensive jeweler.

“Box up that ring. I’m taking it.”

It was the Valenti family sapphire.

It had been lost for three years during our family’s internal war. Today was the day I got it back.

It was my engagement gift to Marco Ricci. A message from the sole heir of the Valenti family.

But the manager’s eyes slid over my simple, no-logo cashmere coat, then landed on the brilliant sapphire on the counter. His lip curled.

“Miss,” he said, his voice dripping with disdain, “this ring is ten million dollars. I think you’ve wandered into the wrong shop. The places that sell cheap trinkets are down the street.”

I didn’t get angry. I just pulled a black card from my pocket.

No point wasting my breath on the help.

But just then, a flashy woman next to me snatched the ring box.

“Oh my god! The blue is divine! It’s practically made for my new Jimmy Choos!”

The ring that belonged to me was now on the hand of a woman drowning in a cloud of cheap perfume.

She turned, looking me up and down.

“Is security on a coffee break? Why are you letting street trash like her in here?”

The manager’s face instantly broke into a groveling smile.

“Miss Bianca! Is this a gift from Mr. Ricci? Only someone with your class could pull off a gem like this.”

I watched their little performance, my expression unreadable.

“Put the ring down,” I said, my voice cold as steel, my eyes locked on Bianca. “That doesn't belong to you.”

Bianca laughed, a shrill, ugly sound.

“I can’t touch it? Do you know who I am? I’m Marco Ricci’s future wife! All of Chicago is the Ricci family’s backyard. If I see something I like, it’s mine.”

Marco? The fiancé I’d never met?

She took a step closer, her finger nearly poking my nose.

“Look at you. Pathetic. Your whole outfit costs less than my manicure. Did you wander in from the strip club down the street? Looking for a sugar daddy? Keep dreaming, sweetheart.”

I didn’t have time to argue with an idiot.

I pulled out the family phone—the one issued only to the inner circle—and dialed Marco's direct line.

One word from him and this farce would be over.

This was our engagement ring, after all.

He answered after two rings.

I put him on speaker. I wanted this bitch to hear every word.

“Marco,” I began, my voice calm. “I’m in the VIP room at Cartier. Your mistress has something of mine. You have three minutes.”

The room went dead silent.

Bianca’s face paled. The manager held his breath.

But what came through the phone wasn’t an apology. It was a sneer, thick with disgust.

“Who the hell is this?” Marco’s voice was rough with a hangover and irritation. “Another crazy bitch trying to get into my bed? How the hell did you get this number?”

I frowned. “I am Seraphina Valenti. Your fiancée.”

“Valenti?” Marco barked out a laugh, a raw, ugly sound full of contempt. “You mean the family whose little heir is hiding in Europe like a coward? Listen, I don’t care who you are. Stop bothering me with this pathetic bullshit. I’m not interested in some washed-up princess with nothing but a name. You want money? Call my accountant.”

Beep—beep—

He hung up.

The silence was deafening.

Bianca stared for a second, then erupted in a fit of wild, mocking laughter.

“‘Fiancée’? Hahahaha! You hear that? Marco doesn’t even know who the hell you are!”

Drunk on her victory, she flaunted the ring, her eyes turning vicious.

“Get her out of here!” Bianca shrieked at the manager. “If you don’t throw this psycho out, I’ll tell Marco you let any stray dog wander in!”

The manager didn’t hesitate this time.

He hit the security button, and two massive guys rushed in.

“Miss, please leave on your own. Don’t make us get physical,” the manager ordered, his face cold.

Finally, the anger broke through my control.

I pulled the family signet ring from my pocket. Solid gold, with the crest engraved in onyx—a two-headed eagle clutching a bleeding rose.

In the Chicago underworld, that ring is as good as a death warrant. Or a royal decree.

I slammed the ring down on the glass counter. The crack echoed in the silence.

“This is the Valenti family crest,” I snarled. “Open your goddamn eyes. Now, lock this sapphire ring in the highest-security vault. Without my express permission, no one touches it!”

The moment the manager saw the crest, his eyes widened in terror.

He’d been in this city long enough. He knew that symbol.

His hands started shaking as he looked from me to Bianca and back again.

He feared the Valenti legend.

But he feared the Ricci family—the power that ruled the city now—even more.

“Put your fake pin away, you fraud,” Bianca scoffed. She had no idea what it was. She only saw the manager’s hesitation, and it enraged her. “The Valenti family is dead and gone! Chicago belongs to the Riccis now!”

She shoved the manager aside and roared at the two security guards. “What are you waiting for? Get this imposter out of my sight. Now!”

A crowd of shoppers was gathering, but no one dared to step in.

In this city, you don’t mess with a Ricci’s woman.

The guards moved toward me.

I didn’t back down. I just stared daggers at Bianca.

My glare seemed to push her over the edge.

She stalked toward me on her four-inch heels, looking down at me with a cruel smile.

“What? You got a problem?”

She lifted her foot, pointing to the tip of her shoe, now smudged with dust.

“You ruined my day. And you're going to pay for it.”

Bianca leaned in, her voice a vicious whisper in my ear.

“Listen up, gutter rat. You want to be part of this world so bad? I’ll give you a chance. Get on your knees, right now. You're going to lick my shoe clean. Then crawl out of here like the dog you are. Maybe if Marco’s in a good mood tonight, I’ll ask him to spare your pathetic life.”

The air was thick with tension.

Bianca was still waiting for me to kneel.

I looked at her dusty high heels and let out a small laugh.

“There’s an old Sicilian saying,” I said, switching to a flawless Sicilian dialect, my tone soft but laced with venom. “‘You can put lipstick on a pig, but it’s still a pig.’”

I switched back to English, my eyes boring into hers. “You can wear my ring, Bianca. But not even ten bottles of Chanel can cover up the stink of the gutter you crawled out of.”

Bianca’s face turned a shade of purple.

“You bitch!”

She screamed and lunged, her long nails aimed straight for my eyes.

Too slow. For me, it was like watching her move through water.

I didn’t retreat. I stepped forward.

My left hand shot out, clamping down on her wrist. With my right, I twisted her arm back until the elbow joint gave way.

CRACK.

The sharp sound of bone breaking echoed through the silent VIP room.

“AHHH!”

Bianca let out a bloodcurdling scream and collapsed, clutching her mangled arm, sobbing in agony.

I let go, tossing her aside like a piece of trash.

“Send the ring back to the Valenti estate,” I ordered the terrified manager. “If a single diamond is missing, I’ll be taking one of your eyes as payment.”

Just as the manager was shakily reaching for the ring, the roar of an engine shattered the quiet.

A flashy red Lamborghini ignored the no-parking signs and screeched to a halt right in front of the store.

The door swung open.

A long leg stepped out.

Marco Ricci.

I had to admit, for an asshole on the phone, he had the kind of face that could make any woman a fool.

Deep-set eyes, a strong nose, and that raw, dangerous, bad-boy charm.

I’ve always had a weakness for a handsome face, and my stupid heart did a little flip.

Maybe this was all a misunderstanding. Maybe he was just being played.

After all, he was the ally my family had hand-picked.

Marco strode into the store and his eyes immediately landed on Bianca, wailing on the floor.

“Marco! Darling! Help me!” Bianca cried, holding up her broken wrist. “This psycho… she tried to kill me! She said the Ricci family wasn’t even fit to shine her shoes!”

Marco’s eyes turned black with rage.

He whipped his head around, his gaze locking onto me.

“You did this to her?” His voice was low, thick with menace.

I took a deep breath, straightened my back, and summoned the authority of a family heir.

“Marco, I believe we need a proper introduction,” I said, meeting his gaze. “I am Seraphina Valenti. That is my engagement ring. This woman tried to steal it and humiliate me. I simply taught her a small lesson.”

I thought my words would snap him out of it.

I was wrong.

The killing intent in Marco’s eyes didn’t fade. It was replaced by a look of pure disdain.

He walked right up to me, towering over me.

“So this is the princess those old fossils tried to shove down my throat? Dressed like a nun, with the temper of a killer.”

A cold weight settled in my stomach.

“This is a marriage contract between two families, Marco,” I reminded him.

“A contract?” Marco scoffed. In front of everyone, he pulled Bianca into his arms and kissed her tear-stained face. “Listen, sweetheart. I don’t give a damn if you’re a Valenti or some forgotten royalty. This is Chicago.”

He pointed a finger in my face, humiliating me word by word.

“To those old men, this might be an alliance. To me, it’s a joke. Look at you. You reek of old money and decay. You really think you’re worthy of the Ricci name?”

He threw my own insult right back at me.

“One strand of Bianca’s hair,” Marco added, his voice dropping with brutal finality, “is worth more than your entire washed-up family.”

The crowd erupted in hushed whispers and mocking laughter.

Nestled in Marco’s arms, Bianca shot me a vicious, triumphant smirk.

I looked at the man in front of me, a man with nothing but a handsome shell, and that flicker of attraction I’d felt vanished.

In its place was a cold that went straight to my bones.

So this was my fiancé.

A stupid, blind, arrogant piece of trash.

Whatever light was in my eyes died. All that was left was the ice-cold pride that ran in Valenti blood.

“Fine.”

I nodded, my voice terrifyingly calm.

“In that case, I won’t waste any more of my time.”

I took a step back, putting distance between myself and this pathetic pair, looking at them as if they were already dead.

“Go back and tell your father, Vito,” I announced coldly, interrupting Marco before he could speak again, “the alliance with the Valenti family is off.”

“It’s not that I’m not good enough for the Riccis,” I said, my voice dangerously soft. “It’s that the Riccis were never good enough for me. Your bloodline is too weak to marry into mine.”

I turned to leave.

Another second looking at that trash would have been an insult to my own eyes.

“Stop!”

Bianca’s shrill voice cut through the air behind me.

With Marco there, her courage had swelled to stupidity.

She charged at me, her long, diamond-encrusted nails aimed for my face, ready to claw my eyes out.

“How dare you insult Marco! I’m going to rip your mouth off your face!”

Fool.

I didn’t even turn around. I just shifted my body slightly, easily dodging her hand.

Then I swung my own.

SLAP!

The sound cracked through the room. I’d put my entire weight behind it, snapping her head to the side.

Before she could recover, my backhand caught her on the other cheek.

SLAP!

Two slaps. Two perfect, ringing cracks.

Bianca clutched her swelling cheeks, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth as she stared at me in disbelief.

“A lesson in manners,” I said coldly. “When your betters are speaking, bitches like you stay quiet.”

After a dead silence, Marco exploded.

“Fuck!” he roared, shoving his bodyguards aside. “Are you all dead? Take her down! I’ll take the heat for whatever happens!”

Four goons in black suits instantly surrounded me.

I didn’t panic.

The first one reached for me. I dropped low and drove my knuckles into his floating ribs.

Crack.

He folded with a wet grunt.

But I was one woman against four men. And this was Ricci territory.

Just as I was about to deal with the second man, the cold muzzle of a Glock pressed against my temple.

“Don’t move.”

A loaded Glock.

I froze.

The other two goons rushed in, brutally pinning my arms behind my back and slamming me against the cold glass counter.

“Run. Why aren’t you running now?”

Marco walked up, grabbed a fistful of my hair, and yanked my head back.

“This is what happens when you piss off the Riccis,” he snarled, his handsome face now ugly with rage.

Seeing me restrained, Bianca lunged forward like a rabid dog.

“Hold her down! I’m going to kill her!”

She raised her good hand and punched me hard across the face.

Then she started kicking my stomach viciously with the sharp heels of her shoes.

Pain shot through me, but I clenched my jaw and didn’t make a sound.

A Valenti does not beg for mercy from trash.

Ptui.

Bianca spat in my face. The humiliation was worse than the pain.

But that wasn’t enough.

Her eyes fell on a silver letter opener on the counter.

The blade was sharp, glinting under the lights.

Bianca snatched it, her face twisting with sadistic glee.

“You’re so proud of that face, aren’t you? You look down on me?”

She pressed the cold, sharp blade against my cheek.

“Now,” she whispered, her voice giddy with madness, “I’m going to carve the word ‘WHORE’ right on this pretty face. Let’s see who’ll want you then.”

“Do it,” Marco said, lighting a cigarette like he was watching a boring movie. “Just don’t kill her. She’s still useful.”

With his permission, Bianca held nothing back.

She dug the blade in and dragged it down.

Sss—

The sound of tearing flesh.

White-hot pain exploded from my left cheek, spreading through my entire body.

Warm blood gushed out, dripping down my chin and onto the white counter. A shocking splash of red.

“Hahaha! Look at her now! She looks like a monster!” Bianca screamed, waving the bloody knife. “And rip those rags off her! I want to see how this 'princess' looks on her knees!”

Just as one of the goons reached for my coat, the phone in my pocket started ringing.

Bianca snatched it, saw the unlisted number, and sneered.

“Trying to call for help? Too late!”

She hit the answer button and started screaming before the person on the other end could speak.

“Whoever you are, you old bastard, listen up! Your little bitch is with us now! You want her? Come get her from Ricci territory! But you better be quick, or we’re not just gonna strip her clothes, we’re gonna skin you alive!”

With a final shriek, she hurled the phone against the wall.

CRASH.

It shattered, the pieces skittering across the floor.

Bianca turned back, triumphant, ready to continue her assault.

But the phone was dead, and a new voice sliced through the chaos.

It came from the entrance of the store, laced with an authority that stole the air from the room.

“Who is touching my daughter?”

The voice wasn't loud, but it cut through the chaos and silenced the entire store.

“I’d like to see the man with the balls to try and skin me.”