In the second year of our renewed alliance marriage, I caught Vittorio Falcone with another woman for the third time.

He expected me to throw a fit, maybe even demand a dissolution of vows.

What he didn't expect was for me to do the opposite. No hysterics. No interrogation. Instead, I personally bought him a hundred condoms and a hundred sets of lingerie.

Afterward, Vittorio came to me on his own. "She threw herself at me that time..."

"I know." I cut him off, all understanding. "I didn't see anything. Didn't hear anything. Don't worry about me."

My indifference made him frown.

He studied me for a long moment before letting out a cold laugh. "Bianca Moretti, what game are you playing now? Playing hard to get?"

"I'm telling you, that trick doesn't work on me."

I looked at him, face blank, and said nothing.

Then his phone rang. Whatever he heard drained the color from his face. He stormed past me, shoulder clipping mine hard enough to knock me sideways. He didn't even notice.

I stumbled, barely catching my balance.

Once I was sure he was gone, I pulled out my phone and called Enzo D'Angelo.

When the line connected, I made myself clear: "The photos need to be high-resolution. Ideally, I want video of the affair and clear shots of their faces. Ten million dollars will be wired to your account when it's done."

No hesitation on the other end. I heard the faint click of a pen shutting before he agreed.

I hung up and let out a slow breath.

I'd been with Vittorio since high school. Ten years, from hallway crushes to a cathedral ceremony that half the city's families attended. And in the end, he'd beaten me black and blue over a club hostess who kept his books, until I had no choice but to file for a civil severance.

All I'd wanted was to end that wreck of a marriage. I never noticed I'd been maneuvered into walking away with nothing. Not the fronts. Not the cash reserves. Not my family's share of what the Moretti name had built before my parents were gone.

Two years of scraping by later, Vittorio came looking for me again, demanding I donate blood for his precious little bookkeeper. I agreed to the renewed alliance without a second thought.

Not for love. Only to reclaim the shares that were rightfully mine.

——

I turned and headed upstairs to clear out the villa.

After I'd left, Vittorio never set foot in this place again, so nearly everything I owned was still here. The house sat at the edge of Falcone territory, gated and quiet, the kind of property where soldiers drove past twice a night but never came inside.

I threw every piece of couple's merchandise and clothing into the trash. When I looked up and saw the wedding portrait above the headboard, I froze.

Six years ago, Vittorio had thrown me an alliance ceremony so lavish it made the papers from Crestfall to Thornridge.

Under a thousand candles in the cathedral, he'd dropped to one knee, his gaze burning with sincerity, and made me a promise: "Bianca, from the moment I first saw you in high school, I knew you were the only one for me. From this day forward, I will treasure you above all else. I will never betray you."

But beautiful things never last. Four years into the marriage, I walked in on him and his bookkeeper in a compromising situation in the back office of his private club. I stormed in demanding answers, and she accused me of assaulting her.

Vittorio slapped me across the face without a word. Ten years together, and that was the first time he'd ever raised a hand to me. Over another woman.

The shrill ring of my phone cut through the memory. I steadied myself and answered.

"Bianca, I underestimated you. I thought you genuinely didn't care, but it was all an act. You have fifteen minutes to get to the hospital and apologize to Serafina Caruso. Otherwise... you won't like the consequences."

He hung up before I could get a single word in.

Not half a sentence. He wouldn't hear it.

I assumed Vittorio was just running his mouth. I was wrong. Fifteen minutes later, his soldiers dragged me to the hospital entrance and forced me to my knees.

I tried to stand. Two massive enforcers pinned me down.

My kneecaps cracked against the concrete. The pain was sharp enough to steal my breath.

"Vittorio said he wanted to see me," I ground out. "What the hell is this?"

One of the soldiers sneered. "The Boss says you have zero manners. Seeing as you're the girl who got both her parents killed, and nobody ever taught you how to behave, he figured he'd teach you himself."

The words "got both her parents killed" hit me like a fist to the chest.

Of course. My parents died young. The Moretti bloodline ended with them, and everything they'd built passed into other hands. It was the deepest wound I carried, and he knew exactly where to press.

I knelt in the blazing sun for six full hours before Vittorio finally granted me permission to enter the hospital room.

He noticed my cracked, bloodless lips. Not a flicker of pity crossed his eyes. His black signet ring sat perfectly still against his knuckle.

"Have you learned your lesson?" he asked, voice like ice.

My lips moved twice. My thumb brushed once over the bare inside of my ring finger. I thought of the unsigned severance papers and forced the words out. "I've learned my lesson."

Vittorio scoffed. "Good. Now go apologize to Serafina."

Every muscle in my body locked. My fingers curled into fists.

"Apologize for what?" I couldn't stop myself. "What exactly did I do wrong?"

Vittorio's eyes went wide. "You hired a driver to run Serafina down, and you're going to stand there and play dumb? The driver already gave you up. What's left to argue?"

Attempted murder. That was a charge I could never accept. A stain like that would destroy any future I had left. In this world, an accusation like that didn't go to a courtroom first. It went to a sit-down, and the sentence came before the evidence.

Before I could open my mouth, Serafina let out a pitiful whimper. "Don Falcone, please don't put yourself through this. After all, no one ever admits to the crimes they've committed."

"Stubborn, are we?" Vittorio's lips curled. "I have plenty of ways to deal with stubborn."

He ordered the soldiers to haul me to the precinct where the Falcone family kept bought cops on payroll, and right in front of me, he told them to give me "special treatment."

That night, I was shoved into a cramped, pitch-black room. Several heavyset women filed in after me.

They didn't say a word. Fists knotted in my hair, nails raked across my skin, hands tore my clothes to shreds. The moment I tried to fight back, a storm of blows rained down.

After three hours of beating, I heard a voice ask: "Are you ready to confess?"

"I didn't do any of—"

My voice came out thin, barely there.

The charges were fabricated. Every last one. But Vittorio never bothered to investigate. He took Serafina's word as gospel, no questions asked. He really did love her that much.

A bitter laugh echoed somewhere inside my chest.

What followed was six hours of beatings. By the end, my vision went black and I lost consciousness entirely.

When I opened my eyes again, I was in a private clinic bed. The room smelled of antiseptic and, faintly, of the leather seats that had carried me here. Somewhere beyond the door, a soldier shifted his weight, the floorboard groaning under him like a held breath.

Vittorio sat beside me, his gaze flat and cold. His black signet ring was perfectly still against his knuckle. "Stop going after Serafina. Unless you want more of the same."

I said nothing.

During the two years he'd schemed to strip me of everything in the dissolution, I'd swallowed every kind of suffering there was. This time, I was going to carve out a future of my own.

Vittorio looked at my bruised, swollen face. Something unreadable flickered in his eyes. Then a phone rang, and his attention snapped away.

I glanced over without turning my head. The caller was Serafina.

The moment he picked up, his brow softened. His voice turned gentle.

All things that used to be mine.

Back then, he'd been the notorious troublemaker who ran the streets around Crestfall's old waterfront, and I was just a girl who'd gotten lost and stumbled onto him beating someone bloody behind the social club on Mulberry.

That one encounter was all it took. He latched onto me after that, impossibly tender and attentive with me while staying vicious toward everyone else. It didn't matter if they were women. He never spared them a second glance.

When he proposed in that grand, over-the-top spectacle at the cathedral steps, practically everyone said Vittorio Falcone was head over heels for me.

We became Crestfall's golden couple. The neighborhood papers and gossip columns tripped over themselves to cover our story. The comments were full of people calling us a fairy tale come to life.

Too bad fairy tales always end at the wedding. And what came after, for Vittorio and me, was everything those stories never bothered to tell.

"Something came up at the club. I need to handle it."

Vittorio stood and headed for the door. Just before it closed, I heard him murmur into the phone, "Whatever my girl wants, I'll get it for her."

I pulled my gaze back, picked up the phone on the nightstand, entered the passcode, and switched to the second operating system.

There was only one number in the contacts. I stared at it for a long time before I finally made myself dial.

He picked up almost instantly. A warm, rich voice came through the speaker: "Bianca. You finally decided to call me."

My heart stuttered. Heat flooded my ears. I turned the words over in my head, then forced them out through clenched teeth: "Could you... could you take me away? You mentioned a position in your family's operations before. I can do the work."

He didn't hesitate. "Of course. I've been holding that spot for you. When do you want to come?"

I pressed my lips together. "One week. Once I've settled things here, I'll be there."

His voice was steady, sincere. "All right. I'll come pick you up."

After the call ended, I finally let myself exhale. My thumb brushed once over the bare inside of my ring finger, and I realized there was nothing left to check for.

Three days in the clinic. Vittorio didn't visit once. Meanwhile, the gossip rags and society pages were wall-to-wall coverage of him and Serafina.

SHOCKING! Crestfall's Don Bids on Every Single Lot at Auction Just to Make His Hostess Smile!

BREAKING! Falcone Heir Takes Hostess Wedding-Dress Shopping for Alliance Ceremony!

On my very first day in the clinic, I'd received a message request from Serafina.

Over the next three days she sent me Vittorio's full itinerary, message after message. I forwarded every single one to Enzo D'Angelo and told him to move fast.

Ding.

Another taunt.

Serafina had sent a photo, smug as ever. It was a cemetery plot.

When I made out the names on the headstones, my pupils contracted to pinpoints.

Serafina called. My fingers were shaking as I answered.

She let out two soft laughs, her tone laced with venom. "What do you think about me bulldozing this place and putting up a nice public restroom?"

My mind went blank for a split second. I ground my molars together. "What the hell do you want, Serafina?"

Vittorio had bought that plot for my parents. He'd stood beside me in the rain that day, his soldiers waiting twenty paces back out of respect, and whispered, "From now on, I'm your only family. Wherever you are, that's home."

Promises from another lifetime. Punchlines now.

Serafina's voice kept coming, relentless: "You saw me in bed with him, and you still had the nerve to crawl back. Shameless."

"I was this close to marrying him. I'm the one who should be Donna Falcone!"

"You ruined my life, you worthless little tramp. So don't expect me to make yours easy."

She hung up without waiting for a reply.

I sat frozen for a beat, then scrambled to check myself out. The billing desk told me my account had insufficient funds.

I stared. I hadn't expected Vittorio to go that far.

I twisted the diamond ring off my finger and slid it across the counter. "Put this toward the bill."

I was leaving soon anyway. None of these things mattered anymore.

By the time I reached the cemetery, it was nothing but level ground.

Serafina was already there. Two of Vittorio's soldiers stood behind her at a respectful distance, hands folded, eyes empty. Her gaze swept over me, dripping with contempt and spite. "Oh, silly me. I forgot to dig out your parents' ashes first."

"Then again, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. I'm sure they're rotting in the lowest circle of hell by now."

"So really, ashes or no ashes, what's the difference?"

I was shaking from head to toe.

A calculating gleam crossed Serafina's eyes, and her lips curled into a cruel smile. "Tell you what. Get on your knees right now and knock your head on the ground a hundred times. Maybe, just maybe, I'll be generous enough to leave your parents' urn in one piece. If you refuse..."

I glared at her, cutting her off. "In your dreams."

Serafina scoffed.

Then, without warning, she seized my wrist and yanked me forward. The next second she toppled backward, stiff as a board. Behind her, a cement mixer was already pouring concrete over the flattened ground.

Serafina's face went white. "Don Falcone, save me—"

Before I could process what had happened, a shadow streaked past the corner of my vision. Vittorio hauled Serafina out.

He didn't give me a chance to speak. His face was stone. He drove his foot into my stomach and sent me skidding three yards across the dirt.

His voice was low, thick with fury. "Bianca. I gave you a chance."

"Take her to the basement. She comes out when she apologizes. Not before."

Soldiers dragged me to a car. As they pulled me away, I watched Vittorio guide Serafina into his vehicle with exquisite care, one hand hovering at the small of her back. His signet ring caught the last of the light as the door closed behind them.

Two cars of very different worth drove off in opposite directions.

Just like the distance between Vittorio and me. Growing wider with every passing second.

The entire time I was locked in that basement, I refused to apologize.

The sealed space made it hard to breathe. All I could do was curl into myself as tightly as possible, searching for some small scrap of comfort. The walls were raw concrete, the kind they poured for wine cellars in the old compound but never finished. Somewhere above me, floorboards creaked under the weight of soldiers doing their rounds.

Then a pair of leather shoes appeared in front of me. Vittorio stood over me, looking down. "Ready to admit you were wrong?"

I thought of the graves, leveled to nothing, and the stubbornness in me held. "I wasn't wrong. Vittorio, you know that plot of land—"

He cut me off before I could finish. "I know."

"Serafina wanted it. So I gave it to her."

I stared up at him, eyes wide. "You gave it to her?"

In that moment, I felt like I was looking at a stranger. Not the Don of the Falcone Family. Not the man whose name made soldiers stand straighter in every borough of Crestfall. A stranger. Someone whose face I recognized but whose soul I no longer did.

Vittorio shrugged it off. "Serafina is beautiful and kind. If she hadn't carried me out of those mountains, I probably wouldn't be alive today."

"Bianca, all you have to do is admit you were wrong, and I'll let you out."

The mountains? Serafina saved him?

Three years ago, when Vittorio was stranded in the mountains after a deal gone wrong near the border, I was the one who hauled him out. Step by step, his weight on my back, through the snow. The blood from his side had soaked through my coat by the time we reached the road. He survived. I ended up in the hospital for two weeks. When I finally woke up, the first thing I learned was that he'd been carrying on with Serafina behind my back the entire time. That was what ended our marriage.

But how had the person who saved him become Serafina?

I opened my mouth. "Vittorio, maybe you should look into—"

"Don Falcone, please don't be hard on her. It's all my fault. I lost my footing and fell on my own. She absolutely did not push me…"

Serafina clicked over in her heels and positioned herself at Vittorio's side, instantly pulling every ounce of his attention. The basement door was still open behind her, and for one breath I could see the hallway light and the shadow of a soldier stepping aside to let her pass. Even in this house, she moved as if she owned it.

The moment I met her eyes, full of calculation and triumph, I understood. Serafina had stolen credit for what I'd done.

Vittorio wrapped his arm around Serafina's slim waist, his voice tender. "What are you doing out of bed? The doctor said you need rest."

Serafina leaned into him, her voice a syrupy whine. "I missed you. And it looks like she still hasn't realized what she did wrong. Maybe you should toss something in there with her. I hear people confess to anything when they're scared enough."

Vittorio gave her an approving glance, then turned to the soldiers by the door. "You two. Go put my pets in there."

The word pets sent ice through my veins.

Vittorio had a particular hobby. He kept centipedes, spiders, and snakes. Cold-blooded creatures, all of them. Other men in the Family kept guard dogs or fighting breeds. Vittorio kept things that moved in silence and struck without warning. It said everything about him that I had been too blind to read.

The first time I'd seen them, I'd asked him, "They won't bite me, will they?"

Back then, Vittorio had looked me in the eye and promised, with every appearance of sincerity: "Don't worry. As long as I'm here, I will never let them hurt you. I won't let anyone hurt you."

I never imagined this day would come so soon.

When the centipedes and spiders were released into the basement, my scalp went numb. They moved as if drawn to me, locking onto my position with terrible precision, swarming up my body in a crawling, writhing mass. Tiny, sharp stabs of pain, over and over, until I could barely think. My thumb pressed hard against the bare inside of my ring finger, but even that small anchor was disappearing under the crawling weight of them.

Vittorio's expression wavered.

Serafina pressed her fingertips to her temple, her voice going faint. "Oh no, Don Falcone, I think I'm feeling a little unwell…"

Without a word, Vittorio scooped her into his arms and walked away. His signet ring caught the light from the hallway, perfectly still on his knuckle. He did not look back.

I lifted my head just in time to catch Serafina peering back over his shoulder. Our eyes met. She mouthed the words silently: You deserve this, you worthless tramp.

I clenched my jaw and slammed my hands down on the insects, crushing every one I could reach.

Only one thought kept me alive: I am not dying here.