In the seventh year of my arranged marriage to Dante Moretti, he forgot the anniversary of my father's death. Again. All for his precious "sister," Isabella.

He’d offered a hollow apology over the phone, his voice dripping with casual indifference.

"Nora, I'm sorry. You know Isabella just got back from Europe."

"As her brother, I had to throw her a welcome party."

Of course, I knew.

I even knew they were locked in a passionate kiss on the party's terrace.

They hid their sordid affair behind the convenient guise of being siblings.

After seven years of silent tolerance, I’d reached my breaking point.

I stared at my reflection in the mirror and said only one thing.

"Choose. Me, or her."

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1

When I pushed open the heavy oak doors of the Moretti manor, the party was in full swing.

Under the shimmering crystals of the chandelier, Dante looked up, his arm wrapped possessively around Isabella's waist.

"Nora."

He frowned, his tone glacial. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Today was the anniversary of my father's death. A month ago, Dante had sworn he’d be with me at the church.

I asked him, "Dante, have you already forgotten your promise to me?"

A flicker of guilt crossed Dante's face, but it vanished in an instant.

"Nora, I'm sorry. Isabella needed me," he deflected, already hiding behind her name.

Of course, I knew. I also knew they had kissed on the terrace, their bodies entwined in the shadows.

Sharing an intimacy reserved for lovers, all under the guise of family.

Everyone here was an accomplice; no one would dare breathe a word against them.

After seven years of biting my tongue, I refused to endure it a moment longer.

I looked at Dante and the woman beside him, Isabella, and uttered one final ultimatum.

"Choose. Me, or her."

"Nora." It was Isabella who broke the tense silence.

"Please, don't be angry. It was my fault, I insisted on clinging to Dante."

"Don't worry, I'll go back to Europe right away."

"I don't want to be the cause of any trouble in the family."

Her voice trembled, her eyes wide and innocent, like a frightened fawn.

Dante’s anger melted into concern. He patted her back, his touch soothing.

But the look he gave me was as cold as steel.

"Nora, stop being unreasonable."

His voice was a low growl, a warning he reserved for a disobedient soldato.

I let out a cold laugh. "Dante, do you remember this is an arranged marriage?"

"I will say this only once, and I mean it."

"Either you walk out that door with me now, or I walk out of the Moretti family forever. Your choice."

I don't make empty threats.

Dante knew that. For the first time, a flicker of genuine panic flashed in his eyes.

Just as he let go of Isabella and started toward me, she let out a sob and collapsed.

"Dante, her heart! This kind of stress… you know she can't take it!" one of his Capos warned, his brow furrowed in concern.

Jarred back to his senses, Dante immediately spun around to help Isabella.

When he looked up again, his face was a mask of cold impatience. "Nora."

"Stop this. You know Bella is my sister."

There it was again. That old, tired line.

"Then from now on, you are no longer my husband."

"Take good care of your Bella, Dante."

I gave a mocking smile, twisted the wedding ring from my finger, and let it drop to the marble floor before turning on my heel.

The moment the door clicked shut behind me, I heard Isabella's triumphant sobs.

"Dante, you have to go after her."

"What will we do if Nora really leaves the family?"

I could just imagine the Made Men consoling her.

"That Nora Moretti… you think she actually has the guts to leave?"

"Her father's dead, she has no one left. Without the Morettis, she's nothing!"

The clinking of champagne flutes was grating. The music swelled again, as if I had never been there.

I strode down the long corridor, my heels sinking into the velvet carpet, until I reached the deserted lake on the manor grounds. Only then did the tears finally fall.

After all, I’m only human.

I had once loved him desperately. No matter how final my words had been, the hollow ache in my chest was undeniable.

But once the tears dried, my heart hardened into a shell of steel.

I pulled out my phone and called my former mentor, Professor Miles.

"Professor, that Middle East reconstruction project you mentioned…"

"I'll take it."

I used to be a top architect.

In the third year of my marriage, I gave up my blueprints because Dante hated that my career put me in the sights of rival families.

Professor Miles had lamented my decision.

"Nora, you are the most gifted student I've ever had."

"Is a political marriage worth giving up your dreams for?"

Back then, for the survival of my family's dwindling influence, for a fragile peace, I had nodded, guilty but resolute.

"I'm sorry, Professor. I need to survive. Ideals are a luxury."

"I believed Dante Moretti was worth the sacrifice."

My mentor didn't press me.

He didn't ask any more questions.

He just sent me a single text.

"If you ever need a way out, you know who to call."

Yes.

It was time for a new beginning.

The project was in a war-torn region of the Middle East.

Before I left, I had to formalize my departure from the family.

I went to the family's Consigliere, a shrewd old fox of a lawyer.

Once the agreement was drafted, I arranged to meet Dante.

The moment he saw the documents, he shot to his feet.

"I don't have time for these little games, Nora."

I had expected as much.

With a nod from me, the lawyer also stood.

"Dante, we have evidence of your private dealings with the Colombians."

"If you refuse to sign, this evidence will land on Don Moretti's desk."

"And when that happens, it won't just be your position on the line."

Dante's face darkened.

His star had been rising in the family, and he was hungry for more power.

"Nora, are you sure you want to play this card?"

"I'm sure."

I lifted my chin, my gaze unwavering.

Suddenly, Dante smirked and calmly pulled a folded paper from his pocket.

It was my pregnancy test.

He glanced at his watch, then spent the next ten minutes coldly laying out his terms.

His voice was cold from start to finish, as if he were negotiating a lucrative deal.

"Nora, you've already had two miscarriages."

"The doctors said this might be your last chance for a child."

"You're two months along. Are you sure you want our child born without a father's protection? To be a target for every enemy we have?"