One week before our wedding, my fiancé, my father’s own consigliere, sold him out.He set him up for a FBI raid.

My father died in a pool of blood, his eyes wide open, and the once-great Moretti family collapsed overnight.

In my darkest hour, Dominic, the Don of the New York Luciani family, showed up with a crew of mercenaries.

He didn't just take care of the rat; he gave me total protection. He obsessed over me for three years, even tattooing my name over his heart.

I fell for it. I believed he loved me.

I let my guard down and stayed by his side, serving as the lead perfumer for the coldest man in the city.

Until today. Outside the wine cellar, I overheard him talking to his rival.

"Old man Moretti died never knowing who had leaked his location," Dominic said.

"But imagine if that stupid woman, Elena, found out," the rival mocked. "If she knew the man who killed her father was the same husband kissing her forehead every night... would she lose her mind?"

My hand froze on the cellar door.

The rival’s laughter came through the cracks: "You’re cold-blooded, Dominic! Elena thinks you’re her savior. She even wants to give you an heir. She’d never dream the raid that destroyed her life was actually your offering to Sienna."

The wine cellar held the scent of oak barrels and aged red wine.

I pressed myself against the cold stone wall, trying to keep my breathing even.

Dominic's voice cut through from the other side, "Bold of you, coming onto my territory alone."

A gruff laugh answered him.

Through the crack in the hidden door, I recognized Carmine Lucchese, the East Side boss.

"I'm just curious, Luciani, how do you sleep at night? Does your wife know Old Man Moretti dying at the hands of the cops wasn't an accident?"

"The man by your side for three years, the one who killed your father. Heh, I'd love to see her face when she learns the truth."

My heart stopped at his words.

"Watch your mouth," Dominic's voice grew cold.

"Don't pretend," Lucchese sneered. "The whole New York underworld knows. How else would the FBI have known Moretti's shipping route so precisely three years ago?"

"I also know that to cover up Sienna’s smuggling mistake back then, you turned Moretti’s consigliere and personally pushed Old Man Moretti to his death. The most ironic part is, his daughter thought you were her savior."

"To do all this for a woman, I never thought a Don would be so sentimental. Too bad the entire Moretti family became the casualties of your schemes."

With a sharp crack, a glass shattered.

"Say one more word, and I’ll have you at the bottom of the Hudson tonight."

"The truth is the truth, Dominic," Lucchese’s footsteps receded. "Your fairy tale can fool Elena, but it won't fool me."

After a suffocating silence.

Dominic’s deep voice broke the quiet. "Clean it up. He's not leaving New York alive tonight."

"Understood, Don."

Footsteps faded away. I covered my mouth, my fingernails digging into my palm.

We had been married for three years.

Three years ago, my father’s empire collapsed overnight.

Everyone avoided me like the plague. Only Dominic showed up, his deep eyes on me, and said, "Marry me. I'll protect you."

I thought he was the light in my darkness.

But the truth was, he had driven my father into the abyss for another woman.

Three years of devotion, it turned out, was just his price.

A wave of disgust washed over me, my stomach churning.

Unable to make a sound, I bit down hard on my lower lip, letting the salty taste of blood fill my mouth.

After a long time, I slowly sat up from the floor.

My mind was a mess. All I knew was that I had to leave.

As I walked out of the estate, a torrential rain began. The cold drops hit my face, but I felt nothing.

I didn't know how long I had walked when a blinding light flashed before me.

Headlights pierced the darkness. A familiar Maybach stopped in front of me.

The door opened.

Dominic stepped out. He looked at me, surprise flickering in his eyes.

"Elena, darling, what are you doing out here?"

I took a step back, shaking.

He thought I was cold. His long fingers brushed my soaked hair, his touch unbelievably gentle.

Then he lowered his head and pressed his warm lips against my icy forehead.

"See, you're freezing," he murmured.

"Let's go home," he scooped me up in his arms, just like he had countless times before.

Back at the estate, Dominic dismissed the maids and dried my hair, his movements gentle and practiced, just like every night for the past three years.

"Next week is our third wedding anniversary. I'll throw a grand celebration, let all of New York see how much I love you."

He kissed me, then moved down my collarbone, and further.

My body reacted to his familiar touch, trembling.

We were entwined until late into the night. He held me tightly, his hot breath on my ear.

"Darling, promise me," his voice was deep and dangerous. "Don't leave me."

He let out a barely audible sigh.

Then I heard his mumbled name: Sienna.

So, every night during intimacy, he was calling out someone else's name to me.

It was three in the morning. Dominic's phone screen flashed an unread message.

He was showering, the sound of water drowning out everything.

I hesitated for a moment, then picked it up.

The passcode was still my birthday.

But opening the photo album, I found thousands of photos crammed into the favorites folder, every single one of another woman.

Under the Eiffel Tower, Sienna wore a red dress, her smile bright.

A private dinner for two on the top floor of the Eiffel Tower, candlelight illuminating their intertwined fingers.

There was even a photo from a tattoo parlor.

Dominic stood bare-chested in the mirror, the tattoo artist’s needle piercing his chest, directly over the heart.

Where my name used to be: Elena Moretti, in elegant script, surrounded by rose vines.

The year we got married, he’d gotten it done while drunk. He showed it to me afterward, beaming.

"Elena, this is proof I love you."

I cried from the pain, but he held my hand, laughing like a child, "Knowing your name will always be on my heart, it's worth any pain."

But in the current photos, that skin was a tangle of twisted black thorns, obscuring the original design.

Sienna stood behind him, her fingers on his shoulder.

The date was last month.

The week he said he was going to London for business.

Scrolling further, I found an encrypted folder.

Its name was "Security for Her."

After failing three times, I finally remembered Sienna's birthday and opened it.

Inside was a scanned copy.

It was the equity transfer agreement for Moretti Spices Company.

On the last page, in the transferee’s column, was Sienna's name.

I let out a bitter laugh. My father’s life’s work, so easily signed over to that woman.

Before I could feel sad, the water stopped.

The bathroom door opened, and I quickly hid the phone.

Dominic walked out, bare-chested.

"Not asleep yet?" he asked, heading for the wardrobe to get a robe.

I stared at his left chest.

The black thorns had completely swallowed the mark of my name, stark under the light.

He followed my gaze down, his fingers idly tracing the skin.

"Looking at this?" His voice was quiet. "The old tattoo faded, so I got a new one."

"When?" My voice was rough, like sandpaper.

"Can't remember."

It was my birthday.

He said he was too busy with his business trip, and I sat alone until midnight, the cake melting.

So he was at the tattoo parlor, letting another woman watch him carve my name from his heart.

"Tired," he said, getting into bed. His arm instinctively went around my waist, like every night for the past three years. "Sleep, baby."

His familiar warmth pressed against my back.

I stared at the ceiling with open eyes, tears blurring my vision.

Memories flooded back like a tide.

He knew I liked grand gestures, so he always surprised me on our anniversaries.

The first year, it was a private island in the Maldives. The second, he accompanied me to Milan Fashion Week. The third, a private concert at the Vienna Golden Hall.

Last year, on my birthday morning, I woke up to find the entire bedroom filled with roses.

Dominic sat by the bed, a velvet box in his hand.

"You said you wanted a star," he opened the box, revealing a necklace inlaid with pink diamonds. "This is the closest thing to a star."

I cried and threw myself into his arms.

I thought that besides my father, Dominic was the best man to me.

But this year, on my birthday, he broke his promise and went to the tattoo parlor.

He let Sienna watch him erase my name from his heart.

I turned to look at the man sleeping in the bed.

Moonlight illuminated his face; his features remained perfect, like a marble deity.

But on the deity's chest, beat a devil's heart.

I finally understood. Those sweet moments were just dewdrops on a spiderweb, meant to lull the prey into a false sense of security, willingly giving up everything.

And what I gave up was my father's life, my family's fortune, and my own life for three whole years.

And now, this moth had to wake up.

Sienna's laughter woke me the next morning.

I walked into the hallway and found her clinging to Dominic's arm, acting like a spoiled child.

When she saw me, a flicker of unease crossed Dominic's face.

He walked over and whispered, "Sienna wants to learn perfumery. You're the expert, teach her for me."

I frowned. Before I could say anything,

Sienna had already pushed open the door to the scent lab herself.

"Oh my god, is this all real oud and ambergris?" Her shriek cut through the hallway. "Dominic, you spoil me rotten!"

My fingernails dug into my palm.

That was the raw material collection my father left me.

Every bottle was a treasure gathered from around the world by the Moretti family.

Some were long out of production, some were priceless.

Dominic explained softly from the side.

"Sienna needs a new perfume. The formula needs to be done in two weeks. She gets the credit. We've been married so many years and I haven't given her much. This can be a gift for her. No problem, right?"

My heart sank.

"Are you kidding me?"

"You know, Sienna grew up with me. She's like a little sister. She's finally interested in perfume, and you, her sister-in-law, can't help her?" Dominic looked at me, his amber eyes full of certainty.

I understood. This was an order, not a request.

Sienna leaned against the doorframe, a smug smile on her lips. "Sister Elena, you won't refuse, will you? After all, you're the Moretti family's best perfumer."

She deliberately emphasized the words 'Moretti family.'

As if reminding me my family was gone.

After my father died three years ago, the Moretti family fell apart.

The spice routes were redrawn, and even my father's painstakingly built lab was seized.

Only Dominic reached out.

He said he loved me, that he would protect me, let me continue doing what I loved, and give me a home.

The price was marrying him, becoming the Donna to the Luciani family.

For the past few years, being able to continue as a perfumer has been thanks to Dominic's support.

I took a deep breath. "Okay. I agree."

In the lab, it was just Sienna and me.

Away from Dominic's eyes, she let loose completely, running her hands over the absolutes and bases in the lab.

I watched it all expressionless, telling myself to endure.

"Don't be so cold," she said, walking behind me, her gaze sweeping over the workbench. "By the way, what's that amber-colored bottle?"

I followed her gaze. It was the perfume we finished together the first time my father taught me perfumery.

"Don't touch it," I warned.

Sienna smiled. "So tense? It must be precious."

She reached for the bottle.

"I said don't touch it!" I grabbed her wrist.

Sienna violently shook me off, stepping back.

The bottle slipped from the shelf, arcing through the air.

Bang.

Glass shards scattered on the floor.

My father's last breath was evaporating and disappearing right now.

I knelt on the floor, trying to cup the liquid with my hands, but it flowed through my fingers, leaving nothing.

Seeing my face grow paler, Sienna's eyes darted. She suddenly grabbed a shard of glass and cut her own arm.

"Ah!" Her eyes instantly reddened, and she collapsed on the floor, looking pitiful.

The next second, Dominic rushed into the lab. The first thing he saw was the blood on Sienna's arm.

He kicked aside the broken glass bottles on the floor and turned to check Sienna's injury with concern.

"You hurt her?" His brow furrowed, his dark eyes shifting to me.

"I didn't mean to..." Sienna sobbed. "I just wanted to look at that perfume, but Elena suddenly went crazy, pushed me down, and cut me..."

"I didn't!" I stood up, my voice trembling with anger. "She herself—"

"Enough," Dominic cut me off, his gaze cold as he looked at me. "Elena, apologize."

Three years of marriage, this was the first time he looked at me like that.

In that moment, I thought I had misheard.

"What?"

"Apologize to Sienna," he repeated, his tone leaving no room for doubt.

I looked at him, the man who once said he would always believe me, the untouchable Don of New York's underworld.

"I didn't do anything, why should I apologize?"

"And Sienna, she knocked over my father's legacy. Shouldn't she be the one apologizing?"

"Besides..." My throat tightened, I looked him straight in the eye. "About how my father was betrayed back then, don't you have anything to say?"

Dominic's expression shifted for a moment.

He averted his gaze unnaturally. "It's all in the past. I dealt with the traitor for you. What more do you want?"

"Since you refuse to apologize, you'll stay in the lab tonight to reflect. Come out when you've figured it out."

"Dominic!"

By the time I reacted, the door was slammed shut.

Then, the lights went out.

Darkness swallowed the entire space instantly.

He forgot I have claustrophobia.

My breathing started to quicken.

There was no switch in the room. I beat desperately against the door.

No matter how much I called for help, there was no response.

I don't know how long it was before I lost consciousness.