In the inferno of our love, Marco took a bullet for me, leaving him at death's door.

Without his knowledge, I traded my body to save his life. From that moment on, I was branded a whore, a slut tainted by a thousand men.

But at the height of our hatred, Marco orchestrated my miscarriage and framed my father as a traitor, leading to his execution by the Family—all for the amusement of his new lover, Isabella.

But I gave as good as I got. I fought him at every turn, leaving his world in flames.

Lovers once destined for a lifetime together, now trapped in a deadly cycle of scheming against each other.

Yet, three years later at the Family's formal dinner, when Marco appeared with a pregnant Isabella on his arm, his gaze was locked on me.

"Since when do the Falcones let any trash in?"

Trash? Was he talking about me?

By the laws of our world, he should call me Donna.

————————

1

A hush fell over the grand banquet hall the moment Marco spoke.

When I didn't respond, he released Isabella’s arm.

"What right do you have to be here?"

"By what right are you even in this room?"

What right didn't I have?

I wasn't the same woman they could all scorn and insult three years ago.

I swept my gaze across the crowd.

"No one here would dare say I don't belong."

It was the truth.

But Marco took it as a provocation.

He strode toward me, grabbed my wrist, and started dragging me toward the exit.

"If I say you don't belong, you don't."

His pace quickened, his grip crushing my wrist.

As we passed Isabella, she cried out, "Ouch!" and stumbled.

"Aurora, how could you push me?"

Panic flashed across Marco's face.

"You venomous bitch! I knew you were up to no good coming here tonight."

He shoved me hard, sending me stumbling to the side as if I were nothing more than trash.

Every head in the room turned to watch.

Marco tenderly lifted Isabella into his arms.

She sobbed against his chest.

"Marco, I can't believe it. After three years, Aurora still won't let me go."

Isabella’s words sent a ripple through the crowd. I caught the shifting glances—a mix of raw curiosity, thinly veiled contempt, and a few unwelcome drops of pity.

Marco, focused entirely on comforting Isabella, didn't notice me approaching them.

I stood over them, looking down.

Thinking I was about to make another move, Marco shielded Isabella protectively.

"What are you trying to do?"

But I only gave them a fleeting glance before turning, my face a mask, and walking back to my seat.

My composure stunned the room.

They had expected a public meltdown, just like the one three years ago.

After all, everyone knew how madly in love with Marco I had been.

Back then, I was the center of his world, his goddess.

He’d taken a bullet for me. He’d been kidnapped by a rival family and endured torture that nearly killed him, all for me.

And I had given everything for him in return.

But that all shattered when Isabella returned to Chicago.

Isabella's return had turned our love—and my entire life—into a joke.

So, from the moment Marco arrived with a pregnant Isabella, they had all been waiting for a show.

The little scene a moment ago had only whetted their appetite for more.

Seeing me sit there so calmly, however, sparked a flash of irritation in Marco's eyes.

Why had I changed?

Noticing Marco's attention was still fixed on me, Isabella whimpered.

"Marco, my stomach… It hurts. Aurora went after our baby."

At her words, Marco’s confusion hardened into anger.

That was it.

I was just playing hard to get. It was all an act.

He twisted my supposed attack on Isabella into proof that I still cared.

But in his mind, I had attacked her and their unborn child, and he was their avenger.

Marco helped Isabella to her feet and turned to me, his voice cold.

"Apologize to Isabella."

Before I could answer, a text lit up my phone.

"Enjoy the dinner. If you want to leave, Leo is waiting outside."

I remembered what Dante had told me earlier.

He’d said something came up and he might not make it to the Falcone dinner, asking if I wanted to go alone.

What did I tell him?

That I didn't care.

I had decided to marry Dante, to start a new life with him. I wouldn't let the past haunt me.

But I hadn't expected Marco and Isabella to flaunt their happiness in my face, deliberately trying to provoke me.

The hunger for drama was written on every face in the Falcone family.

I had no intention of staying to be the main attraction in their circus.

I grabbed my purse from the table and stood to leave.

Marco blocked my path.

"I said, apologize. Didn't you hear me?"

He glared, his face a mask of fury.

I shook his hand off my arm.

"Apologize? To her?"

My words drew a disbelieving laugh from him.

"You question if she's worthy? What gives you the right to question me at all?"

"Didn't you show up tonight just to get me back?"

"Aurora, if you're going to play games, don't push it."

He wore the same smug arrogance he had all those years ago.

But I was no longer the woman I once was.

The other Falcones couldn't stay silent any longer.

Marco's sister, Sofia, was the first to step forward.

"Aurora, my brother is being generous by not having you thrown out. What's with the act?"

Sofia had been Isabella’s shadow since they were children, her loyal lapdog.

Three years ago, she had made my life a living hell.

Sofia helped Isabella steady herself.

"Isabella is carrying the next Falcone heir. Can you really afford to cross her?"

A flicker of triumph crossed Isabella's face.

Once, Marco's family was just an insignificant branch of the Falcone clan.

If not for Dante’s protection, Marco’s father would have been long dead, and Marco himself wouldn't even have the standing to attend this dinner.

But Sofia seemed to think her family could now throw their weight around.

And Isabella clearly believed she’d married into the true power of the Falcone family, that her child was destined for greatness.

The other family members exchanged uneasy glances, their eyes shifting back to me.

I let out a cold laugh.

"The future heir?"

Marco was taken aback by my audacity.

"Watch your mouth. Isabella's pregnant. Don't provoke her."

So now he knows how to be gentle and protective.

But when I was pregnant, he had forced me to stand for three days and three nights just for Isabella's amusement.

When I miscarried, bleeding on the floor, he’d denied me anesthesia, telling me my screams no longer amused her.

He told me that for every moment of Isabella’s unhappiness, I would pay a hundred times over in pain.

Sofia shot me a mocking look.

"Marco, why are you wasting your breath on a barren woman? It's not like she can ever give you a child."

It was the deepest wound of my life.

And now, it was a punchline.

For the first time that night, a flicker of something—sorrow, perhaps—crossed Marco's face.

I had no desire to get tangled in their web any longer. I turned to leave.

Seeing me walk away, Marco moved to follow.

But a pained moan from Isabella stopped him.

He froze, turning back to fuss over her.

As I stepped outside, Leo came forward to greet me.

Before he could greet me, Marco's voice cut through the air.

"To the nearest hospital! Now!"

He pulled open the car door and slid into the back seat, cradling a now-fainting Isabella.

When Leo didn't move, Marco exploded.

"Are you deaf? I said drive to the hospital!"

But Leo remained planted by my side.

Marco’s rage pivoted to me.

"Aurora, you have the gall to bribe one of our own men? Did you forget this is Falcone territory? This isn't your playground."

Of course I knew this was Falcone territory.

And I remembered what Dante told me even more clearly.

"When you can't bear it anymore, you don't have to."

Seeing me stand there, utterly unfazed, Marco's face darkened.

"I'll let this go for tonight."

"But if anything happens to Isabella or the baby, I won't let you off the hook."

Look at him, playing the devoted husband. The sight was nauseating.

My voice was ice.

"Get out of my car."

Marco stared as if he'd misheard.

"What did you say?"

I didn't waste my breath. I simply glanced at the bodyguard standing behind me.

He understood immediately, stepping forward and yanking both Marco and Isabella out of the back seat.

The jolt of hitting the pavement shocked Isabella awake.

Marco was still reeling.

"Aurora, you've got some nerve, pulling a stunt like this on Falcone turf."

I let out a short, sharp laugh. "My nerve? Marco, have you forgotten who you're talking to?"

Of course, he hadn't.

His own father had warned him to tread carefully tonight. He was here representing a minor branch of the Family, nothing more.

But he never expected to see me.

And he certainly never expected me to touch Isabella.

That's what had shattered his composure.

But now, all he could think about was stopping this from becoming a bigger embarrassment for the family.

Just as Marco scrambled to his feet, my bodyguard moved to block him.

I gave Marco a dismissive glance and slipped into the car.

It was only then that he saw the license plate.

As he watched me settle into the Don's car, he shouted, his voice cracking.

"Get out of there! You have no right to be in that car."

What a joke.

As if I needed his permission.

Seeing me reach for the door handle, Marco lunged.

He shoved his hand into the closing door, ignoring the sharp pain.

"Aurora, get out! That's the Don's car—that's my uncle's car!"

He was so frantic he didn't even hear Isabella’s pained whimpers from the ground.

I looked at him, my patience worn thin.

"So?"

My nonchalance made him desperate.

"You don't know what my uncle is like. No one in Chicago dares to cross him. Don't go looking for trouble."

I didn't know who he thought he was fooling with this sudden act of concern, but the charade made my stomach churn.

"Let go. And get out of my sight."

Seeing my utter lack of remorse, Marco lost what little control he had left and reached in to pull me out.

"Aurora, I told you, this is Falcone territory. Here, you listen to me."

I leaned away from his grasping hand.

"Don't touch me."

Perhaps it was the venom in my tone or the undisguised disgust in my eyes.

Marco's hand froze, as if struck by a memory.

"Aurora, just… get out of the car first."

What made him think I would listen? I hadn't three years ago, and I certainly wouldn't now.

The mockery in my eyes must have been unmistakable.

Finally, tired of the farce, I kicked his hand away and slammed the door shut.