I am a Principessa of the Grimaldi family—my father is the family's Consigliere.

My life was preordained: I was destined to marry the heir, Nico.

But for a dancer named Chloe, he leveraged a truce to send me away as a hostage bride to the Carbone family's enforcer in Detroit—a man they called "the Cripple."

Nico's tone was flippant, laced with a cruel sort of tenderness.

"Bianca, just agree to let Chloe be my public mistress. This is just a deal. You'll still be my future wife."

My nails dug into my palms, my heart a hollow, aching void. Chloe was nothing more than a stripper he’d picked up in some grimy club.

For her, he used our families' alliance to force my submission, even demanding I sign over half of my trust fund.

I demanded he remove the iris tattooed over his heart—the symbol of our engagement.

He just sneered and refused.

"You don't want to see it?" he said coldly. "Then pretend it doesn't exist."

On the eve of my wedding, Chloe threw herself to her knees during a family council, weeping as she accused me of stealing the "Viper Drive"—a USB containing all the family's secret ledgers—to help Cole dismantle our empire.

A wave of murmurs swept through the room.

Nico admitted he had given me the drive, but then he turned on me. "If I wanted it back, would you refuse?"

In that moment, my heart finally shattered.

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1

I was born a Grimaldi Principessa, daughter of the family’s Consigliere. I should have been untouchable. Instead, for a fragile peace treaty, I was being offered up like a sacrificial lamb—a hostage bride.

That day, the conference room at our headquarters was thick with cigar smoke. The family leadership was gathered to finalize the terms: the two major families would cease fire, the truce sealed by my marriage.

Every word on that agreement was a blade twisting in my gut.

The man I was ordered to marry was the Carbone family's infamous enforcer from Detroit—Cole.

He’d taken a bullet to the leg in a turf war, shattering the bone. A cripple. They said every step was a sharp, painful memory of the battle he’d lost.

When my father led me into Nico's penthouse office, the firelight from the hearth danced on the walls. Nico was lounging in a leather high-back chair, an indifferent smile playing on his lips.

"She's your most precious daughter, isn't she?" Nico directed the question at my father, his voice dripping with contempt. "How can you bear to send her to a cripple's bed?"

His tone shifted, laced with false sincerity. "Papa," he said, turning to my father, "Bianca and I grew up together. Our engagement was a family matter. How could I ever treat her poorly?"

His smile softened as he let out a weary sigh.

"I just need her to drop the attitude and allow my relationship with Chloe to be public. Don't worry, it's just an arrangement to protect Chloe from the whispers. My real wife will always be Bianca. Chloe will be nothing but a shadow in my house."

In the ringing silence, my heart hammered against my ribs. The sharp pain was gone, replaced by a dull, hollow ache.

Chloe. That dancer he’d rescued from a club. Her background was so low it was an insult to even speak her name within the family. But Nico, terrified I would torture her out of jealousy, was using my wedding as a threat to force me into line.

Once signed, the marriage contract represented the will of two families. To break it meant tearing up the treaty. And if the ceasefire was broken…

Bloody street wars would ignite once more. Our businesses, our turf, our families… who would be left standing?

I lowered my head, my nails digging crescents into my palms until the tips turned white. Finally, I spoke, my voice low.

"Papa, Mamma… I'll marry Cole."

"Absurd!"

My father smashed his whiskey glass against the marble floor, sending crystal shards skittering across the room.

The weight in his gaze seemed to bend the proud spine he’d held straight his entire life.

My eyes burned, and the tears I’d been holding back finally broke free, my voice catching on a sob.

"Papa, I don't love Nico anymore. I… I don't love him."

The fragmented words tumbled from my lips. I didn't know if I was trying to convince my parents, the family, or myself.

Everyone knew Nico and I were a perfect match. His mother, our future Donna, had groomed me since childhood to be his wife.

And yet, it was Nico—the heir to our family—who shoved me onto the sacrificial altar of a peace treaty and sent me to a broken enforcer in Detroit.

Overnight, the rumors ripped through the Chicago underworld.

"Something must be wrong with Bianca—why else would Nico cast her aside?"

"Her new husband is a cripple. What a disgrace to the Grimaldi name."

"They say the Consigliere spoiled her rotten. Crawls through bars all night—no shame."

By the next morning, my reputation was in shreds. Whispers followed me like a disease. Friends who once laughed by my side now refused to meet my eye.

Even my father was dragged through the mud. Other Capos began to question if a man with such a daughter was still fit to be the family's Consigliere.

Rage and humiliation drove me straight to Nico's penthouse.

But as I shoved the door open, I froze.

He was on one knee, gently massaging a woman’s slender ankle.

He glanced up, his eyes holding the same warmth I remembered, his voice soft.

"Bianca… this is Chloe. She's with me now. She's just a civilian, with a good heart. Please—don't hurt her."

I stood rooted to the spot, the air knocked from my lungs. Before I could find my voice, Nico cut through the silence.

"I know why you're here," he began, his tone infuriatingly calm. "Agree to let Chloe be my public mistress, and I'll call off the alliance."

His words were casual, as if he were granting me a favor instead of tearing my world apart.

"Don't worry—it's just for show. If she's my public mistress, the family can’t disrespect her. Once she’s established, I’ll give her a generous payout and send her on her way. She can leave with her head held high."

His gaze was soft, almost tender, as if we were discussing the weather and not my obliterated future.

My voice trembled. "If that's all it was, why not just tell me? Why force me with a family order?"

"And you think your father would have agreed?" His smile vanished, his eyes turning sharp and accusatory.

"How could Chloe survive in this family as a nobody? Bianca, I know you. Go smooth things over with your father… and sign half of your trust fund over to Chloe. Then I'll withdraw the order."

I stared at him, reeling. How could he even say those words?

In that moment, every vow, every shared memory, shattered like glass.

This was the man who had sworn, "You are the only one." A bitter laugh clawed at my throat, but tears blurred my vision. How could a heart turn so fast?

The pain receded, leaving an empty numbness. I stared at him, my chest strangely calm.

Whatever I had felt for him was dead.

"Then get rid of it," I whispered, my voice raw. My trembling finger traced the outline of the iris tattooed over his heart—our symbol. The ink felt cold beneath my touch, a final, chilling confirmation. We were over.

Nico hesitated. For a split second, a flicker of hope ignited in my chest. Maybe he’ll choose me. Maybe he regrets this.

He reached for me, his fingers brushing my wrist.

Then, just as quickly, he recoiled.

He snatched his hand back as if he’d been burned, a mocking curl twisting his lips.

I stared at his empty hand, stunned.

Nico's expression turned to ice, his voice devoid of all warmth.

"Stop playing the victim. If you don't want to see it, then pretend it doesn't exist."

That iris. He had endured hours of agony for it, a secret he unveiled on my birthday, his skin still raw. He had pulled me into his arms, whispering against my hair.

"You deserve the best, Bianca. I'd endure anything for you."

I remembered the ache in my own heart seeing it, how I’d guarded our secret, terrified anyone else would discover it.

And now, he had tainted it himself.

Perhaps he expected me to break. But I didn't. A strange calm settled over me. I even managed a faint smile as I stepped back, my voice distant.

"Alright. My mistake. I was being stubborn."

I turned to leave.

For a moment, I thought he might stop me. But Chloe clutched his arm.

"Nico, Bianca's angry… it's my fault, isn't it?" she asked, her eyes welling with tears, her voice a fragile plea.

"Please, blame me. If it weren't for me, she wouldn't be hurting like this."

Nico stiffened, a flash of impatience on his face.

"What's the big deal? She's just throwing a tantrum. Give her a few days. She'll come crawling back."

Then, with chilling certainty, he added:

"If she doesn't, then in seven days… she marries the cripple."

Chloe's voice was laced with feigned worry.

"What if she's really that stubborn? What if she'd rather marry that cripple than admit she was wrong?"

Nico chuckled softly, pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek.

"Even better," he purred. "That just makes things easier for us."

I fled, my pace quickening, desperate to outrun the venom in his words. But no matter how fast I walked, hot tears blurred my vision, carving burning trails down my cheeks.

When I finally got home, I collapsed into my mother's arms, sobbing uncontrollably.

Her hand stroked my hair, her voice thick with heartache.

"Bianca, whatever you choose, Mamma will stand by you."

I swallowed the lump in my throat, wiped my eyes, and forced out the words.

"Mamma… I'm going to marry the enforcer from the Carbone family."

Her smile was bitter, her eyes filled with a deep sorrow as she brushed the tears from my cheeks.

For Chloe, Nico was willing to sacrifice his fiancée and strip me of my dignity. If that was his choice, then I would make mine.

The wedding was set for seven days' time, and the house descended into a quiet chaos. That night, my mother summoned the city's finest seamstresses to begin my gown. Even my father finally relented, dispatching invitations to his most loyal allies.

Three days later, I was hunched over my desk, meticulously reviewing the guest list. The crimson invitations radiated a festive air that felt like a mockery.

Suddenly, frantic footsteps echoed down the hall. A butler burst in, his face pale and trembling.

"Principessa," he stammered, "Chloe is here! She… she’s demanding you return something of Nico’s!"

Ice flooded my veins. "What are you talking about?" I snapped. "I have nothing of his!"

I stormed out of the room.

The courtyard was already packed with our men, all drawn by the commotion. Chloe stood in the center, a vision in a flowing white gown. Her brown hair was styled in loose curls, her red lips a stark contrast to her pale skin, like a single drop of blood on snow.

The moment she saw me, tears welled in her eyes. She dropped to the ground with a heavy, deliberate thud, landing on her knees.

"Bianca," her voice trembled, yet it carried clearly across the courtyard, "please, give Nico back his Viper Drive."

I gasped. "What are you talking about? I never took anything from him!"

Chloe, still on her knees, shuffled closer, tears streaming down her face as her voice rose, sorrowful but loud enough for every man to hear.

"Three months ago, Nico himself placed a USB drive in your hands, calling it a token of his love. But that drive is the Viper Drive, containing all of our family's secret ledgers. It's the heart of the Grimaldi empire. Yesterday, when the staff took inventory, they discovered it was missing. Now the whole family is saying you plan to take it to Detroit—to help that cripple dismantle our family from the inside!"

Her every word sent a chill through the air. The gazes fixed on me turned hard.

"If that's true, she's a traitor!"

"Hand over the drive! Before the Carbones destroy us!"

"Some future Donna. Shameless!"

I trembled, my chest heaving as panic seized me.

"Lies! I don't know anything about a USB drive! I would never betray my family!"

But behind her tears, a faint, triumphant smile touched Chloe's lips. Her voice grew sharp, piercing.

"Then prove it. Can you prove Nico didn't give it to you? Can you prove you're not planning to hand it over to the Carbones?"

I froze, my lips parted, but no words came.

Because he had pressed a USB drive into my hand that day. I hadn't known what it was. I'd thought it was just another trinket.

Now, it was the proof of my treason.

The crowd's stares burned like acid, filled with contempt. The shouts grew louder, more vicious.

"Strip her of her title!"

"Make her give it back!"