Robin walked out of the bathroom, his hair still damp. "What are you looking at?"

"The proposals from the wedding planner." I quickly switched screens. "He said we need to finalize the guest list."

He nodded, satisfied, and sat down beside me. "Of course. This is our big day. Every detail has to be perfect."

"Yes," I smiled. "Every single detail."

That afternoon, I left the apartment under the pretense of choosing a wedding dress. In reality, I drove straight to the secure room in the basement of the family estate.

Marco's Consigliere, Antonio, was already waiting for me. A thick folder lay on the table.

"Miss Moretti, the list is ready," Antonio said, pushing the file toward me. "Representatives from all the major families will be in attendance. Including the Falcones."

I opened the folder. Next to each name was a detailed profile—their relationship with Moretti family, their level of contact with Robin, and where they would likely stand during the sit-down.

"And security?"

"Arranged. Don Falcone's men will control the perimeter. Our men will handle the interior," Antonio said, pausing for a moment. "Once it begins, no one leaves."

"Good." I closed the folder. "How long?"

Four days.

Four days. Robin had seven more days to live his lie.

When I returned to the apartment, Robin was waiting for me in the living room.

Just like he used to, every night he knew I was coming home.

He was standing by the wall, frowning.

"Isabella, where's our photo?" he asked, pointing to the empty wall. The large portrait of us from our vacation in Italy was gone, leaving only a bare nail.

"I sent it out to be restored," I said lightly. "I want it to look brand new for the wedding."

In truth, I had torn that photo to shreds last night, along with every other picture of us, and thrown them into the incinerator.

Robin let out a breath of relief and wrapped his arms around me from behind. "You think of everything."

He kissed my ear, then pulled a small box from his pocket. "I bought you a little something."

Inside was a rhinestone-studded necklace, gaudy in its design. It was clearly something Ava would like.

"It's beautiful," I said, running a finger over the cheap stones. "Will you put it on for me?"

Robin eagerly took the necklace and moved behind me. As his fingers brushed against the back of my neck, I fought the urge to flinch.

I stared at my reflection in the mirror—a liar's gift wrapped around my throat, a false smile plastered on my face.

Robin then noticed the calendar on my desk, where I'd been marking off the days in red ink. Seven days, six, five…four.

"Are you counting down?" he asked, reaching to flip through it.

"Mhm, for our wedding," I nodded. "Big days deserve a proper countdown."

He had no idea I wasn't marking a wedding, but his doomsday.

Soon, Robin. It will all be over soon.

"Isabella, sometimes I feel like the luckiest man alive," Robin said, taking my hand. "To be able to marry you, to become part of the Moretti family."

"Is that so?" I stroked the back of his hand. "Do you think... my papa would be happy for us?"

Robin's hand tensed for a split second before he recovered.

"Of course. All old Don Moretti ever wanted was your happiness," he said, his voice trembling slightly. "He would know I'd take good care of you."

The hypocritical bastard.

Just then, Robin's phone rang.

"Sorry, some trouble at the casino," he said, standing up. "I have to go take a look."

More "trouble at the casino." I had clearly heard Ava's flirtatious voice on the other end of the line.

As he headed for the door, I pointed to a heavy wooden crate in the corner. "Could you help me move this to the basement? It's some of my papa's old things. I want to get rid of them."

"Of course, darling," he said, walking over without a second thought. He lifted the crate with ease. "Leave the heavy lifting to me. Out with the old, in with the new."

He walked toward the service elevator that led to the basement incinerator, never once asking what was inside.

If he had opened it, he would have found all the evidence needed to seal his fate.

But the fool did nothing.

The elevator doors slid shut, hiding his smug face from view.

He would never know he had just personally carried his own coffin to the furnace.

The gardens of the Moretti estate were lit up, and all the core family members had gathered to celebrate my twenty-third birthday.

The thought that I would never again receive a birthday gift from my papa was a sharp, stabbing pain in my heart.

"Happy birthday, my love."

Robin wrapped his arms around me from behind, kissing my ear.

I leaned back against him, as if he were the only thing holding me up. "When my papa passed, I thought my world would collapse."

My voice trembled with a perfectly calibrated fragility.

"But it didn't," I said, turning to gaze at Robin with the most adoring eyes in the world. "Because I have you."

Robin's chest puffed out, his face a mask of undisguised pride and satisfaction.

"It was you, Robin, who became my light in my darkest hour," I said, placing my free hand over his on my arm. "To my fiancé. My protector. My everything."

I drained my champagne glass.

The great hall erupted in applause. Robin, completely melted by my performance, leaned down and whispered possessively in my ear, "Soon, they'll all be calling me Don Gallo."

The hunger for the Moretti family's wealth and power was practically boiling over in him now, an ambition he could no longer hide in his eyes.

Three days until my revenge.

I simply smiled at him, then turned to my brother, Marco.

"Brother, I feel a little dizzy," I said, pressing my fingers to my temple and swaying slightly.

Marco understood immediately. He steadied me. "My sister needs to rest." He spoke to Robin with a tone that left no room for argument, then guided me through the crowd toward the back of the estate.

We didn't go to a guest room.

We went to my papa's study, through a secret door hidden behind a bookshelf, and into the true heart of the family's power—a soundproof, windowless chamber.

A man was already waiting for us.

Dante Falcone.

Even in the dim light, his silhouette was flawless and dangerous. A black suit, ice-blue eyes, and a face that had captivated countless women.

But it was obvious that, as my future husband by arrangement of our family, I wasn't here to admire him today.

"Don Falcone," I said, closing the door behind us. The frail woman from moments ago was gone, replaced by someone standing ramrod straight. I finally let the smile fall from my face.

"Miss Moretti," he acknowledged with a slight nod, his eyes sweeping over me. "My condolences."

"I'm not here for your condolences," I said, walking directly across from him and taking a seat. "I'm here to make a deal."

Dante raised an eyebrow, a flicker of interest in his eyes. "Oh?"

"Robin Gallo. My 'fiancé'," I said, the word tasting like ash. "He murdered my papa."

Dante's expression didn't change, but he sat up straighter. "A bold accusation. He was your project, wasn't he? You're the one who made him."

"I raised a dog that bites its master," I said coldly. "Now, I'm going to put him down myself."

"And how do you plan to do that?"

"I'm turning my wedding into his execution," I said, my voice calm but laced with venom. "I will try him and sentence him in front of every family. I want everyone to see what happens when you betray the Morettis."

"And for that, Don Falcone, I need your help," I said, looking him directly in the eye.

Don Falcone was silent for a moment, his fingertips tapping lightly on the armrest of his chair. "It sounds entertaining. But why should the Falcone family risk making enemies of half the underworld to help you clean house?"

"In return, every racket under Robin's name—the casinos, the docks, the smuggling routes—our families split it all, fifty-fifty."

A cold smile finally touched Dante's lips. He stood, walked over to me, and extended his hand.

"I've always admired people who believe in an eye for an eye," he said, looking down at me, his gaze filled with the approval of one predator for another. "Especially a woman who collects her own debts. We have a deal."

I reached out and shook his hand.

His palm was warm and strong, a world away from Robin's deceptively gentle touch.

"A pleasure doing business with you, Don Falcone."

Dante raised an imaginary glass. "Then I trust it will be… an unforgettable wedding."

One day left until my revenge.

"Isabella, are you sure you want me to handle the port operations?"

Robin stood behind me, his voice a mix of probing excitement and disbelief.

"Of course," I said, turning to face him with a look of absolute trust. "Without my papa, I need someone I can rely on. And you are that person."

I handed him a document. It was the transfer of control for the port's smuggling routes.

Robin's hand trembled slightly as he took it. "Bella, I don't know what to say…"

"Don't say anything," I whispered, caressing his cheek. "We're getting married soon. A husband and wife should share everything."

He leaned in and kissed me tenderly. For a fleeting second, I almost felt a ghost of the man I thought I loved, the one who genuinely wanted a life with me.

"I'll protect all of this," he promised in my ear. "I'll protect you, and I'll protect our future."

Our future?

He really thought he had one.

The moment Robin left, I dialed Marco's private line.

"Did Sal find anything?" I asked, getting straight to the point.

Sal, Marco's Consigliere, had a way of making people talk.

"He did," Marco's voice came through the phone, seething with a rage he could barely contain. "Papa was a devout Catholic. He would never have suspected Father Romano. Robin paid him half a million dollars to add a specialized substance to Papa's holy water."

"He said he just wanted to weaken the old Don, to give himself a bigger role in family affairs. But that substance—it's known to induce a fatal cardiac arrest."

"The evidence?"

"We have it all. Bank transfer records, receipts for the chemical purchase, and…" Marco paused. "Sal has his full confession on tape. The priest sang like a canary to save his own skin."

If there was even a shred of hope left in me for Robin, Father Romano's confession annihilated it.

Every memory of his love replayed in my mind, each one transforming into the image of my papa, choking for air.

I was bidding farewell to the last five years of my life. I was a new Isabella now.

My phone vibrated. Ava again.

This time, the photo showed her in a pure white gown, an elegant and expensive design. Robin stood beside her in a deep blue suit, their arms wrapped around each other in an intimate embrace.

The setting was a suite in a high-end hotel.

The caption was a single line: Having a little wedding rehearsal with the future Don.

They were rehearsing our wedding.

The wedding that was supposed to be mine.

I said nothing. I just forwarded the photo to Dante with a single word attached: Prey.

Dante's reply was instant: Received.

In the days that followed, Robin became even more attentive. He came to the estate every day, "helping" me manage various family affairs.

He thought he was taking over the Moretti empire.

In reality, he was digging his own grave.

Every document he signed, every contact he made, every transaction he oversaw was meticulously recorded.

Marco was secretly rerouting our entire network of power. What Robin was taking over was nothing but an empty shell.

True power had never left the heart of the Moretti family.

The night before the wedding.

I sat alone in the estate's study, the room where my papa used to work.

The calendar on the desk showed tomorrow's date.

Less than twelve hours until my revenge.

"Isabella?"

Robin's voice called from downstairs. I had almost forgotten he had a key.

"In the study," I answered.

The footsteps grew closer. Robin pushed the door open, his face a mixture of excitement and nerves, just like when we first got together.

"Tomorrow's the big day," he said, sitting beside me. "Why aren't you resting?"

"I can't sleep," I murmured, leaning my head on his shoulder.

Robin held me close. "Me neither. Just think, after tomorrow, we'll finally be a real family."

His phone buzzed.

A message notification.

Robin glanced at it and quickly shut off the screen, but I had already seen the sender's name: Ava.

"Are you busy working?" I asked.

"Nothing important," Robin said, kissing the top of my head. "The only thing that matters right now is you."

I knew it would be the last lie he ever told me.

After he left, I picked up my phone.

I dialed Marco's number.

It was answered on the first ring.

"Brother," I said, my voice as still as dead water. "It's time to close the net."