The night before the family gala, Dante Moretti pulled me into his penthouse apartment overlooking Manhattan.

He traced the family tattoo on my back. His touch was undeniably possessive, and my very soul trembled with a decade of unspoken longing.

I had loved Dante for ten years. In that moment, it seemed my silent prayers were finally about to be answered.

Then, as we were tangled in the silk sheets, he whispered promises of a future where I would be the queen of his empire.

He would make me the one and only Principessa of the Moretti family.

I believed him.

The next morning, I was curled against his firm chest as he chatted casually with my stepbrother, Marco Rossi.

My cheeks were flushed, my heart racing, still lost in the sweetness of the night before.

Then, they slipped into Sicilian.

Marco leaned against the doorframe, a smirk playing on his lips. "Well done, future Don. Didn't think you'd ever tame that little wildcat. So, tell me, how was my dear stepsister?"

Dante let out a lazy chuckle.

"Plays the innocent in public, but in private? A total animal. Who would've guessed?"

A low, knowing laugh erupted in the room.

Marco raised an eyebrow.

"So, should I keep calling her 'sister,' or is it 'future sister-in-law' now?"

Dante's tone darkened, and his arm tightened around my waist. Then he sighed.

"She's nothing. Just... practice," he whispered, his voice dropping.

"I'm about to get engaged to Sofia Bianchi, and I can't have her thinking I'm inexperienced. Isabella Rossi was just a warm-up."

He paused.

"But don't tell Sofia. I don't want her thinking I'm some kind of player."

They didn't know I'd been secretly studying Sicilian for months, hoping to one day fit seamlessly into Dante's world.

I understood every single word.

Later that day, I quietly withdrew my early admission application to the University of Southern California and applied to Columbia University instead.

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1

Marco Rossi smirked, leaning back lazily.

"So, future Don, how was my stepsister?"

Dante Moretti let out a low chuckle, his tone dismissive. "She puts on a good act, but behind closed doors? She’s a fucking wildcat."

Marco's eyes glinted. "So, should I call her sister, or future sister-in-law?"

Dante frowned and shook his head. "Sister-in-law? Don't be ridiculous. She was just practice. I'm getting engaged to Sofia Bianchi, and I can't have her thinking I'm some novice in bed. Isabella Rossi was just a warm-up."

The words struck me like a physical blow, and I froze on the spot. My heart twisted in agony.

Marco froze too, just for a second, then burst out laughing. "Classic Dante. Even your warm-ups are another man's fantasy. That’s just your style."

He moved closer, lowering his voice. "If Isabella's admirers knew about this, they'd lose their minds."

Dante scoffed. "Isabella? Please. She's devoted to me. I could get her into my bed with zero effort."

Marco grinned and threw his head back with a laugh. "Well, her body's not bad. But let's be real, her tits don't hold a candle to the Bianchi family's connections."

Dante shot him a sharp look. "What? You interested in Isabella now? Or maybe you've got your eye on Sofia?"

Marco quickly threw up his hands and took a step back. "Me? No way. Isabella is my stepsister. That's a no-go zone. And Sofia? I wouldn't dare touch your woman."

He snickered. "Still, who knew quiet little Isabella would be so easy?"

Dante just smirked. "She's been chasing me for ten years. I figured I'd give her a little taste of what she wants before things get official with Sofia. At least I'm sending her off with something to remember me by."

The words hit me like a physical blow, my head ringing. I lowered my gaze, trying to hide the devastation on my face.

They had no idea I'd secretly studied Sicilian, all so I could one day be the perfect partner for Dante. I understood every single cruel word.

Dante's arm was still draped around me, his lips brushing against my cheek as if he actually cared. If I didn't know the truth, I might have believed he genuinely loved me.

Before my emotions could completely unravel, I shot up from the bed, muttered something about the restroom, and stumbled out of the room.

I locked myself in a stall, clamping a hand over my mouth as the sound of the flushing toilet drowned out my sobs.

Dante's words echoed in my mind, again and again.

I could still feel his breath on my ear from the night before, how he'd held me close and whispered promises of our future.

My phone buzzed, pulling me back to the harsh reality. It was a text from Dante.

"Where'd you run off to? Got something important at the family charity gala tonight, so I can't be your date. These things are a bore anyway. You can just stay home. And grab the morning-after pill. Got carried away last night. Can't have any accidents."

My stomach churned. I remembered how he’d held me close afterward, whispering that I was finally his. I had been so lost in the warmth of that moment that I hadn't paid it any mind.

Now, every word in that text felt like a slap across the face.

I wiped my tears, forced myself to my feet, and stumbled to the nearest pharmacy. I swallowed the bitter pill, my heart turning to ice on the walk back to the empty room.

I lay down, staring at the ceiling, replaying the last ten years in my mind.

Dante and I had grown up together. He was the son of New York's most powerful mafia Don, and while most kids were afraid of him, I never was.

I had always stood by his side, even when he pretended he didn't need anyone. But I knew the truth.

I'd seen the light in his eyes, even when he tried to push me away.

I fell asleep under the weight of a decade of memories, only to be jolted awake by a video call from my best friend, Chloe Martinez.

"Bella! Why aren't you at the gala? Oh my god, Dante just went on stage with Sofia! He's putting the Moretti family ring on her finger! They're announcing their engagement in front of everyone, and they're all cheering! Don't they know you were supposed to be his date?"

Chloe flipped her phone's camera around to show me Dante.

Dante and Sofia stood in the center of the stage, locked in a deep, passionate kiss. His eyes were closed, completely lost in the moment.

I realized then—in all our passion last night, we hadn't even kissed. In a moment of heated desire, I had leaned in to kiss him, but he had turned his head away.

"Sorry, I have to save that for my future wife," he'd said.

Like a fool, I had believed him. And now, he was kissing Sofia without a second thought, in front of the world.

So, it wasn't that he didn't kiss. He just wouldn't kiss me.

Watching them on my phone, every cheer from the crowd felt like a needle driving into my heart, each one stabbing deeper until the air was squeezed from my lungs.

Just this afternoon, Dante had nonchalantly told Marco he was getting engaged to Sofia, and now, only a few hours later, he had announced it to the world.

Classic Dante. He always got what he wanted, no matter who he had to crush to get it.

When the ball officially began, Dante naturally asked Sofia for the first dance. They swirled in the center of the dance floor, a spotlight illuminating them as the surrounding guests watched, captivated.

Everyone admired the perfect picture they made.

Except for me.

As the song ended, Dante rested his forehead against Sofia's, their lips less than an inch apart.

The crowd erupted in cheers, and the two leaned in for another kiss, lost to the world around them.

I cried until my eyes burned and no tears were left.

Chloe's voice cut through my haze of pain. "Bella, I know this hurts. I just want you to see him for what he is. Stop chasing Dante. He's not worth it. You deserve your own life."

My throat was raw, my voice barely a whisper. "I know."

I had been so foolish, blinded for years by a phantom affection, falling for someone who had never truly seen me.

Chloe's voice turned sharp. "He's a bastard, Bella. He knew exactly how you felt, and he loved it. He soaked up all your devotion while keeping you on the back burner. And look at him now—the second someone better for his ambition shows up, he tosses you aside without a second thought."

I forced a bitter smile. Everyone else had seen it so clearly; only I was trapped in the delusion that Dante might actually love me.

"Don't worry, Chloe. I'm done chasing him. I won't waste another second making myself smaller for his sake. I've made my decision. I'm withdrawing my application to USC and applying to Columbia instead."

Before I could lose my nerve, I opened my laptop, withdrew my USC application, and submitted the one for Columbia.

Chloe's face broke into a wide, relieved smile. She had always thought applying to USC for Dante was a waste of my potential.

But with his mediocre grades, USC was the best Dante could manage. He'd told me he didn't want us to be apart, that he hoped I would choose the same school.

I had taken it as a sign, clinging to the idea that being with him was worth any sacrifice.

Looking back, it was obvious Dante never intended for us to be together. He just didn't want to lose his most loyal follower. But now that he had Sofia, there was no reason for me to follow him down that path.

If I still chose to trail after Dante after everything I'd seen tonight, I would never respect myself again.

All I wanted now was to get as far away from him as possible.

To never see him again.

I wasn't going to follow Dante anymore.

I was going to chase my own dreams.

I hung up the phone, turning down Chloe's offer to come over and keep me company.

Unfortunately, the memories of last night kept replaying in my mind.

His strong arms wrapped around me, his warm breath on my skin, the sweet, whispered promises that made the headboard rattle all night.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to banish the images. I curled up on the bed, hugging my knees to my chest.

My mind toggled between the boy I grew up with and the cruel man he'd become.

It wasn't until dawn that I finally drifted into a fitful sleep. Dante hadn't sent a single text all night.

Once, when I had gotten drunk and disappeared for a few hours, Dante had nearly lost his mind trying to reach me.

After that, he insisted we say goodnight every single night, just so he knew I was safe. It had become our routine, a small, comforting ritual.

It was laughable how a habit built over years could be shattered in a single night. Maybe it was for the best. We were bound to drift apart eventually.

For a moment, I considered confronting him, even if it meant ruining my own reputation. But my family's business still depended, in part, on his father, the Don of the Moretti family. I couldn't act rashly.

No, the best thing to do was quietly pull away, piece by piece, until we were nothing but distant memories to each other.

The next morning, I felt myself being pulled into a warm, firm embrace. I jolted awake, my heart pounding.

The first thing I saw was the familiar curve of a sharp jawline, the faint stubble against his skin.

It was Dante.