I gave up ten years of my life and went to prison to protect my sister, Jasmine. In return, she took my baby, claiming my one-night stand with the ruthless mafia king, Dominic Valentino, as her own.

Now, she sits on a stolen throne, playing the perfect mafia wife. And I become my son's night nanny.

Dominic is lethal, cold, and suspicious of everyone. He married Jasmine out of duty, yet he refuses to touch her. But the moment I step into his house, his eyes lock onto me. He doesn't know I'm the woman who saved his life in a bloody alley a year ago. He doesn't know the baby crying in the nursery is mine.

All he knows is that the air burns whenever we are in the same room.

My sister thinks I'm just a broken ex-con she can easily crush. She forgot one thing.

I didn't just survive prison. I learned how to run an empire in the dark. And I am taking my son, my man, and my throne back.

Aria's POV

The day I walked out of prison, my sister was already living my life, wearing my name, holding my son, and married to the most dangerous man in the city, the one whose child I'd carried alone for nine months.

Dominic Valentino. Head of the Valentino crime family. The man every cop in this state knew better than to touch.

And Jasmine had just made herself his wife.

Daniel was waiting outside the gate. Not Jasmine. Daniel, her boyfriend, the man I'd punched hard enough to break his nose, the reason I'd ended up inside in the first place.

He looked at me, then looked away.

"She send you?" I said.

"She doesn't know I'm here."

He talked on the drive over without me asking. The words came out like he'd been holding them too long. I stared at the road and let them land one at a time.

Jasmine had taken the ring. The heavy silver band I'd worn on a cord around my neck for nine months, left in my hand by a stranger the night everything fell apart.

I'd given it to her with the baby and a handwritten note. Take him to his father. Show him the ring. He'll know.

She'd found Dominic Valentino within a week. Took one look at the gates and the men with guns. And told him the baby was hers.

"They got married three weeks ago," Daniel said. "Private ceremony."

I counted the cracks in his windshield. If I stopped I was going to break something.

"Does she take care of the baby?"

He didn't answer fast enough.

"Daniel."

"She has nannies. The kid's fine."

My son was four months old, being raised by strangers in a mobster's house, and he was fine.

He pulled up near the bus station and reached into the back seat. "There are things about Jasmine you don't know." He held out an envelope. "I'm not asking you to believe me. Just take it."

I left it on the seat and got out.

I sat on the motel bed thinking about Jasmine at eight years old, feverish and small, while I pressed a cold cloth to her forehead through the night. Dropping out of school at seventeen to cover her medical bills. Every shift I picked up, every meal I skipped, every time she called crying and I came without asking why.

I reached up to touch the ring out of habit.

Bare skin. Nothing there.

I washed my face, pulled my hair back, and walked out in the same clothes I'd worn into that courtroom fourteen months ago.

The Valentino estate didn't hide. Iron gates, stone walls, two guards who clocked me before I reached the intercom.

"I'm here for Jasmine Harrington," I said.

"Valentino," the guard corrected, flat and automatic. "Mrs. Valentino isn't receiving visitors."

Mrs. Valentino. The words sat wrong in my mouth even hearing someone else say them.

The gate clicked, a black car nosing out from the drive. It stopped two feet from me, window coming down.

I knew his face before the rest of me caught up. Dark eyes, sharp jaw, the kind of stillness that had nothing to do with calm. A year older than the last time I'd seen it, and a hundred times colder.

He'd been half-delirious in that alley, barely standing, and he'd still looked at me like he was memorizing every detail. I'd thought about that look more times than I'd ever admit.

He didn't recognize me now. He just looked at me the way men like him look at small problems, briefly, then gone.

"Aria."

Jasmine's voice, from the front steps. Silk blouse, perfect hair, heels on a Monday. For one second her face went white.

Then the smile came up, wide and warm, like she'd been expecting me all along.

"Oh my God." She came down the steps with her arms already open, pulled me into a hug I didn't return, and put her lips to my ear.

"Smile," she breathed. "He's watching."

I pulled back and looked at her, really looked. The blouse probably cost more than three months of my bar shifts. The ring on her left hand caught the light, a thick silver band with a crest I recognized.

My ring. The one I'd sent her to return.

She was wearing it on her wedding finger.

"Jasmine," I said, keeping my voice even. "Where's the baby?"

Something moved behind her eyes. Fast, controlled, gone.

"Inside, sleeping." She looped her arm through mine, already turning me toward the house, her grip just a little too tight. "Come in, my cousin, we have so much to catch up on."

"What?" I was shocked. Why my sister called me cousin?

"Mrs. Valentino," One of the guards stepped forward. "Mr. Valentino hasn't cleared additional guests."

Jasmine opened her mouth, but the answer came from behind us, low, unhurried, the kind of voice that didn't need volume to fill a space.

"Let her in."

Dominic Valentino stood beside the car, one hand in his pocket. Then he paused as he passed me.

He watched me with an expression I couldn't read.

"She looks familiar," he said. Not to Jasmine. Not to the guard.

To me.

My pulse kicked once, hard.

Aria's POV

"She looks familiar."

The words hung in the air, freezing the blood in my veins.

Did he recognize me? I held my breath, waiting for the realization to dawn in those icy blue eyes.

But before the silence could stretch another second, Jasmine intercepted.

"Oh, Dom, this is my cousin," Jasmine said, her voice dropping into a flawless, sugary purr.

She stepped closer to him, subtly blocking his line of sight. "People always say we share a family resemblance."

Cousin.

Standing right there in front of Dominic Valentino, wearing my ring, with my son breathing somewhere inside those stone walls, my only sister looked me dead in the eye and called me her cousin.

I didn't flinch. I smiled. Because twenty-five years of cleaning up Jasmine's messes taught me one thing, survival first, anger later.

"I don't think you two look alike." Dominic held the gate a second longer than necessary. His gaze dragged from Jasmine's forced smile to my face, dark and unreadable, calculating a sum neither of us could see.

Then, he gave a curt nod and walked inside.

The moment the heavy door clicked shut behind us, Jasmine's fingers dug into my wrist. She dragged me into a side parlor, out of the camera's blind spot, and shoved the door shut.

The sweet, relieved sister vanished.

"Don't say a word, Aria," she hissed.

"You're wearing my ring."

Jasmine glanced at the heavy silver band on her left hand. She didn't look guilty; she looked cornered. "Aria, you don't understand..."

"I understand you told the most dangerous man in the city that my son is yours."

Tears welled in her eyes. It was a flawless, terrifyingly quick transition. The same look she used when we were kids to get my last dollar.

"I was terrified! When I found him, his men were practically shooting the traitors. He was covered in blood. I handed him the ring, and he just... assumed. He looked at me like I was his savior."

"So you played the saint."

"I played to stay alive!" Her voice broke, looking like she did something great.

"He took us in. He gave Luca everything..."

"Luca." The name felt like a physical blow.

"That's what Dominic named him." Jasmine stepped closer, her tone softening into something venomous and pleading.

"Aria, we've been married for three weeks. If he finds out I lied now, he won't just throw me out. He'll kill me. He'll take the baby and you'll never see him again."

She let that hang in the air. The ultimate threat disguised as a warning. She knew exactly where to twist the knife.

"What do you want, Jasmine?" I kept my voice dead flat.

"Be his nanny." Relief washed over her features. "Just for a while. You get to be close to him. I get someone I can actually trust in this house. I'll tell Dominic you needed work. That's it."

She reached out, touching my arm. "He's your son, Aria. He needs you."

I stared at her hand. Then at her face. I knew none of this was about what Luca needed. It was about Jasmine keeping her throne.

"If anyone hurts him in this house," I said, my voice dropping to a whisper, "I will burn it down with you inside."

Jasmine blinked, stepping back. She forced a smile. "Follow me."

The nursery was on the second floor. I heard the crying before we even reached the door, a frantic, exhausted wail that made my chest physically ache.

I pushed past Jasmine and went straight to the crib.

He was tiny, red-faced, fists curled tight. Four months old. Dark hair. My son. My hands were shaking as I scooped him up. The second his cheek hit my chest, he startled.

Then, he inhaled, buried his face into the crook of my neck, and grabbed a fistful of my collar. The crying stopped instantly.

Hi, baby, I thought, closing my eyes as a tear slipped down my jaw. I'm so sorry I'm late.

"He's been crying for an hour." My eyes snapped open.

Dominic stood in the doorway. He'd shed his suit jacket. The gun holstered at his ribs was in plain sight. He wasn't looking at Jasmine. He was staring at me.

"He wanted to be held," I said, my voice tighter than I meant it to be.

"Jasmine said to let him cry it out. Said he needed discipline." Dominic's voice was a low rumble.

I didn't look at my sister. I just tightened my hold on Luca.

Dominic took a slow step into the room. His gaze drifted down, just for a fraction of a second, to my left shoulder, which was covered by my collar, where my birthmark was.

Did he remember something about that night a year ago?

His eyes snapped back up to mine. The temperature in the room plummeted.

"What did you say your name was?"

"Aria," I said. "Just Aria."

He nodded, slow and deliberate. "You're on night duty, Aria." He turned and walked out, leaving the air completely entirely out of the room.

Aria's POV

The echo of his footsteps hadn't even faded before Jasmine was moving.

She threw herself out of the nursery and into the hallway, catching up to him before he reached the top of the stairs.

"Dom, wait," she called out. The venom from a moment ago vanished, replaced instantly by a breathless, sugary whine.

I stood in the doorway, Luca resting against my chest, and watched my sister go to his daddy.

Jasmine reached out, wrapping her manicured fingers around his bicep. "I was thinking, since I've been so stressed with the baby... maybe we could go shopping downtown today? Just the two of us?"

Dominic stopped. He didn't look at her face. He looked at her hand on his arm.

The shift was microscopic, but I saw it. He withdrew his arm with a chilling, utter detachment, leaving Jasmine's hands grasping at empty air.

"I have business," he said. The tone wasn't that of a bloodthirsty monster. It was the tone of a man addressing a minor, inconvenient employee.

He reached into his jacket, pulled out a sleek black titanium card, and held it out. "Take the car. Take some guards with you."

He didn't wait for her to take it and just slid it onto the hallway console table and walked down the stairs without a backward glance.

Jasmine stared after him, her jaw tight, before snatching the card. She glanced back and caught me watching. I raised an eyebrow.

If he finds out I lied, he'll kill me. I tightened my hold on Luca.

Dominic Valentino might be a ruthless mob boss to the rest of the world, but to Jasmine? He wasn't some terrifying, abusive tyrant holding her hostage. He was just a deep pocket who barely tolerated her presence.

Another lie. Another manipulation to keep me playing her game.

The estate settled into a suffocating silence around two in the morning.

I was dozing in the armchair next to the crib when the first whimper broke the quiet. By the time I was on my feet, Luca was letting out a sharp, agonizing wail.

I scooped him up, immediately feeling the heat radiating through his soft onesie. A fever. Not dangerously high, but enough to make a four-month-old miserable.

"Shh, I know, I know," I whispered, pressing his flushed cheek to my neck.

I went into the adjoining bathroom, wet a soft washcloth with tepid water, and began pacing the dim nursery.

I wiped the back of his neck, his little wrists, gently bouncing him with a rhythmic sway that my body seemed to remember on a cellular level.

The crying wouldn't stop. He was frustrated, hot, and exhausted.

Without thinking, I closed my eyes and let a melody slip past my lips.

It was an old, quiet lullaby I had hummed to the concrete walls of my cell in Lockwood Correctional. I used to press my hands to my swollen belly in the dark, singing it until the baby stopped kicking and went to sleep.

"Hush now, little one, the storm is passing by..." I sang softly, letting the vibration of my chest soothe him. "Rest your head, the dawn is in the sky..."

It worked like magic. Within minutes, the frantic wailing dissolved into small, sleepy hiccups. Luca's tiny fists uncurled, his breathing evening out against my collarbone as he drifted back to sleep.

"He likes that song."

I gasped, spinning around.

Dominic was leaning against the doorframe, a shadow detached from the darker hallway. He had stripped off his suit jacket and tie, his dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar. In his hand was a glass of warm water.

How long had he been standing there?

He pushed off the frame and walked silently into the room. The sheer size of him made the spacious nursery feel suddenly small. He stopped a foot away and held out the glass.

"Drink," he ordered softly. "You've been pacing for twenty minutes."

I took the glass with my free hand, my heart hammering against my ribs. "Thank you."

He didn't step back. He stood there, watching me take a sip, his dark eyes missing nothing in the dim moonlight.

"Fourteen months in Lockwood Correctional Facility," he said.

It was a statement of fact. My blood ran cold, but I forced my face to remain completely blank. Of course he ran a background check for his son. He was the head of the Valentino family.

"You do your homework, Mr. Valentino," I said, keeping my voice low so as not to wake Luca.

"I don't let strangers sleep fifty feet from my son without knowing exactly what they are capable of," Dominic replied, his gaze locking onto mine. "Aggravated assault. You put a man in the hospital."

I met his stare evenly. I knew exactly what the police report said. "I hit a scumbag who was putting his hands on his girlfriend. He pressed charges. I'd do it again."

I left out Daniel's name. I left out Jasmine. And I prayed to God that the prison records his men pulled were the redacted ones that didn't mention the prison infirmary. Or the birth.

Dominic stared at me. The silence stretched, thick and heavy. He was looking for a crack, a tell, a lie.

Then, he took a half-step closer. The scent of bergamot, expensive scotch, and gun oil wrapped around me. I stopped breathing.

He reached out.

I braced myself, but his hand didn't go to my throat.

His thumb gently brushed a stray curl of hair away from my collarbone. His skin was rough, calloused, and the contact sent an electric shock straight down my spine.

His fingers lingered for a fraction of a second, hovering just millimeters above the fabric of my shirt, right over the spot where my birthmark lay hidden.

His dark eyes dropped to my lips, then slowly drifted back up to hold my gaze.

"You don't hold him like a beginner," Dominic murmured, his voice dropping an octave, vibrating with a dangerous, quiet intensity. "Tell me, Aria... have you ever had a child?"