After Isabella loses the three children she carried for the mafia don Matteo, she finally tears herself away from his lies. But when Matteo discovers the truth behind the deaths, his guilt collides with the woman he once used as a pawn, and every secret he buried comes back to destroy the power he thought he controlled.

"Enough. All of you, shut your mouths."

"Sonny. Book Swan Castle. Everything for the wedding, only the best. You hear me?"

Silence on the other end. Then Vivian's voice, half a scream.

"Angelo, have you lost your mind?"

"You only chased her to spite me. How far are you gonna take this? You're actually marrying her?"

Angelo bent down, picked the ring out of the trash, and looked at me, steady.

"Of course I'm marrying her. You saw I had the ring ready, didn't you?"

"A bet's a bet. The funding for your new movie will hit your account tomorrow."

He hung up, ruffled my hair, blew the dust off the ring, and slid it onto my finger.

"Hey. What are you crying for? You're thrilled and you know it."

Before I could answer, he stepped back to admire the ring, satisfied.

"When you were looking at that magazine, your eyes were glued to this ring. Couldn't look away."

"So I bought it for you."

There was a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. He had no idea I'd only stared at the ring so he could pay off his debt faster.

The cold of the diamond crept up my finger and into my chest. I shivered.

But he didn't need my help. Did he?

The voice on the phone had just called him Don.

The Angelo I knew was a broke kid drowning in mob debt.

What a joke.

"Three whole years," My voice came out cold. "A Don playing dirt-poor with me. Was it fun?"

He smiled and reached for my hand like nothing had happened.

"Hey. Being the Don of the Ferro Family, it's not that big a deal."

But there was pride at the corner of his mouth.

I stepped back, out of reach.

"So the bet with Vivian — that's why you put on this act for three years?"

"You've got the talent. Why not head to Hollywood with her?"

Finally, the careless mask slipped. His brow tightened.

"Don't get the wrong idea. The bet was just whether you'd believe this ring came from a sweepstakes."

He pressed his lips together. "She didn't mean any harm. She just thought it was funny. Don't take it to heart."

He skipped right over Vivian's line about him only going after me to spite her. He played dumb.

I stared at his face. I wanted to be stubborn, but the tears wouldn't stop.

Three years. More than a thousand days.

To help Angelo pay off the million he supposedly owed for his mother's illness, I'd counted every cent.

My mother was sick too. I knew what it felt like to love someone and be helpless.

Hard didn't matter. As long as I had him, I'd take it.

Now I knew. Everything I'd given was just seasoning for him and Vivian's little game.

The talent agency had assigned me to Vivian as her assistant, and she'd hated me from day one.

All because some trashy tabloid ran a photo of me holding her umbrella, with a snide caption saying Vivian needed to take better care of herself, that even her assistant was prettier.

After that, she found a new reason to bully me every week.

And now her friends got to drag me around like a toy?

When Angelo played broke and split a pizza with me, how did he keep from laughing?

When he held an umbrella over me on rainy nights to save cab fare, was he counting down the minutes till he could leave?

He was still talking. "Indoors or outdoors for the wedding?"

Calm voice. Like we hadn't just fought.

I worked the ring off my finger and pressed it back into his palm. "Angelo, let's call it off."

His brow furrowed. "Don't be difficult."

There was an edge in it. The edge of someone who isn't told no.

I let out a cold laugh and tried to pull away. He caught my wrist.

He gripped my chin, forced my head up.

"I said. Don't. Be difficult."

He looked down at me. "I'm not used to people refusing my orders."

I looked into those cold eyes and finally understood. He was not the boy who shared a Starbucks cup with me.

He was the Don of the Ferro Family.

All of it was a lie.

The tears blurred his face.

Angelo sighed and wiped them away. Tender, like before.

For a second, he was the old Angelo.

But I couldn't believe it anymore.

Right on cue, his phone rang.

A frantic voice spilled out. "Boss, Vivian's threatening to cut her wrists. Get over here, now."

Angelo glanced at me, almost apologetic, and cleared his throat.

"On my way. Tell her to sit tight."

I watched his eyes in silence. The corner of my mouth pulled into something that wasn't a smile.

His face was full of guilt. But his hand let go of mine all the same.

Outside, the black Rolls-Royce idled. He slid into the back seat and was gone, swallowed by a world I'd never been part of.

I stood frozen at the window, watching the Rolls disappear around the corner.

Night fell. The streetlights came on one by one.

Round, like the burn scars on my arm. The ones Vivian had given me with her cigarette.

She was cruel. Truly cruel.

One night she'd made me take swimsuit photos of her, didn't like the results, and shoved my head underwater in the pool.

"Isa, are you blind? Do you have any taste? Do I really look this fat in your shots? Maybe a swim'll clean out your eyes."

I walked home that night in soaking clothes, in the dead cold of the early morning.

The second Angelo saw me, he pulled me into his arms. "Just quit. I'll cover us, okay?"

I'd shaken my head. "The agency pays me three times what other assistants make. I can take it."

When I'd signed with the agency, they'd wanted to make me an actress.

But they kept pushing me toward dirty side jobs. I refused. Assistant work was all they'd let me do.

The pay was good. Much better than the others.

Getting bullied by Vivian beat the alternative.

For my mother. For me and Angelo's future. I'd put up with it.

Angelo had opened his mouth that night, but said nothing. Just held me tighter.

He'd pressed his face into my back and whispered, over and over: "I'm sorry, Isabella. I'm sorry."

After that, Vivian eased up on the physical stuff.

But her tongue got meaner.

Now I understood. Angelo must've said something to her.

Out of guilt? Or was it a new round of the game?

I wanted out.

I started packing. There wasn't much of me in this apartment.

The thrift-store bookshelf was lined with his books, sorted by spine color.

We'd painted the walls together, in the color he'd picked.

We'd both ended up with white paint on our faces, laughing till our stomachs hurt.

The tomato plants he'd put on the balcony were yellowing.

The home we'd built piece by piece.

It was just a stage. For his performance.

I dropped onto the bed, wrung out.

With the first light of morning came the click of a key in the lock.

Angelo walked in.

He'd changed.

Armani suit, silver cufflinks catching the light.

The luxury that had always been on the other side of glass was suddenly standing in my doorway.

He took in my dead-eyed stare and reached over to stroke my hair.

"Isabella, don't be angry. I'm going to explain everything."

"Three years ago, I went after Vivian. She turned me down."

"For her image, she demanded I give up being the Don. I couldn't do that."

"She got vicious. Said if I weren't a Don, no woman would ever love me."

"I wanted to prove her wrong. To get back at her. So I..."

He trailed off, like the rest hurt to say.

I clenched my teeth. My voice came out poisonous. "So the noble Don Angelo decided to throw his love at some peasant girl, Isabella."

He folded his hands under his chin and looked straight at me. "Not charity. You conquered me."

"In front of you," he gave a small smile, "I was still that broke kid. Crazy about you."

That earnest face almost made me laugh. Play a role long enough and you really do forget who you are.

His phone screen lit up on the couch.

A message from Vivian.

Vivian: [Angelo, stop sulking. Fine, this time I'll be your girlfriend. No conditions.]

He cleared his throat, embarrassed, and typed back: [You think I'd believe anything you say?]

I grabbed the phone. I wanted them to stop playing this game in front of me.

What I saw was a group chat. Vivian was the admin.

I tapped in. The group had been created three years ago.

Angelo tried to stop me. I lifted my eyes and stared him down. His hand froze.

"Look. Look, and you'll know. I really do love you."

My hands trembled as I scrolled to the top.

The first message. Vivian:

Vivian: [Angelo, if you want to spite me, can you at least pick a better girl?]

Vivian: [Isabella? Really? You that desperate?]

Angelo: [I'm going for the one closest to you. So you have to watch.]

The others piled on: [Damn, this is better than Vivian's new movie.]

Vivian: [Don't think I'm jealous. Isabella's a lapdog. Not worth my time.]

Angelo: [We'll see.]

Every time he and I got closer, the chat exploded:

Someone: [Vivian, don't underestimate Angelo's game. I bet she's in his bed within a month.]

Someone else: [Classic Don move. The assistant's even putting her own money toward his debt.]

Every line burned like acid.

I looked up at Angelo, eyes wet, trembling, no words coming out.

He sighed and looked away. "They're guys who live with guns. They talk like animals."

I wiped my eyes hard and kept reading.

Further down, Angelo's messages got fewer.

When the mockery got bad, he'd type: [Shut up.]

Or: [She's not your business.]

When someone joked the Don had actually fallen for her, he just went silent.

He let them mock me. For three years.

Was that what he called love? Not insulting me himself?

I was a prop. A trophy for his ego.

My stomach turned. My hand shook against the edge of the phone.

Angelo grabbed it and held my hand tight. "You know how I feel. That's enough."

He pulled me into his chest, his breath hot against my ear.

"It started as spite. But I meant it after. I love you, Isabella."

I shoved him off and stood up.

Every word out of my mouth felt like glass. "Angelo, my life isn't your toy."

"I don't love you anymore. Congrats. You finally got Vivian."

I walked straight out the door.

Two men in black suits blocked the hallway.

"Move."

A second later, Angelo's voice behind me.

"Isa. Calm down. Please."

I spun around. His eyes were full of something that looked like love.

"I told you. I stopped caring about Vivian a long time ago. I only care about you."

My phone chimed.

A video from Vivian.

I tapped it.

She and Angelo were lying on a bed. She was curled into his chest, white gauze around her wrist, blood seeping through.

He was holding her tight, stroking her back, slow.

"I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. Don't do anything stupid."

Ten seconds.

When it ended, my eyes felt scraped dry.

Angelo's voice: "Isa, let me explain —"

"Don't bother." I waved the phone at him. "I saw enough. You don't owe me an explanation."

His face changed. He grabbed my wrist.

"She was threatening to slit her wrists last night. What was I supposed to do? Let her die?"

His jaw tightened. "Can you calm down? Can you be a goddamn adult about this?"

I met his eyes and pried at his fingers.

"Let go. I'm quitting. Right now."

"And both of you. Stay the hell out of my life."

He didn't let go. The grip on my wrist ached.

"Isa... I need you. You can't leave."

"Sure, Vivian was hard on you. But she tipped you well, didn't she? And she stopped going after you eventually."

"For three years, I gave you everything. Without me, you can't make it out there."

I almost laughed.

So everything I'd put up with had a price tag.

Those tips. Those hush-money tips. Was that Vivian buying off her own guilt?

The two of them already had everything. And they chose to sit at the top of the hill and watch me crawl up.

My chest hurt again. Sharp.

This time for me.

I didn't want to argue anymore. Couldn't.

I looked him in the eye. Quiet. "Let go. Or I'm calling the cops."

He looked down at me. "What about your mother? You leaving her too?"

I went still. After a moment: "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what it sounds like."

His voice went cold. "Your mother's a lot worse than you know. Your paycheck doesn't cover her meds anymore."

"For the past three years, I've covered the difference. Clear enough now?"

I couldn't move.

He reached up, tucked a stray hair behind my ear, and snapped the fingers of his other hand.

The black Rolls-Royce slid up without a sound.

He got in and patted the seat beside him. "Don't be silly, baby. Time I showed you your real home."

My mother's medical bills.

I swallowed every shred of pride and got in the car.

The car turned into a private estate.

Angelo led me to a bedroom door.

He opened it, smiling. "After the wedding, this is where you'll live with me. You like the way it's done?"

A voice cut in, sharp.

"You? Living here? Don't make me laugh."

I turned. Vivian was standing behind me.

Red silk slip, the kind that left half her chest bare.

Angelo's brow knitted. He stepped forward. "How'd you get in?"

She dangled a key. "You gave me the code. Forgotten already?"

He didn't answer.

She looked me up and down and laughed. "Look at yourself. You're a walking cartoon."

"Hope the reporters don't write that you couldn't even compete with a cartoon," I said.

"You bitch."

She swung at my face.

I flinched.

The slap never landed.

Angelo caught her wrist.

He dragged her out of the room. Their voices leaked back through the wall.

"Angelo, wake up. You think she doesn't know who you are?"

"You only went for her to piss me off. You're really gonna take this all the way and marry her? It's me you love."

"Enough. It's Isa I love."

"Are you stupid? She's a gold-digging slut."

I listened. Felt myself falling, with nothing under my feet.

Then a gunshot.

From the hallway. One round.