On the night of the storm, as I gave birth to the Valenti heir, Tanner didn’t even spare me a glance.

He finished a cigar outside the delivery room, then tossed a one-way ticket out of the country and a set of divorce papers onto my bed.

"Renee's background is clean. She's the only one I want as the Godmother of this family."

"Sign it. For giving me a son, this check is more than enough for you to disappear."

"I'm taking the child. A woman like you—hands stained with blood, mind filled with our secrets—is unfit to raise the future Don of this family."

I didn’t say a word, just picked up the gold-plated fountain pen and signed.

Any slower and I would have risked missing the private jet Julian had waiting for me.

Three months later, Renee showed up at my private tattoo studio, The Ink Parlor.

She had specifically requested me—the most expensive and sought-after tattoo artist in the underworld.

Wearing a backless dress, she wanted the Valenti family’s eagle crest tattooed on her back.

It was the mark of the Godmother.

I pushed open the studio door just in time to hear her cooing into her phone.

"Don't worry, Tanner. I'm about to show that bitch who really owns Chicago."

————————

1

I pulled on my black gloves and scanned the appointment sheet.

Renee.

Before Tanner exiled me, her name was a forbidden topic in the family—the one name he could never truly let go of.

He called her his "innocent flower," the only untainted thing in his filthy world.

I once imagined he’d found some kind of saint.

Turns out, she was just a stripper from a high-end club.

I remember the day I gave birth. A thunderstorm knocked out the power to the estate, and I was bleeding out on the table.

The old butler, frantic, called Tanner twelve times.

No answer.

Meanwhile, the underworld tabloids ran a story about him buying out every luxury brand in Milan, just to see Renee smile.

For a Don of Tanner's stature, no one would dare leak a story he didn't approve.

He wasn't hiding her anymore.

He was paving the way for his new whore.

After the doctors pulled me back from the brink, Tanner finally showed up.

He slowly adjusted his cufflinks, his gaze as cold and hard as steel. "Wesley, you're a profound disappointment."

"Did you really have to stoop so low? Having a child just to pass some family test? It's crude."

"I don't love you. The child is an inconvenience, but the family needs an heir."

"Take the money and disappear. Don't make me put a hit on you…"

Before he could finish, his encrypted phone rang.

He answered, his voice instantly softening. "Renee…"

"Tanner, has my birthday surprise arrived?"

"Did that old hag sign the papers yet? I can't wait to move into the master bedroom."

"I heard she bled a lot? Ugh, how disgusting. Make sure you have all the sheets changed. I hate the smell of blood."

Tanner chuckled. "You're so delicate. For you, I'll have the whole house burned to the ground and built anew."

"The gift is on its way. And tonight, I'm going to make you scream my name…"

Tanner hung up without another look at me, and certainly not at the infant being carried away by the nanny.

Good. My heart was already dead.

At least the child was safe, for now. And I still held the keys to the family’s encrypted accounts. That was all that mattered.

The old Consigliere handed me the check, his gaze heavy with a conflict he couldn't voice. "Mrs. Valenti," he said, his tone low, "the Don says this is your severance. You are to leave this city, or disappear for good."

I took the check, lit it on fire in front of him, and dropped the ashes into a tray.

I knew that out there, in the shadows, Julian Rossi—the Valenti family's arch-nemesis—had been waiting for me for ten years.

Renee's sharp, impatient voice shattered my thoughts.

I ran a clinical eye over the skin on her back.

Beneath a thick layer of concealer, her skin was a mess of angry red patches and a tight cluster of needle marks. In several places, the skin had begun to fester and ooze.

She flinched in pain, but her words were pure poison.

"Be gentle, you useless trash! I could have Tanner tear down this shithole with a single phone call, you know that?"

"Those damn thugs played too rough and left me with this rash! Once I'm the Godmother, I'll have them all chopped up and fed to the dogs!"

I picked up the rubbing alcohol, my face a blank mask. "Renee, your back has a severe soft tissue infection and lesions I can't identify. I can't tattoo over this."

The moment she heard my refusal, she slapped my ink tray, sending it clattering across the floor.

"You won't? How dare you! I am the future Mrs. Valenti, you hear me?"

"I'm wearing a backless wedding dress! If you can't cover this mess, I'll make you disappear from Chicago!"

Venom flashed in her eyes. "Are you jealous? Jealous that Tanner loves me? He listens to everything I say. If I tell him to kill someone, he does it!"

If it weren't for Julian's plan, I wouldn't have laid a finger on her filthy skin.

But my cover was a tattoo artist in neutral territory. I couldn't break the rules.

I wasn't in the mood to waste my breath on her. "No one but me can cover up flesh this rotten. Are you sure you want to go through with this?"

At the mention of "rotten flesh," a flicker of panic crossed her face. "What rotten flesh! It's an allergy! Do you know what an allergy is, stupid?"

"Just do the damn tattoo! If you screw up my wedding, I'll have your entire family killed!"

"Standard procedure for a condition like this requires a liability waiver," I said calmly. "Or would you prefer your fiancé sign it?"

My tone was flat as I idly tested the tattoo machine in my hand.

Renee's face twisted in fury. "Shut your mouth! If Tanner hears one word of this, I'll kill you myself!"

I raised an eyebrow.

Idiots who were all talk like her usually didn't survive their first mistake in our world.

I tossed the waiver in front of her. "Sign it. You have a wedding dress to try on…"

My words were cut off by a loud bang.

The studio door burst open.

"Wedding dress? Who gave you permission to speak to my fiancée that way?"

"Wesley, it's only been three months. Have you already forgotten how to talk to your betters?"

Tanner filled the doorway, flanked by four heavily armed bodyguards.

The sheer menace of the man seemed to strain the seams of his black Italian suit, an aura of ruthlessness honed by years at the top.

His gaze swept past me to Renee, and his face instantly darkened.

She was disheveled, her back a swollen, angry red.

A murderous look crossed Tanner's face. "Wesley, what the hell did you do to her?"

"She was fine when she left the estate! You dare torture my woman?!"

Renee seized her moment, reaching out a trembling hand. "Tanner! Save me! She's trying to kill me!"

Her voice was a pathetic whimper. "She used a poisoned needle on me! She said… she said with this needle, I'd rot from the inside out! I begged her to stop, but she just laughed…"

She broke off, coughing violently, her nails digging into the fabric of his sleeve.

"Tanner, she's jealous! Jealous I can give you a son, jealous that I'm going to be the Godmother!"

I peeled off my pus-stained gloves, tossed them in the bin, and met Tanner's gaze. "Don Valenti, if that's sepsis, your fiancée has about half an hour before she needs a crematorium."

Before Tanner could process that, Renee shrieked, "She's lying! Tanner, she's lying!"

"She knows you threw her out for me! She's just trying to get revenge with these dirty tricks."

Renee pointed a shaky finger at the marks on her skin. "Look, she did this! Just now! She even threatened to send pictures of me to your rivals, telling them you were marrying a slut!"

My gaze drifted to Renee.

Those needle marks and raw patches were the tell-tale signs of long-term drug abuse and a life lived on her back.