The day the Thorne family announced our engagement, the New York underworld let out a collective sigh of relief.

Because I was set to marry Daemon, the most straitlaced Don in the city, which meant I could no longer be the wild rose who tore up the racetrack.

But I resisted with every fiber of my being, finding creative ways to test his limits.

During his ten-million-dollar card game with a rival family's Capo, my hand "slipped" and sent a bottle of 1945 Romanee-Conti spilling across the ancient map that outlined their territories, sabotaging the entire negotiation.

Daemon, however, just slowly and deliberately wiped the wine from the back of his hand. He didn't even frown as he cleaned up my mess.

Then I "accidentally" let my spirited Arabian stallion loose in his immaculately manicured courtyard. The beast went wild, trampling his prize-winning rose garden into mud.

But he arrived with his private doctor in tow, crouching before me as his long fingers gently traced the scratch on my arm.

"Did the beast hurt you?"

Just that one question, and my heart melted completely.

"Daemon, I can marry you. But before that, has there ever been another woman who owned your heart?"

"I don't share my man. Not in any way."

He pointed to his heart, his gaze unwavering as he met my eyes. "Before you, this was empty."

After we married, the word on the street in New York's circles of power was this:

If you angered Don Thorne, his Donna might plead your case. But if you angered the Donna, you were on your own.

Even I began to believe that Daemon, that mountain of ice, would eventually melt for me.

Until the day I went to find him, clutching a positive pregnancy test, bursting with joy.

Only to hear the family's Consigliere ask him, from the top-floor study, what the best lie he'd ever told was.

Daemon chuckled and said casually,

"She asked me if anyone had my heart before her."

"I told her no."

The day the Thorne family announced our engagement, the New York underworld let out a collective sigh of relief.

Because I was set to marry Daemon, the most straitlaced Don in the city, which meant I could no longer be the wild rose who tore up the racetrack.

But I resisted with every fiber of my being, finding creative ways to test his limits.

During his ten-million-dollar card game with a rival family's Capo, my hand "slipped" and sent a bottle of 1945 Romanee-Conti spilling across the ancient map that outlined their territories, sabotaging the entire negotiation.

Daemon, however, just slowly and deliberately wiped the wine from the back of his hand. He didn't even frown as he cleaned up my mess.

Then I "accidentally" let my spirited Arabian stallion loose in his immaculately manicured courtyard. The beast went wild, trampling his prize-winning rose garden into mud.

But he arrived with his private doctor in tow, crouching before me as his long fingers gently traced the scratch on my arm.

"Did the beast hurt you?"

Just that one question, and my heart melted completely.

"Daemon, I can marry you. But before that, has there ever been another woman who owned your heart?"

"I don't share my man. Not in any way."

He pointed to his heart, his gaze unwavering as he met my eyes. "Before you, this was empty."

After we married, the word on the street in New York's circles of power was this:

If you angered Don Thorne, his Donna might plead your case. But if you angered the Donna, you were on your own.

Even I began to believe that Daemon, that mountain of ice, would eventually melt for me.

Until the day I went to find him, clutching a positive pregnancy test, bursting with joy.

Only to hear the family's Consigliere ask him, from the top-floor study, what the best lie he'd ever told was.

Daemon chuckled and said casually,

"She asked me if anyone had my heart before her."

"I told her no."

...

I froze outside the door, an arctic chill piercing me to the bone, my blood running cold.

He had a great love he could never forget?

Daemon, the man who cherished me, who called me his one and only... had someone else hidden in his heart?

Inside, the regret in the Consigliere's voice was a sharp slap across my face.

"Daemon, it's been so many years. You still can't forget Gianna."

Gianna...

The name hit me like a physical blow.

The Thorne family's adopted daughter, Daemon's foster sister.

A low chuckle came from the study as someone else spoke.

"But it was a brilliant move, marrying that maniac Scarlett. Now the media, the FBI, and all the wolves circling the Thorne family... all eyes are on her."

"Scarlett is so high-profile, she makes the perfect target."

So that was it. A chill shot up my spine, freezing the blood in my veins.

So all his supposed affection was just a ploy to make me a bigger, brighter target, to take the bullets meant for the woman he truly loved.

"But Daemon, a woman as wild as Scarlett... especially in bed. Can you really hold back and not feel a thing?"

I bit down hard on my lower lip, until the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth.

In that wretched moment, I desperately wanted to hear a different answer.

Even just a second of hesitation.

But in the next instant, Daemon's cold, emotionless voice replied, "Who could ever love a beast that can't be tamed?"

The pregnancy test report in my hand crumpled into a ball. A sharp tearing sound echoed in the silent hallway.

The scraps of paper fluttered down, the ashes of my shattered marriage.

In the past, no matter how much trouble I caused, he would always clean up my messes without a word of reproach, never raising his voice to me.

I thought I was his exception. Now I knew it was only because he didn't care.

My legs trembled and threatened to give out. A crushing weight settled on my chest, squeezing the air from my lungs.

All that indulgence was a calculated plot. I was just a pawn used to draw enemy fire.

Those foolish moments when my heart had fluttered for him now made me feel like a complete and utter fool.

Just as I was about to lose control and storm in to confront him, Daemon's satellite phone rang.

"Don, Miss Gianna was harassed by some rival thugs on her way back from church. She's shaken up, crying. Can you come see her?"

Daemon shot to his feet, the force of his movement knocking his chair to the floor with a loud crash.

He snatched his black trench coat from the back of the chair, not even taking the time to fully conceal the Beretta at his waist.

I instinctively ducked around the corner, then felt ridiculous for doing so.

His mind was on Gianna; he wouldn't have noticed anything else.

His brow was deeply furrowed, his eyes filled with an unconcealable panic, as if his world would collapse if he were a second too late.

I watched his back disappear down the hall, and my heart died completely.

When I had turned his estate into a disaster zone with a rampaging stallion, he had come to get me looking as cool and composed as ever, not a single strand of his tie out of place.

The difference between being loved and being used was painfully obvious.

I took a deep breath, swallowing the lump in my throat, and pulled out my phone to dial the number I had sworn I would never call again for help.

"Dad, get the divorce papers drawn up."

"Tell the family lawyer I'm terminating the marriage alliance with the Thorne family."

"Now. Right now. Immediately."

After hanging up, I stood by the floor-to-ceiling window and watched the scene below.

A black, armored car drifted around the street corner.

The shriek of its tires on the pavement was piercing even through the double-paned glass.

Even I, a professional racer, couldn't match that kind of speed. It was clear how much a single tear from Gianna meant to him.

I let out a bitter laugh, too drained to even cry.

I met up with a few girlfriends for shopping, manicures, and finally, a trip to Manhattan's most exclusive underground jazz club.

Dim lights, a sultry saxophone, and a glass of potent bourbon in my hand.

My friend fidgeted beside me, nervously glancing toward the door.

"Scarlett, are you insane? The Don explicitly forbade you from coming here. If the Thorne family finds out..."

I tilted my head back and downed the amber liquid in one go.

The burn of it seared a path down my throat and into my stomach, but it couldn't warm a heart that was already frozen solid.

"It doesn't matter." I slammed the empty glass down on the marble tabletop. "I'm ending things with him."

The words had barely left my lips when the club's mellow jazz music screeched to a halt.

Black-suited Soldati moved in, quickly and systematically clearing the room. Even my friends were politely but firmly escorted out.

In an instant, the vast space felt unnervingly empty.

Heels clicked on the floor, announcing an arrival. The crowd of men parted, and a woman in a black velvet gown glided toward me.

Madre Elena.

Daemon's mother, the most traditional guardian of the Thorne family.

Her gaze was as sharp as a hawk's, pinning me in place.

"Scarlett Thorne." She spoke my full name, her tone dripping with disgust.

"You disgrace the Thorne name!"

"As the Donna, instead of considering how to serve this family, you're here, dragging our name through the mud with these degenerates."

She stopped in front of me, looking down her nose at me.

"And to think you are a princess of the Vaughn family. So spoiled and willful. You're not fit to touch a single strand of Gianna's hair."

A cold laugh echoed in my mind. So this was the real reason Daemon married me.

To make me the perfect prop to highlight Gianna's purity and nobility.

I, Scarlett Vaughn, was the most dazzling star on New York's racetracks, the wild mare countless men wanted to tame.

But in the eyes of Daemon and his mother, I was nothing more than a disposable shield.

The alcohol surged through me, and I was done being patient.

I lifted my head to meet her gaze and said, word by word, "Get Daemon down here."

Elena's face went pale with rage, the crucifix on her chest rising and falling violently.

"Incorrigible! I see you're drunk and need to be taught a lesson!"

She waved a hand at the bodyguards behind her. "Take her to the family chapel."

"Make her kneel before the Virgin Mary and repent until she understands what it means to be a Thorne!"

"And don't forget to sober her up."

The next second, bodyguards seized me without another word.

I struggled, but they dragged me out and threw me into the fountain in the club's back courtyard.

On an early spring night, the water was bone-chillingly cold.

I choked, swallowing mouthfuls of fountain water as I desperately clawed my way out.

But as soon as I gripped the edge of the fountain, I was pushed back under.

The freezing water soaked through my evening gown, completely ruining my makeup.

When they finally dragged me out of the pool, I was a drenched, shivering, and pathetic mess.

Then they roughly shoved me into a black car and drove straight to the family chapel.

I was forced to kneel on the hard stone floor, my wet clothes clinging to my skin, a searing pain shooting through my knees.

I screamed myself hoarse, "You have no right to do this to me! I want to see Daemon!"

Seeing this, Madre Elena laughed with fury and picked up her phone to make a call.

Two seconds later, a familiar voice boomed from the speakerphone, echoing in the empty chapel.

"What trouble are you causing now? Stop upsetting my mother."

"Do what she tells you. Those are the rules of the Thorne family."

This was the man I had loved for two years. And in the depths of despair, a different kind of courage is born: the courage of having nothing left to lose.

I screamed into the phone with all my might, "Daemon! You listen to me..."

"I'm preg—"

My voice trembled.

"It doesn't matter," he cut me off. "Scarlett, you need to remember that you are a Thorne. You must obey the rules here."

"You are my wife, the Donna. For my sake, you need to learn."

My mind went blank.

The phone slipped from my palm and clattered onto the cold marble floor.

So all my pain meant less to him than the Thorne family rules and Gianna.

It meant less than a single complaint from his mother.

The violent struggle had exhausted me. The chapel's damp coldness seeped into my bones.

Worse, the dragging pain in my lower abdomen grew more intense, like a rusty knife was twisting inside me.

Darkness swallowed me.

When I woke up, I was lying in the lavish but cold master bed of the Thorne estate.

The door was ajar, and Gianna's tearful voice drifted in from the hallway.

"Daemon, it's all my fault. If I hadn't called you away yesterday, Scarlett wouldn't have been punished by your mother."

Then, Daemon's voice followed.

It was a tone I had never heard from him before, one so gentle it seemed to drip with honey.

"Don't blame yourself, Gianna. This has nothing to do with you."

"Scarlett is untamable. This was just a small lesson for her. She was in the wrong. As the family's Donna, she shouldn't have gone to a place like that."

The dull ache in my abdomen was still there, and a chill ran through me.

I had almost lost our child, and to him, it was just a "small lesson."

Rage burned away my reason. I forced my weak body up and yanked the door open.

"If I'm so untamable, Don Thorne, why don't you just sign the divorce papers now?"

In the hallway, Daemon was gently handing a handkerchief to Gianna.

He froze at my words.

Then, he slowly turned and advanced toward me, step by step.

I instinctively tried to back away, but he seized the nape of my neck.

His palm was still warm and dry, his thumb stroking my cheek in a way that used to feel intimate.

But his eyes were a bottomless, icy chasm.

"Divorce?"

He let out a low laugh. "Principessa, that word doesn't exist in my vocabulary."

He leaned in, his lips almost brushing my ear.

"It seems the cold wind in the chapel didn't clear your head. Are you going to keep making a scene?"

"Do you have any idea the trouble I went through to calm my mother down for you? Instead of being grateful, you test my limits with this foolishness?"

"Be a good girl."

He patted my cheek as if calming a pet.

"Don't waste your defiance testing my patience. The Thorne family name can't withstand you dragging it through the mud again and again."

I couldn't help but sneer. He was talking to me about reputation?

And him? Cozying up to his widowed sister-in-law in the hallway? Was that upholding the Thorne family name?

Seeing the scorn on my face, Daemon's eyes darkened, and he was about to speak.

Gianna quickly stepped forward and grabbed his arm.

"Daemon, don't be hard on Scarlett. She just woke up, she's still weak."

"Besides, she has a fiery temper. We should be more patient with her."

"I'll talk to her."

Daemon let her persuade him and went downstairs, his face grim.

She turned and took a wooden case from a nearby servant. Inside was an exquisitely crafted violin.

"Scarlett, I know you were wronged in the chapel. To cheer you up, I had a special gift prepared for you."

She came to me, her smile deceptively innocent. "I know you play the violin. So I took the liberty of having that old champion horse in your stables... put down."

"Its tail hair is of excellent quality, perfect for this bow."

"It couldn't run anymore anyway. Keeping it at the Thorne estate was just a waste of food, right?"

Meeting Gianna's innocent gaze, my mind went blank with a roar.

That was the first racehorse my late grandfather had ever given me. It was the start of my racing career, my spiritual anchor.

When I married into this family, my only condition was that I could bring him with me.

Daemon had promised he would ensure the horse was well cared for in its old age.

The humiliation I had suppressed for the past two days erupted. I stared at her, my eyes burning. "Who gave you permission to touch him!"

The innocent look on Gianna's face didn't waver, and was even tinged with confusion.

"Scarlett, what are you doing? It was just an old horse."

"The Thorne family has strict rules. We can't keep a retired racehorse at the estate, it's undignified. I was doing it for your own good, to stop Madre Elena from giving you a hard time again."

The Thorne family rules! The rules again!

They nearly killed my child, left me to freeze in a chapel, and now they had butchered the only living link to my past!

I shot to my feet and, with a guttural scream, slammed the violin case at Gianna's feet.

The case and the priceless antique violin shattered, sending splinters of wood flying everywhere.

Gianna stumbled back in terror, her high heel twisted, and she lost her balance.

"Ah!"

She took a calculated step back, deliberately losing her footing.

She fell backward, and the back of her head hit the sharp marble corner of the fireplace.

Bright red blood immediately beaded along her hairline before trickling down to stain the white carpet.

Hearing the commotion, Daemon rushed back. When he saw Gianna on the floor, the blood beneath her, and me standing on the stairs, his eyes turned crimson with pure rage.

"Scarlett! Are you insane!"

He shoved me aside. "She's my sister, how dare you lay a hand on her!"

I clutched my stomach, a hysterical laugh bubbling up from my throat. "She killed my horse! She had him butchered for a goddamn violin bow! You think I shouldn't have hit her?"

"So what if she did? I approved it."

"I was the one who told her to get rid of that old horse. The Thorne estate has no need for useless things. Besides, you needed a violin, didn't you? She was doing it for you!"

I felt as if I'd been struck by lightning. My last line of defense crumbled.

When I first married him, I was afraid the Thorne family's strict rules would be a problem and hesitated to bring my horse. It was Daemon who promised me he would protect him.

Was it the Thorne family that couldn't tolerate him, or was it me they couldn't tolerate?

I opened my mouth, wanting to say we should get a divorce, wanting to say I hated him.

But on the floor, Gianna spoke weakly.

"Daemon, don't blame Scarlett, it was my fault... but it really hurts..."

Before she could finish, her eyes rolled back and she passed out at the perfect moment.

Daemon's pupils contracted. He immediately knelt, scooped her into his arms, and rushed for the door, not even sparing me a single glance.

At the family's private hospital, the light above the emergency room was on.

Daemon leaned against the pale corridor wall, his usually calm face was a mask of raw panic, his eyes bloodshot.

I stood a short distance away, a heavy weight in my chest making it hard to breathe.

The doctor came out, his expression grave.

"Don, Mrs. Gianna suffered a head injury and has lost a lot of blood. She needs an immediate transfusion."

"But she has a rare Rh-negative blood type. The blood bank is empty, and getting a supply from another hospital will take too long. I'm afraid she won't make it..."

Daemon was silent for a moment. Then he slowly turned his head, and his eyes locked onto me.

"So does Scarlett. Use hers."