"If it weren't for the Moretti name backing her, I wouldn't touch this shrew with a ten-foot pole. The fact that I'm willing to give her a child is already the greatest mercy she could hope for."

"If she doesn't know what's good for her, she can be the laughingstock of every Family in the city. A woman whose alliance has been called off is worth less than a coat-check girl at some strip joint. Who would ever want her?"

I watched this man coldly. The man I'd chosen when I was ten years old.

Fourteen years together. I had given him nearly everything I had to give.

Two years ago, old Don Falcone passed away, and the unremarkable Damian took over the Falcone criminal empire. In just three months, he'd managed to offend more than half their backers and silent partners. Not only did he botch the syndicate's flagship racket, he went against the entire circle of capos and poured cash into over a dozen ventures that were guaranteed to bleed dry. In six short months, the Falcone family, a dynasty built over nearly a century of blood and territory, saw its cash flow collapse under billions of dollars in debt.

The family liquidated every front, every holding, every piece of collateral they owned. It still wasn't enough.

With a hundred years of legacy on the verge of total ruin, I was the one who begged my father to save the Falcones from being bled out entirely.

Back then, Damian had knelt before my father, sobbing, swearing he would never betray me in this lifetime. Between him and me, he said, nothing but death would ever part us.

It was the Moretti family's vast network of resources, the tribute lines, the shipping routes, the political contacts threaded through every industry, that allowed Damian to rebuild the Falcone empire in just two years.

And now, before the Falcones had even found solid footing among the city's ruling families, he couldn't wait to force me into being the other woman.

The guests looked at him as though they were watching a fool perform.

Everyone knew that while the Falcone operations still bore the Falcone name on paper, aside from Damian's figurehead title as Don, the entire organization had long since become Moretti property through and through.

A man who depended on his fiancée just to maintain his lavish lifestyle. Where did he find the nerve to provoke the very person bankrolling his existence?

But Damian was completely oblivious. He was convinced I still needed him the way I once had.

When I said nothing, his arm tightened around Adriana's waist.

"Bianca, if you get on your knees right now and bow to Adriana three times, I might be generous enough to forgive your little tantrum."

"Otherwise, you won't even get the chance to bear my children, let alone set foot in the Falcone compound!"

I looked at that arrogant, repulsive face of his, and I couldn't help but laugh.

This kind of idiot? Whoever wanted him could have him.

A blessed woman doesn't walk through a cursed man's door.

My father let out a cold scoff. "My daughter, the pride of the Moretti family, and you think you're worthy of passing judgment on her?"

"This alliance is off."

"When Bianca decides she wants to marry someday, every eligible young man from every Family in this city will be lining up at our door. And if she never wants to marry at all, I'll gladly take care of her for the rest of her life."

With that, he clapped three times and gave a sharp order to the soldiers standing along the walls. "Bring every last piece of my daughter's dowry back. All of it."

"Two hundred cases of cash. Silent stakes in twenty front operations. Ten armored cars. Thirty properties across eight countries. And the thirty billion dollars wired into the Falcone accounts. Recover every cent. Not a single dollar stays behind."

The staggering scale of my dowry drew a collective gasp from the room. Chairs shifted. Someone set down a glass too hard.

"The Falcones are finished. Without the Morettis, they're not even worth the name on the gate!"

"Throwing away a century-old bloodline for some retainer's daughter. Absolutely moronic!"

Adriana let out a shrill scream. "No! That dowry belongs to me!"

My mother's hand cracked across her face. "The Moretti family has one daughter, and her name is Bianca. You think you're entitled to even dream about her dowry? You want a dowry? Go ask your retainer mother for one."

Moretti soldiers filed in, ready to haul everything away.

"Hold on!"

Damian stood up and planted himself in front of them. That smile came a fraction too early, before anyone else in the room had sided with him.

"Don Moretti, have you forgotten the pact both families signed at the engagement?"

"The only way you're entitled to reclaim the dowry is if I wronged a Moretti daughter. Otherwise, every last cent belongs to the Falcone family, and on top of that, the Morettis will have to surrender all their stakes in Moretti holdings."

Damian held up the pact, his voice ringing through the room. "Adriana is recorded in the Moretti bloodline ledger. That makes her a Moretti daughter, plain and simple. Everyone here is a witness. The Falcones honored our commitment. It's the Morettis who broke their word."

His argument was airtight. My father clutched his chest, gasping for air as fury overwhelmed him. The heavy signet ring on his right hand had gone completely still.

My mother's eyes were bloodshot. She wanted to fight for me, to demand justice, but she couldn't find a single word to counter him.

Adriana draped herself against Damian's chest, swaying her hips, her smile dripping with triumph. Her fingers drifted to the base of her throat, pressing there as if steadying herself before the performance.

"Don't take it personally, sis. So what if Mom and Dad don't claim me? What matters is who sits in the seat of the Falcone matriarch."

Her gaze slid down to me. "Tell you what. If you're willing to get on your knees right now, bark like a dog, and crawl between my legs, and if you manage to amuse me, I might honor the years the Morettis spent raising me. I'll put in a good word and get dear old Don Moretti a job as a gatehouse guard."

She inspected her nails. "As for your dowry? Consider it a tribute to the rightful Mrs. Falcone. Every penny goes into my account."

The Falcone men shoved me aside, hard. The crates of dowry were already being hauled through the doors.

My mother rushed forward to stop them, but the men, emboldened by their masters, pushed her to the ground.

Adriana raised an eyebrow. "Oh, Mom. This is Falcone family business. You insisted on sticking your nose in. These crates don't have eyes, you know. If you end up hurt or crippled, you'll only have yourself to blame."

I helped my mother to her feet and turned a cold stare on the two of them.

Damian curled his lip, wearing the expression of a man tossing scraps to a beggar. "Without that dowry, you can't even buy yourself a husband. But I'll tell you what. For old times' sake, since you used to follow me around like a lovesick puppy, come work as a maid for the Falcones for five years. I might consider giving you a son to secure your future."

I didn't move.

Damian seized my shoulder, wrenching me forward, then drove his foot into the back of my knee. My legs buckled, and I hit the floor. The marble was cold through the silk of my dress. The room went silent. Not the polite silence of a crowd watching a scene, but the held-breath silence of people who understood that a line was about to be crossed in front of witnesses.

He was about to force my head down into a bow when the sealed double doors of the suite burst open with a deafening crash.

"Stop! Federal agents!"