I masterminded a half-billion-dollar art auction to wash money for Miles’s family.

But at the celebration party, Miles gave all the credit to Rebecca. His childhood friend. The daughter of the family’s consigliere.

I stormed into his study.

“Miles, head curator was Rebecca? Are you sure about that?”

He looked up from a cloud of smoke, pulling me into his arms. His voice was a low, soothing rumble. “Valerie, I know you want to prove yourself, but this was all Rebecca. Especially the Caravaggio. The real one, worth three hundred million. She’s the one who pulled it off.”

His lips brushed my forehead, his breath hot. “I don’t love you because you can fix some old paintings. You’re my queen, always. My girl. You don’t have to worry about her.”

I almost laughed. The anger was choking me.

“She can’t tell the difference between oil and acrylic. How the hell would she know a real from a fake?”

“Enough!” Miles cut me off, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I know what Rebecca can do. Don’t make a scene just because you’re jealous.”

His hands tightened, trapping me in his smoky embrace. “Don’t disappoint me, Valerie.”

But he already had.

When I’d had enough of his favoritism and his blindness, I walked.

And that's when he went crazy. Scoured the earth looking for me. Begging me to come back, saying he was blind, that he’d been wrong about everything.

The door to the private room slammed shut behind me.

Miles's words echoed in my ears: Don't make a scene just because you're jealous.

Jealous? A scene?

I took a deep breath and walked out into the main hall, my heels clicking on the floor.

Everyone was raising a glass. Celebrating the half-billion-dollar auction. My victory.

“Look at her face. Like the family owes her something.”

The sharp whispers came from behind a marble pillar.

I stopped, watching a few women in expensive gowns trade scornful looks.

“Rebecca was always meant to be head curator. What right does she have to fight for it?”

“Exactly! The Don and Rebecca grew up together. A perfect match. Then this little painter shows up out of nowhere and steals the fiancée spot. Rebecca hasn’t said a word, and she’s the one throwing a fit?”

Little painter.

My fingers tightened around my glass.

“Besides, Rebecca was the one working the collectors day and night for this auction. She was gone half of last month. Who knows what she was up to.”

Miles's cousin, Gina, was the worst of them. “She’s just some useless artist who knows how to mix paints. What does she know about real art?”

Useless artist who knows how to mix paints.

I almost laughed out loud.

They’d never liked me. Not from the day Miles announced our engagement.

But Gina? Who was she to talk?

Last time in Vegas, she’d lost three million at the tables and was too scared to tell the family.

I was the one who covered her tracks, using my connections to make the debt disappear before her father found out.

She’d been crying, hugging me, calling me the future Donna of the family.

And now she was standing with these bitches, mocking me.

I’d had enough. I walked over, champagne in hand.

“Gina,” I said, my voice dripping with sweet venom. “Next time your father drops a million on ‘antiques,’ make sure he brings an expert.”

She instinctively touched the diamond necklace at her throat. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That diamond cut wasn’t invented until 1953,” I said with a smile. “An heirloom from the House of Bourbon? Don’t embarrass yourself with fakes.”

The corner went dead silent.

Gina’s face turned beet red. The other women’s smiles vanished.

“And another thing,” I continued. “That three-million-dollar debt in Vegas. Who paid it for you? What were you calling me back then?”

Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.

“Ungrateful bitch,” I whispered, my voice low and sharp.

I turned and walked away, heading for the terrace.

My head held high, each step of my heels a deliberate, heavy strike.

But the moment I stepped outside, the humiliation hit me like a wave.

For five years, I had worked to prove my worth.

I wasn't just some painter. I was a formally trained, gifted art authenticator.

I was the one who turned the family’s dirty assets into priceless works of art with flawless provenances.

I was the one who made sure their blood money could sit safely in bank vaults around the world.

But in their eyes, I was just what Rebecca painted me as: a useless artist.

Every time I earned my stripes, Rebecca found a way to steal the credit.

This time was no different.

I’d spent three months scouring Europe and finally tracked the real Caravaggio to the Vatican.

But just as I was about to fly out, I got an urgent call.

My mentor in Florence was on his deathbed.

He had taught me everything. Made me who I am.

As for the painting… I already knew where it was. I could get it anytime after he stabilized.

I sent my assistant ahead to make contact with the collector while I rushed to Florence.

I stayed by his side in the ICU for three days and three nights, my eyes burning red, until his heartbeat finally steadied.

He opened his eyes, weak, and squeezed my hand, telling me he was fine and that I should get back to my work.

The moment I stepped out of the hospital room, I got the call from Miles.

He told me Rebecca had handled it. That she’d secured the Caravaggio.

I hung up, stunned, and frantically dialed my assistant.

Straight to voicemail.

The assistant I’d trusted with every secret… had vanished.

I was wiping away an angry tear when the terrace door opened.

The sound of heels on marble. I didn’t have to look.

“Valerie,” Rebecca’s soft voice said behind me. “I’m so sorry. I know you’re upset.”

I turned to face her. She glided toward me, wearing that fake, pitying smile I knew so well.

“I’ll give you some credit,” she said, her voice dripping with false pity. “You helped.”

I laughed coldly. “Fine. Go tell Miles what you did to my assistant.”

The smile on Rebecca’s face froze.

“Tell him how you’ve been stealing my credit for years, sabotaging my work,” I said, stepping toward her. “Go on, Rebecca. Tell him what your ‘special talents’ really are.”

She was silent for a beat. Then, her syrupy-sweet act evaporated.

Rebecca scoffed. “I was just being polite. You didn’t actually believe that, did you?”

Her eyes flashed with triumph. “Everything I have, I earned. It has nothing to do with you.”

“Earned?” I was floored by her nerve. “Stealing my intel is earning it? Sabotaging my deals? Bribing my staff?”

“So what?” Rebecca’s voice turned sharp. “No matter what you do, you’re just setting the stage for me. The credit is mine. And Miles believes me.”

She lifted her chin, smug. “No one in this family will ever believe in you. You’re just Miles’s pretty little fiancée. A placeholder. They’ll kick you out eventually.”

“And sooner or later, Miles will be mine, too.”

As she spoke, she deliberately raised her wrist, showing off an antique bracelet.

It was engraved with the Falcone family crest.

My blood ran cold.

It was his mother’s. The Falcone family heirloom. Reserved for the future Donna.

“Where did you get that?” I snapped, stepping forward to get a closer look.

But as I reached for her, Rebecca took a clumsy step back, as if startled, and lurched right into me.

“Ah—!” she shrieked, flailing her arms.

I heard a sharp snap.

I looked down. The chain on my father's pocket watch was broken.

The ancient silver watch fell to the ground. The case popped open, the glass shattering with a sickening crack.

Rebecca’s stiletto heel came down right on top of it.

CRUNCH. The delicate gears inside were crushed. The tiny photo of my father holding me as a little girl—mangled. Unrecognizable.

“Oh, my goodness, I’m so sorry. I’m so clumsy,” Rebecca said, clutching her chest, pretending to be startled.

But I saw the flicker of triumph in her eyes.

That was the only thing I had left of my father.

When he died fifteen years ago, I’d cried all night, clutching that watch.

The photo inside was the last one we ever took. Him holding five-year-old me, his smile so warm.

Now it was destroyed. I couldn’t even see his face.

“You…” My voice trembled.

“I’m really so sorry, Valerie,” Rebecca said, feigning guilt. “It’s just a stupid watch. I’ll buy you a new one.”

Buy me a new one?

Did she think money could replace everything?

All the blood rushed to my head. I snapped.

I slapped her. Hard.

The red wine in my hand went with it, splashing across her face.

“Get. Out.” I snarled, each word a blade.

Rebecca clutched her cheek, red wine dripping down her face, staining her silver dress.

Tears welled in her eyes as she stared at me in disbelief.

I didn’t have time to wonder why she wasn’t fighting back. My mind was blank.

Just then, an iron grip seized my wrist.

Miles’s voice was laced with ice. “Valerie, have you lost your mind?”

Miles had rushed over to see Rebecca, crying and holding her face.

“Miles!” she sobbed, collapsing into his arms. “I was just trying to comfort her… but I tripped on my dress and… and I broke her watch…”

“And she hit me!” Rebecca cried, the red handprint on her cheek making her look utterly pathetic.

Miles’s rage turned on me. His cold eyes were like daggers. “Valerie! Is your jealousy so out of control you’d attack someone at your own party?”

“She did it on purpose!” I pointed at the crushed pieces of metal on the floor, my voice shaking with fury. “That was the only thing I had left of my father!”

Miles didn’t even glance at the wreckage. He just shook his head in disgust. “Was a broken watch worth acting like a damn maniac?”

His voice grew colder. “I thought you knew how to handle yourself. I guess they were right. You’re not cut out for this life.”

“You’re not fit to be the Donna of this family.”

I looked at the deep disappointment in his eyes, at the way he sheltered and protected Rebecca.

Something inside me died.

Miles wrapped his arm around Rebecca and led her off the terrace, leaving me alone.

I knelt and picked up the pieces of my father’s watch, each shard a new cut in my heart.

As I walked back through the ballroom, a figure appeared in front of me.

Rebecca’s friend, Sarah.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” she sneered, blocking my path. “Done throwing your little tantrum, your highness?”

I tried to step around her, but she moved with me.

The moment I turned, she stuck out her foot.

“Ah—!” I lost my balance and crashed right into the champagne tower behind me.

CRASH!

Dozens of glasses toppled over, drenching me in champagne.

Shards of glass flew everywhere. A sharp piece sliced my palm open, and blood welled up immediately.

“Oops, clumsy me,” Sarah said, feigning surprise. “Everyone, look! Valerie took a tumble!”

The entire hall turned to stare.

The whispers started, a wave of venom.

“Is she drunk?”

“First she hits Rebecca, now this. So embarrassing.”

“What does Miles even see in her?”

“Look at her. A complete mess. And she wants to run this family?”

I struggled to my feet, covered in alcohol and broken glass.

Just then, Miles walked past, his arm wrapped protectively around Rebecca. He looked right through me.

It was like I was invisible.

Amid the jeers and laughter, I pulled myself up and walked out.

Each step crunched on broken glass.

I made my way back to our bedroom, hand bleeding.

This place I once thought was our sanctuary now felt like a gilded cage.

I finally understood.

My five years of loyalty meant nothing against their twenty years of history.

His trust in her was an instinct I could never defeat.

Staying here wouldn’t just break my heart. It would break me.

I went to the vanity and opened the drawer, pulling out the first-aid kit Miles had put there for me.

I froze.

I remembered when I first moved in. I’d gotten a small papercut while restoring a painting.

Miles had panicked, ordering his men to place first-aid kits in every room of the estate.

“My woman doesn’t get a single scratch,” he’d said then.

Now, my hand was sliced open and bleeding, and he couldn’t even be bothered to look.

Everything had changed.

He didn’t trust me anymore.

I mechanically cleaned the wound and wrapped it in a bandage.

Then, I packed a small bag. Just a few of my own clothes and the shattered pieces of my father’s watch.

The jewelry, the designer bags, the car keys—I left everything else behind.

Finally, I walked to the bed and pulled the ten-carat diamond engagement ring from my finger.

It glittered under the lamp, its light as cold as Miles’s eyes had been.

I placed it on the nightstand.

The ring that marked me as the future Donna of the Falcone family. It meant nothing to me now.

Without love, it was all meaningless.

I grabbed my suitcase and walked out of that golden cage that had held me for five years and didn't look back.