I stepped out of the car and into the house Raphael had bought for us.

The living room was a mess.

Raphael’s mother, a crass and bitter woman, was sobbing on the couch.

When she saw me, she flew at me like a woman possessed, her finger jabbing at my face.

“You curse! You’re a black widow! It’s all your fault! You killed my son! Get out! I don’t want to see you!”

Her finger was practically in my eye.

Raphael had always said he was trying to build his empire to be worthy of me. Before I knew the truth, I actually felt guilty.

Not anymore.

【Here we go. The classic evil mother-in-law.】

【This old bitch. Her son is off living it up, and she's here putting on a show.】

【Get her, girl! Show her you don’t mess with a Rossi princess!】

I didn’t flinch. I didn’t even change my expression.

I just watched her until she ran out of breath.

Then, I smiled and took a step forward.

I leaned in close, my voice a whisper only she could hear.

“Old woman, does Raphael know about your boy toy in Vegas? The one with the five-million-dollar gambling debt? Or… would you like the IRS to know you’ve been embezzling from the Russo charity fund to pay it off?”

Her body went rigid.

“You…” Her face went pale, her lips trembling. She couldn’t form a single word. She looked at me like I was the devil himself.

I stepped back, my smile polite and distant again.

I raised my voice so everyone in the room could hear.

“Mrs. Russo, I think you’re right. Just like you, seeing all of Raphael’s things around just makes the pain worse.”

I turned to Leo and Nico, who were staring, stunned.

“So, I’ve decided to get rid of everything that belonged to Raphael. Burn it, throw it out, I don’t care.”

“Also,” I added, my eyes sweeping over every face in the room, “starting today, I’m moving out. This place… it makes me sick.”

“You… you dare!” Raphael’s mother was shaking with rage. She pointed a finger at me, then her eyes rolled back and she collapsed.

The room erupted into chaos.

Leo and Nico scrambled to help her, caught completely off guard.

I watched the circus with cold indifference, then turned and went upstairs.

I didn't pack a thing.

Everything in this house was tainted by Raphael. It all made my stomach turn.

I only grabbed my purse and my car keys.

My phone buzzed. A new text.

It was from my best friend, Sofia Falcone.

She was the daughter of the Falcone family, the most powerful of New York’s Five Families.

The text was simple.

【Sweetie, I heard what happened. Maybe you need a change of scenery? My brother has a penthouse overlooking Central Park that’s just sitting empty. You should move in for a while.】

The sky outside was dark, threatening a storm.

I was weighing her offer. If I went to my own place, Leo and Nico would find me and I didn’t want the hassle.

My screen lit up again.

An unknown number.

For the last five years, whenever I was out late, sick, or on a stormy night like this, a short text would arrive from this number.

I always assumed it was spam or some creep.

Heavy rain in Manhattan tonight. Stay dry.

The message was blunt, cold, yet strangely all-knowing.

Just as I was about to delete it, the comments in front of my eyes went insane.

【Don't delete it! Girl, no! That's him! The male lead!】

【OMG, Marcello Falcone has been cyber-stalking his crush for five years? That's kinda sweet, in a psycho way.】

【That's the real main character! The one who goes to war with the entire world for you!】

【Save the number! Label it 'Hubby'! NOW!】

My finger froze over the screen.

Marcello Falcone?

The cold-blooded Don of the Falcone family, the man with blood on his hands? The man the other families feared like the plague?

He was the one sending me weather reports for three years?

A thrilling, absurd feeling crawled up my spine.

I hesitated, then just turned off the screen and drove to the address Sofia had sent.

The elevator doors opened into a world of minimalist black, white, and grey.

The air smelled faintly of cedar and tobacco—Marcello Falcone’s scent. It was aggressive, predatory, but for some reason, it made me relax.

I took off the diamond ring on my finger. Raphael had given it to me when he proposed. I’d cried my eyes out, even though the ring wasn’t particularly impressive.

But now—

I pulled it off without a second thought and tossed it, along with its promise of “eternal love,” into the trash.

It made a small, satisfying clink.

Sofia must have been really worried about me, because she didn’t just drag me to a bar, she brought distractions.

I stared at the four men lined up in front of me, each one a model ripped from a magazine cover. I was not amused.

“I figured my brother wasn’t your type,” Sofia mumbled, “so maybe one of these guys is? They’re all better than Raphael Russo, anyway.”

One was rugged, another was preppy. All of them had plastered-on smiles.

“Ms. Cecilia, we’re all yours tonight,” a blond one said, reaching for my hand.

I stepped back, avoiding his touch.

“Sofia, I don’t need this.”

The old Cecilia might have played along just to spite Raphael.

But I wasn’t going to do anything stupid because of him. Not anymore.

Sofia looked surprised—she’d never seen me so firm—but she quickly waved the men away. “Okay, okay, you’re the queen. But we are getting drunk! No leaving sober!”

As the models filed out of our private room, Leo, lurking in a corner, snapped a photo with his phone and sent it to Raphael.

A second later, his phone rang.

Raphael’s voice was raw with fury, tight enough you could practically hear the veins popping in his forehead. “She threw out my things, fine, but now she dares to—”

“Raphael, what’s wrong?” Chloe’s sweet voice cooed in the background. “Oh my, couldn’t Cecilia wait? You’ve only been ‘dead’ for two days and she’s already with four other men… You really can’t judge a book by its cover.”

Raphael was silent for a moment, then his tone shifted, becoming smug and confident.

“She’s just testing me.”

“What?” Leo asked carefully.

“She’s lashing out,” Raphael said, a smile back in his voice. I could picture him leaning back in his lounge chair, a conceited smirk on his face. “Throwing out my things, hiring escorts… it’s how she’s dealing with the pain. She’s trying to see if she can be with anyone else now that I’m gone. And obviously, she can’t. She sent them all away, didn’t she?”

“But Boss, she seemed really angry. And she wasn’t wearing the engagement ring…”

“It’s because she loves me so much it turned to hate,” Raphael cut him off, his voice certain. “You don’t understand Cecilia. She can’t let me go. The crazier she acts now, the more it proves she loves me.”

“Leo, just keep an eye on her. Don’t let any other guys touch her.”

Raphael took a sip of his drink, his voice lazy and cruel.

“She’s getting a taste of life without me. When I ‘come back’ in three months, she’ll understand just how precious I am. And then…”

He paused.

“She’ll cling to me like a scared little puppy, and she’ll never let go.”

The pop-up comments relayed every one of Raphael’s arrogant assumptions to me.

【A man this stupid and this much of a scumbag is a dangerous combination. Does he seriously not get that she’s over him?】

【Is this that ‘She’s-so-crazy-about-me’ syndrome I’ve heard about?】

I couldn’t help but let out a snort of derision.

Just then, an Instagram notification popped up.

Chloe again.

This time, it was a selfie from a bed. She had that post-sex glow, with fresh bruises on her skin. The man next to her was mostly out of frame, but I recognized the arm instantly.

The caption: “While he was pounding into me, he told me I was the best he’s ever had. That his fiancée never made him feel like this.”

A wave of nausea hit me.

Comments flew across my vision:

【This scumbag and this bitch deserve each other. They’re a perfect match in disgustingness.】

【Did he ever stop to think how a woman with a terminal illness has the energy for rough sex?】

【There is no illness! Chloe bribed a doctor to fake the records!】

【After you two get married, she’ll come back to New York, ‘miraculously cured.’】

【While you’re drowning in family business, they’ll be screwing on your office desk! Right under your nose!】

My stomach churned.

Fueled by pure rage, I knew exactly how to get back at Raphael.

As his fiancée, I knew too many of his dirty secrets. I used to be his shield. Now, I’d be the one to bury him.

I logged onto a dark web forum and found the Guzman Cartel—the most vicious drug lords on the Mexican border.

Raphael had recently hijacked one of their shipments, planning to sell it to an Eastern European crew for a massive profit.

His plan was solid. But I wasn’t going to let it happen.

I created an encrypted file containing the exact coordinates of the hidden shipment, the offshore account where Raphael stashed the money, and a recording of his call with the buyers.

I attached a single line of text:

“I’ve got something that’ll get you Raphael Russo’s head on a platter. Interested?”

Sent.

I knew what this meant. The Guzmans were animals. They would hunt Raphael to the ends of the earth.

After doing it, I felt a little of the weight lift from my chest.

Sofia was passed out on the couch behind me, hugging a pillow and mumbling about how “all men are pigs.”

I’d had a lot to drink myself. When I got back to the penthouse, I fell into bed and passed out.

Sometime in the middle of the night, I felt my fingertips touch something that wasn't a soft feather pillow. It was warm, hard, and rising and falling with a steady breath…

Muscle?

My hand froze.

The feeling was terrifyingly clear. Taut abs, a solid chest. I could even feel a strong, steady heartbeat beneath the skin.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The alcohol wore off in an instant.

This wasn’t a pillow. It was a man.

【Ahhh! Run, girl! Or… Jump him!】

【it's the villain! In the same bed! This is getting spicy! Can we even watch what happens next?】

Before I could pull my hand back, a hand clamped down on my wrist.

The grip was incredibly strong, an absolute show of force that yanked me across the bed.

My world spun.

I was pinned beneath him, my back against the cool silk sheets, a scorching hot body pressed against my front. An aura of pure danger enveloped me.

I couldn’t see his face, but I could feel his eyes on me in the darkness, like he was about to devour me whole.

His grip tightened, and a pained gasp escaped my lips.

Then, a low, gravelly voice—like a cello string pulled taut in the dead of night—rumbled next to my ear.

“Who?”