I turned off my phone.

Seventeen encrypted messages from Vincenzo. I didn't answer a single one.

At two in the afternoon, the door to my studio was kicked open.

Marco, Vincenzo’s right-hand man, stormed in with four of his goons.

“Miss Chiara,” Marco’s voice was polite, but his hand was already on the butt of his gun. “The Boss wants to see you.”

I didn’t look up. I kept working on the painting in front of me. “Tell your boss I’m busy.”

“I’m afraid this isn’t a request.”

I put down my brush and stood up. “So you’re dragging me back by force?”

Marco didn’t deny it. “The Boss’s orders. Don’t make this ugly.”

Twenty minutes later, the car stopped in front of the Russo family estate.

This used to be my home. Now, it was just a cage.

I was “escorted” to my old art studio.

The moment the door opened, I froze.

The room was empty.

All my paintings, my easels, my paints, our only photo together…

Every trace of me was gone. Cleaned out.

In its place was opulent, Russian-style decor.

And hanging in the center of the wall was a huge oil painting.

It was Katerina, in a white dress, smiling like a saint.

“Like it? Katerina picked it out herself.”

Vincenzo’s voice came from behind me.

He was wearing a custom Brioni suit. Flawless.

Katerina was clinging to his side, blonde hair, blue eyes, an angel.

“Katerina,” Vincenzo said, his tone flat, “this is Chiara Rossi. The family’s most… useful asset.”

Katerina’s blue eyes flashed with innocence. Her voice was sweet. “It’s so nice to meet you. Vincenzo mentions you all the time. Says he doesn’t know who’d do all the family’s ‘dirty work’ if it weren’t for you. That must be so hard.”

She stressed the words “dirty work,” but her face was a mask of sympathy.

“It’s my honor to serve the family,” I replied, my face blank.

Vincenzo nodded, satisfied. He turned to Katerina. “Darling, let me introduce you to the uncles.”

He wrapped his arm around her and led her to the main hall. I followed like a shadow.

The family elders were already waiting.

One of them, Uncle Antonio, looked from me to Vincenzo and smiled. “Vincenzo, Chiara has been by your side for so many years. We all thought…”

Vincenzo cut him off, his voice cold.

“Uncle Antonio.” His face darkened. “Don’t say things that could be misunderstood.”

His eyes cut to me, his voice low, but carrying across the silent room.

“I would never dirty my hands with an underling.”

I lowered my eyes to hide the pain. I forced a smile. “Uncle Antonio, you’ve misunderstood. The Boss and I have always had a purely professional relationship.”

For a split second, Vincenzo’s expression froze. Then it was gone.

The tension in the hall vanished.

Katerina tightened her grip on Vincenzo’s arm and gave me a triumphant little smile.

Vincenzo walked past me. He started to raise his hand, like he always did, to pat my head.

But he stopped halfway. He fixed Katerina’s hair instead.

He leaned in, his voice a low growl only I could hear.

“Well done. Remember what you said tonight. Don’t disappoint me.”

The dinner began.

I sat alone at the far end of the long table, watching Vincenzo and Katerina at the head, accepting everyone’s congratulations.

Vincenzo felt me looking. He turned and met my gaze.

He raised his glass to me. His eyes were cold, full of approval.

Like he was praising a well-trained hound.

I raised my glass back, a perfect smile on my lips.

I hope you’re still smiling in seven days, Vincenzo. When I’m gone for good.

The dinner ended.

“Chiara, you’re coming too,” Vincenzo’s voice called from the top of the stairs.

I looked up. He was helping Katerina into her coat, his movements gentle in a way they never were with me. It was like swallowing acid.

“Of course,” he looked at me, his eyes like ice. “You’re my best intel specialist. Time to get familiar with your new boss.”

The armored car was waiting outside.

I instinctively moved toward the front passenger seat. A single look from Vincenzo stopped me.

“In the back,” he said.

Katerina took his arm and slid into the spacious middle row.

I was stuffed into the corner of the back row. An afterthought.

The car pulled away into the Chicago night.

The first bullet shattered the windshield without warning.

“Get down!” Marco yelled, wrenching the steering wheel.

Gunfire erupted from all sides, bullets hammering the car like hail.

“Shit!” Vincenzo pulled his gun. “It’s the Torrino family!”

I drew my Glock and fired back through the rear window. Katerina screamed and curled up in Vincenzo’s arms. He returned fire while shielding her with his body.

“It’s okay, baby, I’m here.”

The back tires blew out. The car spun out of control, heading for a wall.

Then I saw him. A hitter in a side tunnel, raising an RPG to his shoulder.

“Rocket!” I screamed.

Time slowed down.

The rocket streaked toward us, trailing fire.

In that split second, Vincenzo made his choice.

He grabbed Katerina, pulling her under him, using his back as a shield.

Then, he lifted his foot.

And with all his strength, he kicked. Not at the enemy. At me.

His boot connected with the door beside me, and the force launched me from the car. I hit the asphalt and tumbled, the world a blur of pain and concrete.

“No—”

BOOM.

A fireball swallowed everything behind me.

The heatwave threw me against the tunnel wall.

Shards of glass and metal rained down, cutting my skin.

I felt the sharp pain of broken ribs. Warm blood ran from my forehead, blurring my vision.

My last conscious thought before the darkness took me: I saw him crawl from the wreckage, Katerina clutched safely in his arms.

His suit was torn, but his eyes were sharp.

He gently stroked her hair, murmuring to her, then ran with her toward safety.

He didn’t even glance back. He never looked back.

I lay on the cold ground, listening to the crackle of fire eating metal.

Then the darkness took me.

When I opened my eyes, I was in the family’s secret medical wing.

“You’re awake,” old Dr. Castellano said, checking my pupils. “You’re lucky. Marco dragged you back from the blast right before it went up.”

“Vincenzo?” My voice was a rasp.

“The Boss is with Miss Katerina,” the doctor said, pausing. “She was badly shaken.”

I let out a silent, bitter laugh. Shaken.

“Doctor, turn on the monitor.”

The screen on the wall flickered on, showing feeds from all over the estate. I switched to Katerina’s room.

She was in a white silk nightgown, propped weakly against the pillows.

Vincenzo was sitting on the edge of the bed, feeding her soup, spoon by spoon. His movements were so gentle, like he was handling a priceless treasure.

“I almost lost you,” his voice trembled with fear. “I can’t live without you, Katerina.”

“I know. You saved me,” she whispered, touching his face. “You’re my hero.”

Then, Vincenzo pulled a velvet box from his pocket.

My heart stopped beating.

He got down on one knee. He opened the box. Inside was a massive diamond ring.

I recognized it. The ring passed down to the matriarch of the Russo family.

“Marry me,” he said, looking up at her, his eyes full of devotion. “Not for the family. Not for the alliance. Just because… I love you.”

Katerina burst into happy tears. “Yes! Of course, I will!”

He slid the ring onto her finger and kissed her hand.

I stared at the screen until it dissolved into static.

So, he knew how to say the words.

He just never said them to me.

Three days later, my door opened.

Vincenzo walked in, Katerina on his arm.

She wore a white Chanel suit. The family ring on her left hand glittered, stabbing at my eyes.

“Chiara,” Vincenzo’s voice was flat. “How are you feeling?”

“Still breathing,” I said, my voice like gravel. “Disappointed?”

Katerina walked to my bedside, her face a mask of fake concern. “I’ve been wanting to see you. I heard you were badly hurt protecting us. You’re so brave.”

Protecting you.

What a fucking joke.

“Just doing my job.”

“Your loyalty is very touching,” Katerina said. Her gaze dropped to the open collar of my hospital gown, zeroing in on the small phoenix tattoo just below my collarbone.

We got it after our first firefight together. Our first secret.

A flash of jealousy crossed her eyes. She turned to Vincenzo, her voice sickly sweet. “Darling, Chiara’s tattoo is so unique. But… I don’t really like it. It reminds me you have a past I don’t know about. It makes me feel… insecure.”

Vincenzo went still.

He was silent for a few seconds. Then he took out his phone and dialed Marco.

“Get Tony over to the hospital with his kit. Now.”

My blood ran cold. Tony was the family’s tattoo artist.

No. He wouldn’t…

Twenty minutes later, Tony Marcelli walked in, carrying a black case.

He saw me in the bed, then looked at Vincenzo, confused.

“Boss, you sure… you want to do this here?”

I thought he was here to erase mine. To strip me of our last secret. But I was wrong. It was so much worse. Vincenzo took off his own shirt.

The scars on his chest were suddenly blinding.

The ones I traced with my fingers after we made love. The marks of our life together.

The one on his left pec, from three years ago at the docks. I’d shoved him out of the way and took Tony the Butcher’s knife for him. He held me, covered in blood, and lost control for the first time, his eyes shot with red as he screamed my name. He’d said, "Chiara, you're mine. No one touches you."

The bullet graze on the right, from five years ago in Milan. We were cornered. I used a fake ID to talk us past the cops and get us out. He kissed my wounds and called me his goddess of victory.

And now he was going to erase it all.

“Right here,” Vincenzo said, revealing the much more intricate phoenix on his chest.

The one I designed for him when I was nineteen. One of a kind.

He pointed to the phoenix and gave Tony his order.

“Cover it. With the Russian double-headed eagle.”

“Boss!” Tony’s voice was tight. “Are you sure? A cover-up that big... it’s gonna hurt like hell. And it’s going to scar like a motherfucker.”

“Do as I say,” Vincenzo’s tone left no room for argument.

I struggled to sit up. “Vincenzo, you don’t have to—”

“Shut up.” He didn’t even look at me. His eyes were ice. “This has nothing to do with you.”

The buzz of the needle was sharp in the quiet room.

Blood seeped out, mixing with ink, a smear of red before my eyes.

I watched the phoenix I designed, the symbol of our past, get tortured, consumed, and swallowed whole by the eagle that stood for his alliance, his new woman.

Vincenzo gritted his teeth, sweat beading on his forehead, but he didn’t make a sound.

His eyes never left Katerina.

“Does it hurt?” Katerina asked, dabbing his sweat with a handkerchief.

“No,” he gritted out, his voice rough. He never took his eyes off her. “For you, nothing hurts.”

Two hours later, it was done.

Vincenzo’s chest was a mess of blood and raw flesh, but the snarling Russian eagle had completely replaced the phoenix.

My phoenix was gone.

“Perfect,” Katerina purred, kissing his bloody chest. “Now, inside and out, you belong only to me.”

Vincenzo looked at the strange, bloody symbol in the mirror. He gave Katerina a weak but satisfied smile.

“Yes,” he said, but his eyes found mine in the reflection.

“Now, I’m only yours.”