Mia offered to walk me out.

Blair got a call about a firefight down at the docks. "I have to handle this. I'll be back in ten."

That left just me and Mia in the hallway.

The air grew thick.

Mia held her teacup, the timid expression still on her face, but her eyes had changed.

"Miss Flora," she said, her voice still soft. "You really are beautiful."

"Thank you," I replied politely.

"But..." Mia's eyes glinted. "So what if you're a Don's daughter? Legally, you'll always be the other woman. The mistress hiding in the shadows."

I was stunned by the sudden change.

I thought she was a victim in this, too. But now I saw she knew everything.

I had no desire to engage. I turned to leave, but she stepped in my way.

"Have you seen this?" Mia held up her left hand. A magnificent diamond ring glittered on her finger. "Blair gave this to me to make up for not having a big wedding. He said only a wife deserves a ring like this."

I clamped down on the pain in my chest. "What exactly are you trying to say?" I asked, my voice cold.

Seeing she wasn't getting a rise out of me, Mia stepped closer, her smile turning into a sneer. "Aren't you ashamed? If your dead father knew his daughter was another man's mistress, he'd roll over in his grave."

"You—"

"And your mother," Mia pressed on, her voice dripping with venom. "I hear she's still telling everyone her daughter is about to become the Donna. How pathetic. If she knew the truth..."

That was the line.

"Shut your mouth!" I snarled, shoving her away from me.

Mia stumbled back theatrically and fell to the floor with a pained cry.

"Flora! What the hell are you doing?" Blair's voice boomed from behind me.

He rushed over to where Mia was clutching her ankle, immediately crouching to check her injury.

"Her ankle is sprained." He looked up at me, his eyes blazing with fury. "Flora, what is wrong with you?"

I met his glare without flinching. "Ask her what she just said to me."

Mia’s voice was thin and shaky. "Blair, I didn't... I just told her she was pretty..."

I wasn't going to watch her pathetic act.

"She cursed my dead father and called my mother a fool! Is that your idea of a harmless, fragile woman?"

Blair took a deep breath.

"Even if she said something out of line, you don't put your hands on her. When did you become this unreasonable?"

Unreasonable?

I watched him shield Mia behind him, and the fire in my chest was instantly doused with ice water.

"She called me a mistress and insulted my parents, so I'm the one who's unreasonable?"

I laughed, but tears streamed down my face. "And you? Lying to me for six years, what do you call that?"

"Enough," Blair said coldly. "I thought you'd accepted this. I didn't realize you were this fucking dramatic.”

He looked at me with disgust. "When will you ever be gentle and understanding, like Mia?"

I remembered a time, after I'd dragged him through a hail of bullets, he'd told me, "This is what I love most about you. You never back down."

Another lie.

"Blair," I said, wiping away my tears, my voice calm again. "There's nothing left for us to talk about."

He paused. "You said the wedding..."

"That's right. The wedding is still on," I said, my gaze shifting from his gloating little actress of a wife back to him. "After six years, I deserve a goddamn spectacle, don't I?"

Now, I couldn't wait for the wedding.

I couldn't wait for this farce to be over.

The heads of every major crime family in the country were gathered at St. Patrick's Cathedral.

Sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows, illuminating a sea of white roses.

I walked down the aisle on Blair’s arm, my couture gown trailing behind me.

In the front pew, my mother watched me, her eyes filled with happy tears.

The ceremony moved to the vows.

The bishop's solemn voice echoed through the cathedral.

"Blair Falcone, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health...?"

Blair turned to me, his deep blue eyes locked on mine.

He opened his mouth, the words "I do" on the tip of his tongue.

BANG!

The massive cathedral doors burst open.

One of Blair’s men staggered in, his face sheet-white. "Don! It's... it's Mrs. Falcone! She's at the suburban house—she slit her wrists! She tried to kill herself!"

Gasps and whispers erupted through the pews. A hundred pairs of eyes drilled into me.

Blair’s pupils contracted.

The hand that was holding mine went slack and fell away.

He instinctively turned to run.

"Blair!" I grabbed his arm, my grip like a vise.

A sharp pain shot through my abdomen, but I ignored it. All I could see was the humiliated look on my mother's face.

"Don't go," I begged, my eyes burning, my nails digging into his sleeve. "My mother is watching. Please. Stay and finish the ceremony. Don't do this to her..."

"A ceremony?!" he snarled, ripping his arm from my grasp. "Is that more important than Mia's life?!"

The force of it sent me stumbling back. The bridal bouquet fell from my hands and scatteredon the floor.

The ruby matriarch's ring slipped from my finger, rolling down the altar steps and into the shadows.

He didn't hesitate for a second. He strode toward the doors.

The pain in my stomach was like a knife twisting. I could feel a warm liquid trickling down the inside of my thigh.

I bit my lip until I tasted blood and used the last of my strength to scream at his retreating back:

"Blair! If you walk out that door today, you and I are over! Forever!"

He stopped for a single heartbeat.

He half-turned, giving me only his cold, hard profile. "This venomous side of you... willing to let a woman die for a fucking ceremony... I don't even recognize you anymore."

Then, without another look back, he was gone.

The second he vanished through the doors, there was a heavy thud from the front row.

I turned to see my mother collapsed on the cold, hard pew, her face as white as a sheet.

"Mom!"

I tried to run to her, but my legs gave out. I crumpled to the floor.

Beneath my pristine white wedding dress, a large, crimson flower bloomed and spread.

My baby...

(Blair's POV)

Blair tore through the city, breaking every speed limit on the way to the hospital.

He found Mia lying in bed, her cheeks rosy, with only a light bandage wrapped around one wrist.

The doctor stood nearby, looking awkward. "Don Falcone, the cut was very superficial. It didn't hit an artery. She's in no danger."

The tension in Blair’s body vanished, replaced by a wave of irritation.

It wasn't that he wanted Mia dead.

But right then, he had a moment of clarity: this whole mess had wrecked the perfect ritual he’d planned for him and Flora.

It was all supposed to go so smoothly…

"Blair!" Seeing the look on his face, Mia threw herself into his arms, crying, her arms locked around his neck. "I'm sorry. I was just so scared of losing you. When I thought about you in that church, making vows to her... I wanted to die."

"I'll apologize to Flora," she sobbed. "I'll do anything she wants, just please don't be mad at me."

Looking at her, so fragile and helpless, the anger in his gut gave way to a tired sense of duty.

He sighed, his voice softening just a little. "Alright. No more stunts like this. Get some rest."

Blair patted her back, trying to comfort her, but his mind was replaying the broken, resolute look in Flora's eyes.

And her last words. We are over. Forever.

A sudden, baseless panic seized him.

Just then, his phone rang. It was his second-in-command, Vito.

Vito's voice was frantic. "Don! The cathedral... something terrible has happened at the cathedral!"