I turned my head.

It was Lucian. The man who’d protected me for ten years, the one I’d trusted since I was a child.

For the five years of my marriage alliance with Marco, he had faded into the background, fearing gossip would tarnish my name. Only now could he stand openly before me again.

"Did that bastard Marco give you trouble again? Did he touch you?"

He wore a long black coat, standing tall and imposing, his gaze sharp as a hawk's, yet filled with a familiar sense of safety.

"Lucian."

The ice in my gaze thawed slightly. I forced a smile, waving the papers in my hand.

"Look. I'm free."

I took a deep breath. "I should have listened to you. Marco Bellini was never a man to be trusted. If I had, I wouldn't have wasted the last five years."

Seeing the exhaustion in my eyes, Lucian's heart clenched, and he pulled me into a tight embrace.

"Seraphina, do you have any idea what these last five years were like for me? Half of me wanted you to lose the bet, and the other half was desperate for you to win."

My vision blurred. I closed my eyes and burrowed into his warm, strong embrace.

Five years. I had lost everything. God, I was so tired.

Marco had no idea that my decision to marry him five years ago, to secure our family alliance, had driven a wedge between me and Lucian, the man I grew up with.

He had tried everything to stop the marriage, insisting Marco was untrustworthy. But I had fought him like a caged animal, desperate to break free from what I saw as his overbearing protection.

Finally, worn down by our fighting, Lucian proposed a bet.

"You say he's loyal to the alliance? Fine. I'll give you a chance to prove it. Seraphina, let's make a bet."

He made a pact with me: for five years after the wedding, I would fake a disfiguring scar. If Marco could consistently show respect for me and the Valeriano family, Lucian would back off and accept my choice.

But the marriage didn't last.

The first year, I faked a car accident and was left with a "hideous" scar.

The second year, he stopped calling me his wife in public.

The third year, he started staying out all night.

…

As the scar on my face lingered, Marco’s attitude soured.

First, he dropped the pretense of caring about my "trauma." The gestures on family anniversaries stopped. When I confronted him, he'd say dismissively, "We're allies. What's the point of all that ceremonial bullshit?"

Then came the silence, especially at family dinners. The sight of my face soured his mood, and he began to prefer the company of his men.

Soon after, his impatience grew. He'd claim to be handling turf disputes when he was actually on a date with Jenna.

My family's intelligence network even got me a recording. One of his men was teasing him:

"Boss, didn't you used to dote on the Principessa? Right after the alliance, you couldn't wait to tell all of Chicago that Seraphina Valeriano was a prize, that you'd found true love. It's only been three years. How come you avoid her now?"

Marco's voice was sharp with irritation. "That Seraphina. I was crazy about her at first, but that was for her face and her family's name. Who knew one car accident would ruin it all? Seeing that face every day, with her throwing her family’s honor in my face… it makes me sick. Don't even talk about touching her. I haven't laid a hand on her in a year. I just can't bring myself to do it."

Hearing those words, my blood ran cold.

Marco had whispered in my ear countless times, "Seraphina, I love your soul, not just your face. Even if your beauty fades, my loyalty to you, and to the Valeriano family, will never change."

But the truth was, a single "scar" was enough to reveal his true colors.

But I was still soft-hearted. Even after his cruel words, I kept giving him chances, telling myself it was a momentary lapse, a flash of frustration.

It wasn't until a family meeting, when I walked in on him getting the Valeriano family crest—the symbol of our alliance—lasered off his skin, clearing a space for Jenna’s name.

I snapped and pulled a gun on them.

Marco's first instinct was to shield Jenna. Then he looked at me with disgust.

"Seraphina, have you had enough? I'm sick of looking at that face. Look at you, you're acting like a psycho. What man wants that?"

His words, sharp as daggers, twisted in my heart. I thought this alliance was for life. It couldn't even survive five years.

"It's okay. No matter how bad it was, it's all over now."

Lucian's hand squeezed mine, pulling me from the haze of memory.

"Seraphina, forget all that. Look forward."

He used his thumb to brush the moisture from the corner of my eye and smiled as he led me to his car.

In the car, his face was alight with a poorly suppressed excitement, his usual composure cracking under the thrill of the moment.

"Seraphina, I feel like I'm dreaming. I've dreamed of this moment countless times, and now it's real. Seraphina, I'm not Marco. I swear, I will spend my life loving and protecting you."

I smiled and then opened my phone.

"Yes, it's time for a new beginning. At tonight's charity gala, I want all of Chicago to know there’s a new man by my side."

Marco was at an underground auction with Jenna when he saw photos of me and Lucian on the society pages, attending a gala.

He stared at the Seraphina in the photo—her face radiant, a blooming black dahlia. She stood beside another man, arm in arm, a sweet smile on her lips.

An invisible fist clenched around Marco's heart, a wave of agitation washing over him.

"Seraphina… when did she become so beautiful?" Marco muttered to himself.

For five years, he had grown sick of Seraphina's scarred face. That scar was a brand, a constant reminder of this failed alliance. A rival boss had once sneered, "What kind of taste does Marco Bellini have, shackled to a damaged woman like that," and Marco had never taken her to a public event again.

But the stunning woman in the photo was not the Seraphina he remembered.

"Hey, Marco, I'm talking to you!" A heavy hand slapped Marco's shoulder.

Jenna whined, "What's the meaning of this? Do you even want to marry me? I heard Seraphina's dowry was the entire East Side. And you won't even bid on a diamond necklace for me? This is so humiliating! You don't care about me at all, do you?"

Marco's brows knitted in annoyance. He tossed a black card at her.

"Knock yourself out."

Jenna’s pout vanished. She giggled as she took the card, but when she looked up and her eyes met mine across the room, the smile froze on her lips.

"Seraphina… why are you here?"

Jenna glanced from me to Marco, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Don't tell me you regret the annulment and came here to stalk Marco?"

Lucian and I exchanged a smile.

"We're at an auction. What do you think?"

Hearing my voice, Marco looked up sharply. He stood and strode over to us.

"Seraphina?" he scoffed. "I didn't expect you to be so resourceful, finding a new man days after our marriage ended. But your acting is clumsy. You think I don't see through this act? You're just using this guy to get my attention."

I said nothing.

After all, I’d been down this road before. In the early days of his betrayal, I’d been a woman possessed, frantically sending our family’s men to find evidence of his disloyalty, torturing myself with every detail they brought back. Each time, my reward was his escalating cruelty. He went from secretive to brazen, even bringing Jenna into Bellini territory in front of my own family members, or leaking our business to rivals, goading me to admire his 'power' to do as he pleased.

But the moment the annulment was signed, I had ended the self-torture and drawn a line in the sand.

My face was a blank mask. "You're mistaken," I said faintly. "I'm getting married."

"Married?" Marco laughed as if it were the funniest joke in the world. "You? Does this guy have any idea how unstable you are?"

He turned to Lucian, his words laced with provocation.

"Listen, pal, you better understand what you're getting into. Don't sign any papers until you realize you're marrying a psycho who'll tear your life apart. I'm warning you for your own good. I'm her ex-husband. I stared at that face for five years. I know her better than anyone. I'd be careful if I were you."

Lucian glanced at me with a half-smile and nodded.

"Mr. Bellini. What a coincidence. We were going to have an invitation delivered, but since we ran into you, this saves us the postage."

He smoothly pulled an invitation from his coat pocket and handed it to Marco.

"Seraphina and I are getting married next month. You're welcome to come."

The color drained from Marco's face. He stared at the gold-embossed invitation for a long time, then let out a cold laugh.

"Seraphina, you've really stepped up your game. You've even got props. This is some realistic acting. Is there any line you won't cross? You might fool them, but you can't fool me."

Right in front of me, he tore the invitation to shreds.

Lucian's face hardened. "You bastard."

He started to step forward, but I stopped him.

"It's fine," I smiled. "One less guest to worry about."

I turned to the auctioneer, who was introducing the final item.

"Besides, we came for the 'Queen's Heart,' didn't we? It's starting."

When the hammer fell, and I'd casually won the 50-carat pink diamond, the color drained from Jenna's face.

"Marco, look, she bought the 'Queen's Heart'!"