The day someone told me I was legitimate blood of the Mafia family, I went from being the Don's daughter's personal maid to being the Don's daughter myself.

Three days after they brought me home to the family estate, I went looking for Luciano, the man I'd secretly married, and found him in the study, talking to Don Moretti.

"Nina is obedient. She wouldn't dare utter a word even when bullied. She is the perfect person to take the fall for Avery at that bloody party and she won't crack."

"Good, Luciano. You think of everything! She's nobody — a street girl. She walks into that bloodbath and dies, nobody's going to miss her. Let her go. Avery's waiting for you to make underboss first, then we do the wedding proper."

I stumbled back three steps. My heel hit the marble floor and the pain shot straight up my leg, but it was nothing compared to what just exploded in my chest.

I wasn't Don Moretti's real blood. And the man who had sworn his life to me, my own husband, was planning to send me into that slaughterhouse so he could marry the Don's actual daughter.

I'd already heard what happened to the last stand-in at one of those events. Shot to pieces. That news drove into my spine like an ice pick.

But what they didn't know, what I'd only just found out, was this:

My brother, who'd been missing for years, was the highest power in the Cosa Nostra. The one they called the Shadow King.

I ran. Fell twice on the way back.

My fingers had gone white, nails biting into my palms. My knees scraped open on the marble hallway floor and the blood came dripping down.

But the physical pain was nothing. The real wound was the one that had just been torn straight through the middle of my chest.

Four years. Four years I'd been at his side, watching him go from a street nobody to a made man with a crew behind him.

In winter, his hands cracked from the cold, so I tore apart my own leather gloves to wrap them, embroidered handkerchiefs to sell for gun oil and blades.

My hands bled and I never let him know.

In summer, he hated the heat, so I stayed up all night running a fan for him. Come morning I'd be out in the blazing sun hauling freight at the warehouse, negotiating with dock traders, doing whatever needed doing.

The third time he failed to take over a crew, he got blackout drunk and said he didn't want to live anymore. I stayed up watching him all night, and the next morning I smiled and told him, "It's fine. There's always next time."

I even sold myself into servitude at the Don's mansion to scrape together the bribe money he needed to move up. Signed the contract with all ten fingerprints. The broker told me: once you sign, your life isn't your own anymore.

What I thought was: it's okay. Once he makes his rank, he'll come back for me.

He did make his rank. And now the Don wanted him as a son-in-law, so he was going to use me as a chip and cash me into a grave.

I sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the half-melted white candle on the table.

The night we got married in that run-down little chapel, that candle was all we had. The priest was a drunk from down the block. The ring was an iron band Luciano had taken off a dead man's finger.

He said, "Nina, when I make crew boss, I'll buy you a thousand candles, and your wedding motorcade will stretch ten city blocks."

The wax had long since hardened into something that looked like a dried drop of blood. I couldn't bring myself to throw it away. I'd carried it with me for four years, and now the sight of it just made me sick.

I laughed. It sounded worse than crying.

That evening, Luciano came.

He was flushed, wearing a new custom-tailored suit with a silver tie bar. I remembered when he used to wear cheap leather jackets.

He'd been just as good-looking back then, but without this polished, well-fed distance that now sat between us.

He pushed open the door and found me still lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. He frowned, then smoothed it out and put on his soft smile.

I'd seen that smile a thousand times. Now it looked like someone else's face.

"Nina, you're still awake?" He sat down on the edge of the bed and reached out to touch my hair.

His hand was warm. I flinched like I'd been burned.

That gesture. He only did it when he wanted something from me. Last time, he needed me to settle a debt with a dock supplier. The supplier said I had to balance his books for three days.

I sat with those blood-money ledgers until my fingers went numb and my eyes were red, and when I brought the receipt back and fell into Luciano's arms, he snatched it away without once asking if I was tired.

"Nina, there's something I need to tell you." The corner of his mouth lifted, and there was joy in his eyes he couldn't quite hide. "The Don trusts me. He believes I can open the north corridor, and he wants me to marry his eldest daughter."

He paused, then sighed, the sigh of a man dispensing charity. "This is the Don's trust and his favor to me. I can't say no. So I'll have to ask something of you..."

My body went rigid, then started shaking.

He paused again, stroked my cheek, his voice dripping with sincerity. "You've been with me on the streets for four years. I won't forget that. Trust me — once I'm settled, I'll take care of you. I'll keep you close, as my favorite, for the rest of your life."

I almost threw up. There was nothing left in me to heave.

His favorite. That's the word he used.

Four years at his side, from the streets to the inside of a real crew: I signed a contract of servitude and starved myself so he could climb.

And all I got in return was favorite? Not a wife. Not even a name. Just a kept woman.

I sat up and looked straight at him.

Luciano flinched, a flash of guilt behind his eyes, then steadied into irritation.

"Avery was raised with everything she ever wanted. She's the Don's real daughter. She can't handle hard things the way you can."

His tone got impatient. "Nina, you've been through the rough stuff with me. You know how hard I worked to get here. Just be smart about this. Don't make it harder than it has to be."

Be smart.

I had been smart for four winters. Hands cracking, healing, scarring over again and again. While he strategized indoors, I hauled freight, ran accounts, took insults, froze in the cold.

The third time he failed to move up and said he had no money for the next bribe, I knelt in front of that broker and sold myself. The day I signed, the broker grabbed my wrist like he was appraising merchandise.

He knew all of this. But all he ever said was: "Nina, once I make my position, I won't let you down."

He made his position. And what I got was be smart.

My eyes burned. I tilted my head up and stared at him.

"You should be grateful, Nina!"

He snapped to his feet, like my stare had embarrassed him into fury. "Avery is the Don's daughter — old money, real class. I'm about to run the north territory. We're a match. That's how it works."

His voice went up, contempt sliding into his eyes. "And you? A street girl. I'm offering to take care of you, and that's more than you deserve after four years."

A street girl.

I looked down at my hands and felt my heart being squeezed dry.

Four years ago, in that beat-up chapel, the weak candlelight played across his face. He'd smiled, nervous and earnest at once, and held my hands and said: "Nina, I'm honored you'd have me. When I've made something of myself, you'll be my wife. One life, one loyalty, I swear it."

I'd carried that for four years. Through winter chilblains. Through hauling cargo until my arms couldn't lift. Through being hit in the face with a stiletto heel by the Don's daughter at the Moretti mansion. I'd held on to that promise.

Turned out I was the only one who had.

I spoke, and my voice came out so flat it surprised me.

"You're right. I got ahead of myself."

He blinked. "Really?" His eyes were suspicious.

I pulled up a smile. "Really. I'm just a street girl, Luciano. That you took an interest in me was already more than I deserved."

He exhaled and launched into his monologue: "Once I'm settled I'll raise your status," "I'll never let you go short," "Avery may be the wife but you're first in my heart."

White noise. I didn't hear a word.

When he left, a draft crept through the door and knocked the candle stub off the table. It hit the floor and snapped in two.

I bent down and picked up the pieces, held them in my palm. Outside, the night was heavy. I went to stand in the doorway.

Three days earlier, Avery had decided my coffee wasn't hot enough and poured the entire pot over my arm. The burn still hadn't healed. Wind hit the wound, cold and painful, but my head finally cleared.

They wanted me dead. I wasn't going to die. They wanted me as a pawn. I was going to blow up the whole board.

I needed to find my brother. Find the Shadow King.

First thing the next morning I put on the old coat Avery had thrown out, my "gift" from the Moretti estate since being brought back to the family. Nice fabric, worn through at the cuffs. She'd gotten tired of it.

I fixed my hair in the mirror. The face looking back was pale, but the eyes were unnervingly steady.

Out in the main hall, the orders had already come down. Luciano was having afternoon tea with Avery in the garden.

Don Moretti sat at the head of the table. When I walked up and volunteered to take the assignment, something lit up in his eyes.

"Nina. You mean that?"

I kept my head down. "Godfather, you've given me everything. Avery is my sister. If I can share her burden, it's an honor."

Only I knew that every word of that came out through gritted teeth.

Don Moretti turned the ring on his finger and nodded, like he was checking a piece of equipment.

"You've always been sensible." He smiled. "I thought I'd have to talk you into it. Nice to see you understand the bigger picture."

He didn't know that the Shadow King was my brother.

I kept my head bowed, hid my face, kept my voice soft.

"I've had a hard time out there. Being brought back to the family is already more than I could ask for. If I can spare my sister any trouble, that's what I should do."

Smooth and seamless. When you spend years as someone's servant, the thing you learn fastest is how to say exactly what they need to hear.

Luciano came in late, still glowing from his time with Avery. He got one foot in the door, heard my last words, and the look on his face went strange. He'd probably expected crying. A scene. Accusations. Not this.

Avery let a flash of satisfaction cross her face. She tucked herself under his arm and laughed, sharp-edged. "A servant's always a servant. Some people are just born to their knees. It's in the bone."

She barely glanced at me when she said it, the same tone she'd used when she'd made me jump into a freezing pool to fish out her earring, the same tone she'd used when she'd made me take the blame in front of the family elders.

Don Moretti gave her a token look. She pouted prettily. He chuckled, indulgent. Luciano's expression flickered. He started to say something but Avery tugged his arm, and he let himself be pulled into the Don's planning conversation.

I was the only outsider here. I stood in the cold while every person in that room circled around how to use me up.

I closed my eyes and pressed the weight of their looks into my memory until it was bone-deep.

They thought I was walking into my grave. They didn't know the Shadow King was my brother. Once he brought me back, I would become the most protected woman in the most powerful family in this city, and nobody would ever lay a finger on me again.

After the meeting broke up, Luciano came and found me.

He blocked my way, voice low and tight. "Nina. Why'd you agree? Did you change your mind about me? I told you I'd take care of you — don't do something stupid."

He still thought I didn't know the truth, that I was just sulking, going along with it out of spite. The fact that he'd lost control of the situation was clearly eating at him.

I stopped and looked up at him. My face was still.

This man, handsome and warm-eyed, the face I'd known for four years, and I had never once seen through him.

I smiled. "I'm doing it for you."

Something in his expression cracked. He grabbed my wrist. "I don't buy that. You said you'd wait for me. You said—" His voice shook. He was trying to keep it together and not quite making it.

I just looked at him. Four years, and this was the first time I'd seen him like this, eyes reddening, jaw tight, like a scared kid.

"Isn't this what you wanted?" I said quietly.

He froze.

"You want to marry Avery, don't you?" My voice sounded like someone else's, too calm and too distant. "You want to be the Don's son-in-law. You want a wife who's your equal in status."

"I—"

"I'm doing this for you." I cut him off, and even laughed a little. "What's the alternative — I make a scene? Scream that you can't marry someone else? Embarrass you in front of the Don, blow up everything you've worked for?"

Luciano's mouth opened. Nothing came out.

His hand went slack around my wrist and dropped to his side. He seemed to deflate, shoulders caving in. "Nina..."

"Don't worry." I stepped back. "I won't cause you any trouble once I'm gone."

He stood there watching me, something in his eyes: guilt, unease, and underneath it a shadow of loss, like something was slipping through his fingers.

But my eyes were cold. He had the nerve to look like he was about to cry.