I spent weeks planning my engagement ceremony to Angelo, the new Don of Chicago's Rizzo family. However, at the ceremony, Angelo publicly announced he was marrying Giuliana, his dead brother's widow.

When I rushed forward to confront him, Giuliana clutched her chest and collapsed.

A furious Angelo placed me under house arrest at a remote estate, accusing me of ruining Giuliana's happiness and causing her heart attack.

Three years later, I returned to Chicago as the fiancée of the underworld king, Lorenzo Castiglione, accompanying him to a charity gala.

Angelo arrived with Giuliana, who was draped in luxury. He was there to plead with Lorenzo for control of a lucrative new project.

He saw me being stopped by security outside and glanced at the folder in my hands.

"I heard you shacked up with some low-level nobody just to spite me. Regretting it now?" He added, "Beg, and I might consider letting you in."

I didn't even bother to look at him.

Lorenzo had forgotten a crucial encrypted file at home. I had to get it to him before the gala began.

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1

"No invitation, you're not getting in. Scram."

The gala was about to start. A burly security guard shoved me hard, his massive frame casting a shadow over me.

I stumbled back, nearly dropping the file folder clutched in my arms.

The entire hotel was on high alert. A distinguished guest's diamond necklace had gone missing, and tense-looking Castiglione Soldati were everywhere.

"These are urgent documents—"

"Don Castiglione doesn't see just anyone," the guard sneered. "Especially not a social climber like you."

He sniffed derisively, his eyes filled with contempt.

"You don't carry the mark of any family. I heard the Don is about to announce his engagement. God knows what kind of schemes you desperate women are cooking up."

He pushed me toward the door. I lost my balance and crashed straight into a solid chest.

A familiar scent of tobacco and expensive cologne enveloped me.

My head snapped up.

Angelo.

Three years. He was still as tall and imposing, his tailored suit flawless. But his eyes were colder, harder.

A flicker of shock registered in his eyes when he saw me, but it vanished in an instant, replaced by that same old arrogance.

He waved a hand, dismissing the guard.

The guard, so aggressive moments before, now scuttled away with a fawning smile, shooting me one last venomous glare before he vanished.

"Chiara?" His voice was low and dangerous. "What are you doing here?"

I straightened, deliberately putting distance between us. "None of your business."

"Following me?" Angelo descended the steps slowly. "It's been three years. I thought you had more self-respect. The family cast you out. What are you doing back here?"

I watched his lips move, but the words were just noise. My mind was already somewhere else.

The endless torment in that estate had taught me one thing: I didn't need him.

I contacted the family elders and accepted the engagement they had arranged: a marriage to the king of the underworld, Lorenzo Castiglione.

A month later, Angelo came to the estate to "release" me himself.

I never once met his gaze. I just stepped into Lorenzo's waiting car and headed to his estate in New York for our engagement ceremony, leaving Angelo far behind.

Before long, Lorenzo became the undisputed head of the entire North American mafia Commission.

Before I could answer, a sickly sweet voice drifted from behind him.

"Angelo, who's causing trouble?"

Giuliana glided over, wearing a custom silk gown.

She linked her arm intimately with Angelo's.

When she saw me, a flawless, practiced smile spread across her face.

"Chiara? Oh my god, is it really you!" she feigned surprise. "It's been three years. Have you... been well?"

Her gaze lingered on my jeans and sneakers.

"Looks like you've fallen on hard times."

"What's that in your hands?" Her sharp eyes zeroed in on the file folder.

Angelo snatched it from my grasp.

"Give it back!"

He sidestepped me easily and tore open the seal.

"Weapon schematics," he read from the cover, his brow furrowing. Then he scoffed.

"I heard you shacked up with some low-level nobody just to spite me. Looks like it's true."

My heart hammered against my ribs.

"You vanish without a word, and now you've stooped to drafting blueprints for some third-rate chop shop?"

His voice was laced with pity. "Without the family's protection, married to a useless bum. Chiara, have you really fallen this far?"

"What are you talking about?"

I snatched the file back.

He had no idea. A batch of faulty Russian weapons had recently flooded Chicago's black market, causing massive casualties. That was why Lorenzo was so intent on this investigation.

The Commission's headquarters were in New York. I had refused to set foot in Chicago for years, so it was no surprise that no one here recognized me.

"What's wrong? Cat got your tongue now that I've exposed your pathetic little life?"

Seeing my silence, he mocked me with a sneer.

"There's an important charity gala here tonight. If Don Castiglione finds out some nobody trespassed on his property, you're finished."

A flicker of pity crossed his eyes.

"But for old times' sake, I can get you in. All you have to do is beg. Show me some submission. I might even clear out an office on my turf for your pathetic boyfriend."

Submission? An office?

For me?

For the woman whose fiancé controlled the entire North American underworld?

For the woman who could have anything she wanted?

Who the hell did Angelo think he was?

"Chiara, you're still so stubborn." He shook his head at my expression. "Three years, and you haven't matured at all."

In a fit of rage, I stomped on his foot.

My heel dug deep into his expensive, handmade leather shoe.

"Ah!" Angelo yelped, his hand shooting out to grip my wrist. "What the hell do you think you're doing? You can't just barge in here! This is Castiglione territory!"

"Three years, and you're still the same spoiled brat. For God's sake, grow up!"

"Look at you now! Was being the lady of the Rizzo family really worth all this? Worth throwing a tantrum and running off with a nobody?"

Just as we were about to explode, Giuliana clutched her chest, her breathing becoming shallow and ragged.

"I'm sorry... If I hadn't lost my husband..." she said weakly, "Angelo wouldn't have felt so sorry for me... wouldn't have wanted to give me a title..."

Here we go again. Same old act.

"After you left, the family was in chaos. For a while, Angelo couldn't explain the absence of his fiancée," she went on, her performance seamless. "But now that you're back, you can have it all. I'm just a helpless widow. I'll step aside..."

Seeing her turn pale and sway, Angelo immediately steadied her.

"Giuliana, don't say that." He comforted her gently, then glared at me. "Are you happy now, Chiara?" he demanded, his voice turning cold and cruel.

"The woman by my side is Giuliana. It will always be Giuliana. And even if you came crawling back, begging for a crumb of my attention, I wouldn't waste a single glance on you."

In his arms, Giuliana flashed me a triumphant smile only I could see.

Everything from three years ago flooded back—the engagement ceremony I had planned, repurposed for another woman; the agony in the estate, the despair as drugs gnawed at my will...

But this time was different.

I was no longer the Chiara who wept in that desolate estate.

"Don't flatter yourself," I sneered. "My fiancé is Lorenzo. Lorenzo Castiglione. Why on earth would I regret a thing?"

Angelo flinched, the contempt in his eyes instantly swallowed by shock.

"Lorenzo?" he repeated, his voice trembling slightly. "You mean... Don Lorenzo Castiglione?"

Giuliana let out a shrill laugh.

"Chiara, have you lost your mind?" Giuliana's voice was a screech. "Why would a man like Don Castiglione want a woman cast out by her own family?"

An outcast.

My heart clenched.

Only Angelo knew that word.

He’d once told me that after my father's accidental death, the family elders saw my mental breakdown as a liability and nearly cast me out.

He had even told Giuliana.

"Stop talking nonsense," Angelo scoffed, regaining his composure. "Chiara, there's a limit to your lies."

"You don't believe me? Fine. Watch. I'll have him come out and get me himself."

I tried to dial Lorenzo's private number, but the silent no-signal icon on my screen mocked me.

Damn it. The Commission had blocked all signals in the area to prevent wiretaps and assassinations.

But I remained calm.

I pulled out my phone again, but my heart sank as I remembered.

I’d gotten a new phone upon returning to Chicago, and its contact list was completely bare.

Giuliana saw my predicament and burst out laughing.

"Look, she can't even make a single call. Chiara, you're a terrible actress."

She stepped forward, feigning sympathy.

"Alright. For old times' sake, there's still a place for you on Angelo's turf. I don't mind taking in a pitiful soul."

With Angelo's promise seemingly secure, she couldn't even be bothered to pretend anymore.

"Old times' sake?" I scoffed. "What right do you have to mention that?"

Angelo looked at me, his expression thick with disappointment.

"Chiara, if you need help, if you have regrets, is it so hard to just bow your head to me?"

"I still don't get it. Was being my wife that important to you? So important you’d hold a grudge for three years?"

A grudge?

I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

"I thought you would grow up, that you'd understand my reasons for what I did," he continued. "But you're still so childish."

His reasons?

Locking me away in that estate, to be broken by drugs and psychological torment—those were his reasons?

"You have no idea what I care about," I said, my voice dangerously low.

"Then what do you care about?" Angelo demanded impatiently. "Isn't it because I chose Giuliana over you?"

I looked at him, and the whole situation suddenly struck me as hilarious.

Three years had passed, and he still didn't understand a thing.

The humiliation of the engagement ceremony had cut deep, but what had truly shattered my heart was his betrayal and his distrust.

After his brother's death, his concern for Giuliana had bled far beyond a Don's duty to a fallen Soldato's widow. He saw only her grief, never the web of lies she spun to frame me, never questioning the "evidence" she fabricated.

And, of course, he had no idea that the cruelties I endured at the estate were all carried out under Giuliana's private orders.

"Forget it," I said, shaking my head. "It's pointless talking to you."

"See? Another childish tantrum," Giuliana snipped. Then she deliberately lifted her wrist. "Chiara, what do you think of this bracelet? It's a custom diamond piece. Only three in the world."

Her eyes gleamed with pride, searching my face for a flicker of jealousy.

I gave her a cold glance.

"Then you'd better cherish it. It's probably worth more than you are."

"Although..."

I paused, raking my eyes over her with disdain.

"On you, it just looks cheap."

"You!"

Her face flushed with anger, but with Angelo there, she couldn't lash out.

So, she turned to him with red-rimmed eyes, pretending to be dizzy.

"You... how could you say that?" She clutched her chest, her body starting to sway. "I... I don't feel so well..."

Same old act.

"Giuliana!" Angelo immediately steadied her. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing... It's just... Chiara's malice is too much..." she said weakly. "My heart... it can't take it..."

Angelo whipped his head toward me, his eyes burning with fury.

"Enough, Chiara! You always do this! Do you have to push her into a heart attack to be satisfied?"

"I didn't do anything."

"Your presence alone is poison to her!" he roared. "Her heart problems started three years ago because of you!"

I took a deep breath.

This sickening duo hadn't changed a bit. One feigning fragility, the other playing the protector.

"Chiara, I'm done talking to you," Angelo said, holding Giuliana tighter. "Since you're so determined to run your mouth, fine. You can come in. But I'm warning you, Chiara. If you cause trouble in front of Don Castiglione, I can't save you."

He started walking, urging me to follow.

His hand on my wrist was an iron clamp.

I cried out in pain.

"Let go of me!"

As I struggled, a platinum watch fell from my sleeve, hitting the marble floor with a crisp clatter.

Giuliana's eyes darted to the ground. She snatched the watch, examined it, and then shrieked:

"The Castiglione family sigil! What are you doing with it?"