"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?"