On the night my new gallery opened, our security expert, Rhys Donovan, rolled up his sleeves. Beads of sweat glistened on the sharp lines of his forearms as he leaned in, his voice a low rumble. "Ready, Scarlett?"

I stared at the corded muscle beneath his suit, my mind a total blank. "What?"

His hot breath ghosted across my ear. "I said. Are. You. Ready?"

My voice was a shaky whisper. "I thought… we agreed to take things slow?"

That night, champagne-hued moonlight spilled through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting our tangled shadows on the floor until the first light of dawn.

Meanwhile, my ex-husband, Julian Valachi—the Underboss of Chicago's Valachi crime family—knelt in the torrential rain outside. Soaked to the bone, a pathetic, sodden mess. I couldn't even be bothered to spare him a glance.

Julian thought he had masterfully broken our stalemate when he begged me to agree to a symbolic engagement party with Isabella, the daughter of the allied Rossi family. His excuse? His mother Carmela's recurring heart condition.

"It's just for the alliance," he had pleaded. "The party is a formality, a show. I swear, once the dust settles, we'll go right back to how we were."

I remained silent, my eyes glued to the seven-day countdown on my phone for our marriage annulment, ticking down to the second I would reclaim my freedom. He never knew that the moment his deception guided my hand to sign that paper, our marriage—and my heart—had already been reduced to ash.

————————

1

A soul-crushing exhaustion washed over Scarlett Dubois as Carmela Valachi—the family's Madre—shattered their wedding photo for the ninth time that year.

She stared down at the glittering shards of glass at her feet, still slick with the scalding soup Carmela had just hurled at her.

Every time the Madre threw one of her tantrums, their wedding photo was always the first casualty.

"What are you looking at?" Carmela shrieked from her opulent sickbed, her voice as sharp as the glass on the floor. "If it weren't for you—you worthless outsider—do you think assassins would have gotten to me? Do you think I'd be trapped in this bed?"

Scarlett silently crouched to pick up the pieces, the sharp edges digging into her fingertips.

Without a word, she began dabbing at the soup staining the silk of her dress.

"Stop playing the victim!" Carmela snatched a crystal glass from her bedside table, her arm cocked to throw. "Get out! The sight of you makes my stomach turn!"

The glass whizzed past Scarlett's ear, exploding against the silk wallpaper in a spray of a thousand glittering fragments.

She walked slowly from the room, gently pulling the heavy oak door closed behind her. Leaning against the cool wall of the silent manor hallway, she took a deep, shuddering breath.

The cloying scent of expensive aromatherapy stung her nostrils, a bitter reminder of the two years she had spent suffocating in this gilded cage.

She pulled out her phone and sent a message to Julian: [Jules, maybe we should hire a full-time nurse for Mamma? She’s having a terrible day…]

The message receipt immediately showed "Read," but no reply came.

Scarlett stared at the screen for a full ten minutes before her thumb finally locked it. She decided to go to the family lawyer and retrieve the marriage certificate they had been holding from her.

The law firm was nearly deserted. Scarlett stated her purpose to an assistant, who frowned after a moment of typing.

"Ms. Dubois, the annulment of your marriage to Mr. Valachi is scheduled to become official at the family meeting in seven days. The document cannot be released to you at this time."

"What annulment agreement?" Scarlett thought she must have misheard.

The assistant turned the monitor toward her. "The system indicates Mr. Valachi submitted the application. It is currently in process."

Scarlett’s fingers gripped the marble countertop so hard her knuckles turned bone-white.

She suddenly remembered a document Julian had pushed in front of her a few weeks ago, claiming it was for a family asset transfer. She'd been in a rush to tend to Carmela and had signed it without a second thought.

The assistant offered a sympathetic look. "Would you like to file a motion to withdraw the application?"

Whispers rippled through the waiting area. "Isn't that the Valachi girl? The one holding Julian back, they say."

"That's her. If it wasn't for her, the Madre never would have gotten hit so bad in that attack two years ago."

Scarlett lowered her gaze to the wedding band on her finger, a feeling like her heart was being flayed alive spreading through her chest.

"No, that's alright. I'll receive a confirmation letter in seven days, correct?" Scarlett asked, her voice barely audible.

After receiving a quiet affirmation, Scarlett fled the office. She stepped out into the scorching sunlight but felt a chill that pierced her straight to the bone.

She called a car service to take her back to the manor. On the way, Julian finally texted back: [Tied up in family business. We'll talk tonight.]

She opened the chat window again and again, the urge to scream at him a physical ache in her throat, but her fingers typed nothing.

The manor’s hallway was eerily quiet. As she neared her mother-in-law's room, she heard peals of laughter from within.

She gently pushed the door open a crack and froze at the scene before her.

Carmela was on her feet by the window, hale and hearty, nibbling on fruit with a silver fork.

Isabella, the Principessa of the Rossi family, sat beside her peeling an apple, while Julian—who claimed to be swamped with business—was gently massaging Carmela's shoulders.

"That little act with my heart was a stroke of genius," Carmela gloated. "The girl never suspected I've been perfectly fine all along."

"Mamma, don't say that," Isabella cooed. "It wasn't easy for Scarlett, taking care of you all this time."

Carmela snorted. "She owes me! If not for her carelessness, her failure to have my car checked, would I have nearly died in that hit from our rivals?"

Scarlett's hands gripped the doorframe, knuckles white. She looked at Julian, who wore a conflicted expression but said nothing to defend her.

"The annulment is signed, so why hasn't she scrammed yet?" Carmela demanded suddenly.

Julian replied in a low voice, "The process is still finalizing, and besides..."

"Besides what?" Carmela cut him off sharply. "Don't tell me you've gone soft on her. A woman from nothing—how can she possibly hold a candle to our Isabella?"

"Mamma!" Julian's voice rose an octave. "I have this handled. Stay out of it."

Carmela waved a dismissive hand. "Fine, fine, have it your way. The papers are signed. If she wants to play the maid for free, then let her."

Scarlett slowly backed away, tears blurring her vision.

So, she was the last to know her marriage was being voided.

She turned and fled, the sound of their laughter a cruel, echoing knife in her back.

Scarlett stood by a window and pulled out her phone, dialing a number she hadn't called in a very long time.

"Sloane, it's me." Her voice was unnervingly calm. "Please, I need your help to get out of here. The sooner, the better."

There was a beat of silence on the other end. "Are you sure? Have you thought this through?"

"Yes." Scarlett watched the sycamore leaves dance in the wind outside. "It's been two years. My debt to the Valachi family is paid in full."

She hung up and took one last, long look at Carmela's room.

The laughter continued, filled with a warmth and joy she had never been allowed to share. They were a family.

And Scarlett had never truly been one of them.

Scarlett didn't return to Carmela's room. She took a cab straight to the wing of the manor she shared with Julian.

When Julian pushed open the door that evening, Scarlett had just finished packing a suitcase she kept hidden in the back of her closet.

She didn't look up. "Mamma smashed three more of your mother's porcelain figurines today. She said I'm not nearly as considerate as Isabella."

Julian loosened his tie, his voice edged with impatience. "Her heart's been weak for two years, of course she's irritable. Just humor her. What's the big deal?"

"Humor her?" Scarlett let out a sharp, humorless laugh. She held up the dress that had been stained that morning. "She did this deliberately."

"That's enough!" Julian snatched the dress from her and tossed it onto the bed. "Scarlett, you never used to be like this!"

"Like what?" Scarlett shot to her feet, her eyes blazing. "Like waking up at five every morning to prepare her special low-sodium breakfast? Or like kneeling on the floor to scrub the carpet clean while she screams that I'm a curse on this family?"

Julian swallowed hard, turning his face away. "You know why Mamma's heart is the way it is."

A dead, heavy silence filled the room.

Scarlett's fingernails dug into her palms.

That assassination.

Two years ago, on the night they had just shared a rare, intimate moment, Carmela had called, claiming something felt wrong with her car.

"Ignore her," Scarlett had murmured, standing barefoot on the carpet, her arms wrapped around his waist. "Tonight is our anniversary..."

Julian hesitated, then bent to kiss her. "Just a minute."

"You always say that!" Scarlett said sharply, snatching the phone and throwing it to the floor. "How many times has she cried wolf? If you go running to her tonight, we are over!"

She remembered the look in his eyes then. Shock, helplessness, and finally, weary compromise.

He sighed, retrieving the phone only to set it aside. Then he pulled her into his arms. "Okay, I'll stay."

But the next day, the truth came crashing down. Because no one had inspected the car, the window to thwart the assassination attempt was lost. The attack by their rivals left Carmela with "severe heart damage."

"Yes, I owe her," Scarlett admitted, her voice hoarse. "So for two years, I have served her like a goddamn slave. But does that mean I deserve to have hot soup thrown at me? To be treated like Isabella's personal maid?"

Julian ran a hand through his hair, a mask of frustration on his face. "Isabella is moving in tomorrow."

"What?"

"Mamma likes having her around." Julian's tone softened, as if he were coaxing a child. "It's just for a few months. Once her condition stabilizes, Isabella will leave."

Scarlett cut him off, her voice quiet. "Julian, I went to see the family lawyer today."

His entire body went rigid.

"The lawyer told me our marriage is being annulled. It's final in seven days." She watched his expression tighten. "The document you had me sign last month... was that the annulment agreement?"

"So you know." Julian grabbed her wrist. "But Mamma forced my hand. I was just trying to appease her!"

"Couldn't you have told me?" Scarlett ripped her hand free. "After two years of marriage, I don't even have the right to know?"

Julian exploded. "Can you stop being so damn aggressive? Do you have any idea how hard this is for me, being caught in the middle of this?"

Scarlett froze.

She remembered the first time he brought her home. His mother had flung a glass of red wine on her, right in front of him. "The matriarch of the Valachi family will always be a high-born Principessa."

That night, Julian had held her on the balcony, his voice full of apologies. "My Mamma has a temper, please, just bear with her. It's so hard for me, being stuck in the middle."

When Carmela refused to attend their wedding, he held her hand and pleaded, "She just can't accept it yet. Give her time."

When Carmela suffered her "heart damage," he had knelt before her, begging her to quit her job as an art restorer to care for his mother. "Scarlett, you're the only one who can help me."

And every single time, she had been the one to compromise.

"Julian," Scarlett felt a tidal wave of exhaustion wash over her. "Do you still love me?"

Julian hesitated for a fraction of a second, then blurted, "Of course I do!"

"Scarlett, don't make this any harder for me."

She sighed. Just seven more days. She could let him have this.

She gave a silent, weary nod.

"Isabella will be in the guest room," Julian said, awkwardly changing the subject. "You should get some rest."

The moment the door clicked shut, Scarlett collapsed onto the bed.

Moonlight filtered through the curtains, illuminating a dusty photo frame on the nightstand.

In the picture, Julian was giving her a piggyback ride on a beach in Sicily. The waves had soaked her dress, and he had turned his head, his smile radiant. "Hold on tight, Mrs. Valachi!"

Two years of love felt as fleeting and unreal as a dream.

She took out her phone and sent a message: [Pick me up in seven days. The plan is on.]

Just as she hit send, a commotion erupted from downstairs.

Scarlett went downstairs to find Carmela being wheeled in by Isabella. A group of Soldato followed, carrying an array of expensive luggage.

"Well, look what the cat dragged in," Carmela drawled, her eyes half-lidded as she shot Scarlett a frosty look. "I was beginning to think you planned to rot in your wing of the house forever."

Isabella stood beside her, holding a cup of steaming herbal tea. "Mamma just had a check-up," she said sweetly. "The doctor said she needs to move around more."

"A check-up?" Scarlett's gaze dropped to her mother-in-law's legs.

Carmela patted her own knee smugly. "Surprised? The doctor says my recovery is marvelous. I'll be back on my feet in no time."

She gestured upstairs. "Isabella is staying here from now on to look after me. I don't give a damn if you agree or not."

Scarlett said nothing, a faint, unreadable smile playing on her lips as she looked at Julian.

He pursed his lips and muttered, "Scarlett has already agreed."

Carmela looked surprised for a moment, then snorted. "So she's finally learned her place."

Isabella beamed, immediately linking her arm with Carmela's.

"Mamma, I'll go get my things settled, then."

Carmela patted her hand affectionately. "Go on, sweetheart. Pick any room you like."

Isabella's eyes lit up. She hurried upstairs, and a moment later, a loud crash echoed from the upper floor.

Scarlett looked up to see Isabella directing a maid to take down a large oil painting from the hallway wall.

She and Julian had bought that painting together at an auction. It depicted the Tuscan landscape where they'd had their first date.

"This painting is so dated. It completely clashes with the manor's aesthetic," Isabella scoffed with a dismissive wave, ordering the maid to toss it aside. Then, she pointed to the framed photos on the wall. "And take these down. They’re hideous."

One by one, the photos came down, their wedding picture among them.

Julian stood at the top of the stairs, frowning, looking like he wanted to intervene. But in the end, he just glanced at Scarlett. "Let them. We can hang them back up later."

Scarlett smiled, a hollow, empty gesture.

Isabella poked her head out from an upstairs doorway, her voice dripping with saccharine sweetness. "Jules, I want the master bedroom! It's closer to Mamma's room, so it'll be so much easier to take care of her."

Carmela immediately nodded in approval. "Yes, yes, you're so thoughtful, my dear."

Julian instinctively looked at Scarlett, as if bracing for an argument.

But Scarlett just nodded calmly. "Fine. I'll move my things to the guest room."

She turned to head upstairs. Julian grabbed her wrist. "Something's not right with you."

Scarlett looked back at him. "What's not right? Isn't this exactly what you wanted?"

"But you..." Julian's brow furrowed in confusion. "You never used to be like this."

"'What I used to be'?" Scarlett let out a bitter laugh. "Isn't 'this' precisely what you and your mother have been demanding?"

She shook his hand off and walked straight into the master bedroom to begin packing.

Julian followed her in, leaning against the doorframe, watching as she methodically folded her clothes and placed them in a suitcase. Finally, he couldn't stand it anymore.

"What has gotten into you?"

Scarlett looked up. "I'm making room for the two of you."

Julian swallowed hard, but said nothing.

At seven that evening, Scarlett went downstairs for dinner.

In the dining room, Carmela, Isabella, and Julian were already seated at the long, food-laden table.

Isabella placed a piece of salmon on Carmela's plate, her eyes crinkling with a smile. "Isabella is so good to me," Carmela cooed.

Julian looked up and saw Scarlett, beckoning to her. "Come on, let's eat."

Scarlett walked over and took a seat. Her eyes swept across the table and then stopped dead.

Every single dish was garnished with crushed nuts.

Almonds, walnuts, peanuts... every last one of them an ingredient she was severely, fatally allergic to.