Roxie Monroe, the mistress of my boyfriend of three years, Donovan Kincaid, posted a photo on social media.

The caption read: "What does it matter if you're my Capo during the day? At night, you're still mine!"

In the photo, she was straddling Donovan's bare body. The Valeriano family crest he’d tattooed on his chest for me was now twisted and warped into Roxie's name.

Just this morning, I had asked Donovan to take me to his family's dinner party.

He took the limited-edition antique gun I gave him but kicked over my easel, splattering paint everywhere.

His face was a mask of pure contempt as he declared, "Take a good look at yourself. Some nobody with no connections, you're not even fit to polish my shoes. Look at how pathetically you cling to me!"

For three years, I had silently endured his insistence that we keep our relationship a secret—a measure he claimed was to protect me, an "outsider." But in that moment, the truth hit me: it had all been an absurd lie.

In that moment of clarity, I sent a message to my father: "Papa, I'm done playing. I'm coming home."

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1

The moment I confirmed the corrupted tattoo in the photo had once been for me, I sent a bottle of the most expensive champagne to Donovan’s family-run club.

The attached note read: "To Mr. Kincaid and Miss Monroe. A match made in filth. May you be chained together for eternity."

A few minutes later, Roxie replied, claiming it was just a kinky game, part of a dare between them.

Donovan, who had been missing all night, finally called.

"Are you fucking insane? What the hell were you thinking, sending that to my family's place? Show some goddamn class. Why are you so damn jealous? Can't you live without a man?"

Before I could respond, Donovan added contemptuously, "What are you good for besides causing trouble? Crawl back to that hovel you call a studio."

Even though I’d anticipated his anger, hearing him threaten me made a shard of ice pierce my heart.

It was disgusting. A wave of intense nausea surged in my throat.

I trembled at the thought that just this morning, I was fantasizing about him finally going public with our relationship.

"Donnie, it's my fault, alright," I said with a cold laugh. "I'll go find your 'innocent' Roxie and clear things up right now!"

"No! You're not going anywhere!" Donovan snapped. Though he sounded furious, he couldn't hide his concern for the other woman. "It's late. It's not safe for you to be out alone!"

He turned his attention back to me, his voice a furious snarl. "Listen to me, Scarlett. Don't push me! Do you really think I can't deal with you?"

Before I could even get a word in, I heard Roxie's sobs on the other end of the line.

"Donnie, even if I have to crawl, I'm crawling over there right now. Don't you dare try to stop me. I won't let anyone spread rumors about you!" Roxie declared.

"Why are you bothering with that psycho? I'll make her disappear right now!" Donovan replied. "Roxie, you just stay put. As long as I'm the Capo here, no one can lay a finger on you."

After that, he hung up on me without a second thought.

I messaged him less than five seconds after he hung up to say I wanted to break up. He never replied.

Well, that wasn't surprising. If he didn't need anything from me, he would simply ghost me.

Two hours later, the safe house was empty. I had erased every trace of myself.

Everything in this house, from the most inconspicuous antique ashtray to the massive canvas in the living room, had been arranged by me personally.

I had even prepared a surprise for Donovan—I had bought the house, intending to give him the deed.

Now, I was just glad I had never told him.

Just then, my phone buzzed.

"Don't worry, Scarlett. Donnie and I are innocent. I've always looked up to him, like an older brother. I've never had any improper thoughts about him."

As if afraid I wouldn't believe her, Roxie even sent two videos. The first showed Donovan licking a wound on her knee; the second showed him holding her, murmuring affectionately.

In the past, I never dared to respond to such provocations. After all, I was always the one who ended up backing down, trying to win Donovan back.

Three years was long enough to exhaust the fiery, youthful passion that once drove me to chase love without a thought for the consequences.

Looking at it now, all my silent endurance had been for nothing.

"Are you begging for a beating? Sending me this just to get a rise out of me? Or do you just want me to blow up your phone so you can shove the vibrating thing in your needy little body and get off on it?"

I immediately saw the notification indicating that Roxie was typing.

"Oh, look. You must be trembling with rage right now."

After sending that, I blocked and deleted Roxie's number.

That night, I didn't sleep a wink. I waited until dawn before calling my father.

"Papa, I'm done playing. I'm coming home."

My father sent back a string of jubilant emojis, then called. "Are you sure, my Principessa? You're not pulling my leg, are you?"

"No, I'm not lying," I replied, a wry smile twisting my lips.

My father laughed heartily. "Ha! It looks like I just won my five-million-dollar bet with that old geezer!"

I felt a lump form in my throat.

My father's tone turned to ice. "You should have come back sooner! Then none of this would have happened. You can have any man you want! I really don't understand what you saw in that kid from the Kincaid family. I'll send my men to crush the Kincaids right now and let you blow off some steam. Anyone who dares touch the Principessa of the Valeriano family has a death wish!"

"No need, Papa. I want to handle this myself. Let me do it."

My father paused for a moment, then sighed. "Ah, you. No matter what, remember the family will always have your back."

After hanging up, I took a deep breath and prepared to leave the safe house. To my surprise, I ran right into Roxie and Donovan.

"What? Are you satisfied now?" Donovan snapped, rushing towards me and stomping hard on the leg that had been injured when I took a knife for him. He used so much force I had to bite my lip to keep from crying out. My vision swam.

The day I met Donovan, a surprise attack from a rival family had nearly cost him his life. The streets were slick with blood.

In an attempt to block a knife for him, I ended up with a deep gash on my leg, a wound that still aches to this day.

Donovan was taken aback and paused, but after a glance over his shoulder, the flicker of guilt in his eyes vanished.

"Apologize to Roxie," Donovan demanded. "If it weren't for you, she wouldn't have rushed over here and gotten hassled."

I looked at the seemingly unscathed Roxie standing behind him. There wasn't a scratch on her.

"I'm telling you, those bastards almost got their hands on her! Thank God she's alright, or I'd never forgive you!"

Donovan continued to roar, looking at me as if I had murdered his entire family.

"You'd better say what I want to hear, Scarlett, or I'll wipe a third-rate artist like you off the map! You're nothing, so know your place. A small fry like you can't touch me."

Roxie wrapped her arms around Donovan from behind and shook her head. "Donnie, Scarlett is just a third-rate artist. As the bigger person, I shouldn't stoop to her level. Let's just drop it."

"What did you just call me?"

I clenched my fists, restraining the urge to slap them both. For three years, Roxie had been a fly buzzing in my ear, filling my life with her incessant drone. "I am so fucking done with you, Roxie."

In an instant, the sharp crack of a slap echoed through the air. Donovan's face went white with rage, his hands trembling as he roared, "I told you to apologize!"

My cheek stung. I tasted blood.

Roxie's lips curled into a triumphant smile.

Anger, humiliation, and helplessness churned inside me.

"Is it that hard to apologize, Scarlett? You're the one in the wrong!" Donovan roared, then grabbed my right hand—my painting hand—and slammed it against the wall.

"You should be grateful Roxie didn't make you kneel and beg! And you still have the nerve to make a fuss? Who the hell do you think you are?"

To think that just a few days ago, I had been crying and begging for his forgiveness.

But now, I was done. All I wanted was to get away from him, as fast as possible. Even arguing felt beneath me.

"If you walk out that door, Scarlett, we're through!"

When Donovan saw I wouldn't back down, a flicker of panic, almost imperceptible, crossed his eyes.

"So be it," I replied with a nod. I calmly limped out of the safe house.

What a waste of three years.

Suddenly, I felt a huge push from behind as Roxie lunged forward with a scream. Donovan instinctively shoved me hard, sending me tumbling down the stairs. I threw out my right hand to break my fall.

A sharp pain lanced through my body. I instinctively pulled my hand back, only to see my wrist twisted at a sickening angle, the bone piercing through the skin.

By the time I realized what had happened, I had already hit the bottom of the stairs. My head slammed against the hard ground, and blood blurred my vision.

Meanwhile, Donovan, my supposed boyfriend, was anxiously shielding Roxie.

He showed no concern for me at all. Instead, his expression screamed that I deserved it.

He pulled Roxie back into the house and snarled at my prone form, lying in a pool of my own blood, "Serves you right! You can kneel there and think about who you are! Don't get up until you figure it out!"

The pain drained all my strength. All I could do was lie there, a crumpled heap on the floor. By the time my family found me and rushed me to the hospital, the window for the best surgical outcome had closed.

My right hand was everything to me as an artist. Now, all I could do was watch as the surgeons drilled steel pins into it, one by one.

Despair consumed me.

Three days later, Donovan posted on social media. In the photo, he and Roxie were in a tight embrace—he, wearing the bespoke suit I had personally chosen for him, and she, in a dress tailored to my exact measurements, making her look like a clown in her mother's clothes.

Less than two minutes after the photo went up, Donovan called.

"Have you calmed down? It's Roxie's celebration party today. She wants to clear the air with you. Don't forget to bring her a big gift."

His tone was so cheerful, as if nothing had ever happened, but the excruciating pain in my hand was a constant, throbbing reminder of his cruelty.

"Alright."

A big gift, he said...

For the past three years, I hadn't touched a cent of my family's money. I'd managed to save some money from selling my paintings, but I had blown most of it on that antique gun, all to please Donovan.

After my surgery, my bank account was nearly empty.

Roxie wanted a big gift? Fine. I wonder if making her lose everything she has counts.

By the time I had everything arranged, it was time for the party.

Donovan stood at the entrance with his arm around Roxie, the two of them looking like a picture-perfect couple.

When they saw me, they immediately clasped their hands together, fingers intertwined.

"Scarlett, you dare show up empty-handed?" Donovan questioned, his face dark. "I didn't think you could be so shameless. Look at the rags you're wearing! And you're covered in bandages, it's disgusting! You're just here to embarrass me, aren't you?"

Roxie could no longer hide the glee in her eyes. She bit back a laugh and shook her head. "Let it go, Donnie. As long as she came, that's enough. Besides, as long as I have you, I don't need any gifts."

"However... I do have a surprise for you..."

At the mention of this, Roxie’s hand drifted to her abdomen. The gesture alone made my breath catch. I tightened my grip on my phone.

Despite being with me for years, Donovan had never been truly intimate with me. Even when I tried my best to seduce him, he would stubbornly opt for a cold shower instead.

Later, I learned why. He said his first time was important, and he couldn't give it to a woman of unknown origins like me.

Meanwhile, the Kincaid family members present began to cheer. Only then did I realize that Donovan's parents, Finnian Kincaid and Moira Connolly, along with his younger brother, Shane, were also there.

"Donnie, even though it's my party, it means nothing without you," Roxie said. "I know you're not interested in marriage, but I worry you'll be lonely when you get older, so... I secretly decided to have your baby."

She slowly lifted her eyes, her gaze full of what she probably thought was sincere devotion.

"The baby has been with me for over two months now. I think it's a girl. She'll be beautiful. She'll look just like you."

I froze, my mind a complete blank. My mother had passed away long ago, and her death anniversary was always a difficult time for me. Two months ago, Donovan had stayed by my side through it all.

But as it turned out, he was with me during the day and in Roxie's bed at night.

I had thought it was a sign of his genuine care. In reality, he was just assuaging his own guilt after cheating.

Finnian and Moira were the first to applaud and offer their congratulations.

Some guests couldn't help but whisper among themselves. Donovan had a reputation for being cold and ruthless. He forbade his soldati from getting involved with outsiders, and the last associate who tried to hide something from him had been dealt with personally.

But now, he just patted Roxie's back comfortingly and said, "In that case, I'll remove Scarlett from my world. After all, she was the one who seduced me first and shamelessly clung to me. A woman like her is a disgrace."

Immediately, all eyes turned to me, filled with a mix of curiosity and amusement. They all knew I had just been brazenly humiliated.

"Are you finished?"

To everyone's surprise, after Donovan's grand declaration, I just smiled faintly.

"I suppose it's time for my congratulatory gift."

I clapped my hands, and a large group of armed police swarmed in, flooding the already cramped space.

The chief in charge, Gideon Blackwood, greeted me politely. "Principessa Valeriano."