The shears hit the dirt at his feet, spraying soil and petals over his expensive shoes.

He flinched, but the smirk never left his face.

"There's that fire." He brushed an imaginary speck of dust from his lapel. "God, I missed this."

Old days?

I wanted to throw every pair of shears in this garden at his head.

"This is what I miss—your spark." He stepped toward me. "Tiffany is so boring. A doll. But you—"

"Enough."

"You're jealous of her, aren't you?" Julian's gaze softened. "You don't need to be. You know your place in my heart."

He pulled a velvet box from his pocket.

"This is for you."

I didn't take it.

Julian opened it himself. A diamond necklace glittered inside, blinding me.

"Limited edition Harry Winston," he said proudly. "Only three in the world."

"Take it away."

"Sera, stop being childish." A hint of annoyance crept into his voice. "I know you're upset, but we're adults now. I will make everyone happy, trust me."

I turned my back on him. And walked away.

"I'll send a car for you in a week!" he yelled after me. "Don't keep me waiting!"

I slammed the door.

Bastard.

The next day, I sent the necklace to the biggest charity auction in Chicago.

"List the donation under the Moretti family," I told the manager.

The man's face went white.

"The, uh... M-Moretti family?"

"That's the one," I smiled sweetly. "And make sure the story gets out. Someone tried to put a price on the Don's wife. In our world, that mistake gets you a one-way ticket to the bottom of Lake Michigan."

The manager nodded frantically, sweat dripping onto the auction list.

A week later, at the opera.

I was in Dante's private box, watching the second act of La Traviata.

On stage, the soprano was singing Violetta's aria about love and sacrifice.

Too bad for her. I'd learned my lesson about sacrifice. I wasn't making that mistake again.

During intermission, I got up to use the restroom.

The moment I stepped out of the box, I heard a familiar voice.

"Sera?"

I turned.

Julian was standing in the corridor, dressed to the nines, with a blonde on his arm.

Tiffany Vanderbilt.

She was even prettier in person.

Pearl earrings, an emerald necklace. She looked like a perfect Barbie doll.

"What a coincidence." That arrogant smile spread across Julian's face again. "You're here for the opera, too?"

"Yes."

"Sera, you shouldn't have," he whispered, a flicker of excitement in his eyes. "Following me? It's a little desperate. A bad look for you."

Following him?

I almost laughed.

"Well, since we're here—" Julian turned to the woman beside him. "Tiffany, this is Seraphina. An old friend of mine."

Old friend?

Tiffany extended a delicate, manicured hand. "A pleasure. Julian has told me so much about you."

"Has he now?"

"Oh, yes," Tiffany's smile was pure ice. "All about your... history together. Such a sweet friendship."

Friendship.

Julian cleared his throat. "Since you've met, maybe you two should get acquainted. After all, soon—"

"Soon what?" I cut him off.

"Soon we'll all be family," Tiffany chirped. Her voice was pure poison, coated in sugar. "I'm about to be Mrs. Astor. As Julian's old friend, that makes you a friend of the family."

Mrs. Astor.

She stressed the name, staking her claim.

"What a lovely picture," I said with a smile. "But I think—"

"You think what?" Tiffany tilted her head like a curious little bird.

I glanced at my guards.

"Shut her up."

They moved as one.

Tiffany's face went white. She scrambled behind Julian.

"Sera!" Julian snapped. "What are you doing?"

"Just kidding." I waved a hand, and the guards stepped back.

Julian's face was tight with anger as he shielded Tiffany.

"You're still a savage, Sera," he hissed, his tone dripping with condescension. "No manners. No class. When will you ever learn?"

Tiffany put a hand to her chest. A perfect picture of shock.

"Oh, Julian, I'm sure Seraphina was just joking." Her voice trembled, but her eyes were sizing me up. "Right, darling?"

She took a step closer, a perfect socialite smile plastered on her face.

"I've actually been wanting to meet you. Julian said you have a lot of… personality."

Personality.

Another one of those condescending words.

"But—" Tiffany paused, her gaze sweeping over my entire outfit. "I think we could be great friends."

She unclasped a diamond bracelet from her own wrist.

"Here. A little gift." She held it out. "It's Tiffany & Co. Limited edition. Much more appropriate for the setting, don't you think?"

Appropriate for the setting?

I glanced down at my black silk gown. The cut was perfect.

But she wasn't looking at my dress.

Her eyes were locked on the simple silver chain around my wrist.

"I just think you might need something... a little more sparkly," Tiffany's smile grew sweeter. "This is the opera, after all. Everyone dresses up."

More sparkly.

She was saying I looked cheap.

"She has a point," Julian added, his eyes narrowing. "That piece of junk is beneath you."

Junk?

My blood ran cold.

What did he just say?

My breath caught. That "junk" was forged from a bullet casing. The first life Dante ever took to protect his family—to protect me. Engraved on the inside were two words: Mio Angelo.

My Angel.

"Just take her gift," Julian said, reaching for my wrist. "This cheap trinket doesn't belong on you."

"Don't touch it." I stepped back.

"Sera, stop being so stubborn." His tone was impatient. "I know money is tight for you right now, but that's no excuse. You can't wear trash like this to a formal event."

Trash?

"Here, let me help you."

He reached out again, grabbing my wrist.

"Let go of me!"

"It'll just take a second." Julian yanked hard at the silver bracelet. "You'll like the diamonds, trust me."

"I said, let go!"

The clasp snapped.

It fell to the marble floor with a faint clink.

He didn't even look down. He just stepped on it.

A sharp crack echoed on the marble floor. A sound that broke something deep inside me.

The entire hallway went still.

I knelt and picked up the mangled bracelet.

The clasp was broken, the chain twisted. The Italian words were now a blur.

"Look at you, getting all worked up," Julian said, dismissing it. "It's just a cheap bracelet. I'll buy you something better."

I slowly stood up.

Julian was adjusting his cufflinks, completely oblivious to the murder in my eyes.

"Speaking of which," he said, his eyes flashing with a sudden, ugly jealousy. "Who's the poor bastard who gave you this trash? Your new boyfriend?"

New boyfriend.

"Don't tell me you downgraded to one of your father's bodyguards," Julian sneered. "Sera, when did your standards drop so low?"

Little bodyguard.

"Or—" his voice turned venomous. "Have you really fallen that far?"

Tiffany was beside him, pretending to be concerned. "Julian, don't say that..."

He leaned in, his voice a low, venomous growl. "So tell me, Seraphina. Who is the fucking nobody who gave you this piece of trash?"

I clutched the mangled bracelet in my fist.

I looked him dead in the eye. "My husband gave it to me."

My. Husband.

Those two words made Julian's face turn to stone.

"Your… husband?" he repeated, like he couldn't process the word.

"That's right."

Julian staggered back a step, his eyes wide with disbelief.

"You… you're with another man? You got married?"

"Is that so strange?"

"Of course it's strange!" Julian exploded, his voice echoing down the hall. "Two years! It's only been two years! How could you move on so fast—"

He stopped, taking a deep breath.

"Wait." Julian pulled out his phone. "Marcus," he barked into his phone. "Run a name for me. Angelo. An Italian. Find out who the hell he is."

He stepped away to make the call, his voice low.

A few minutes later, Julian hung up, his face even darker.

"Angelo?" He strode back, his eyes burning with rage. "Your new man's name is Angelo?"

I didn't correct him.

"A damn Italian bodyguard!" Julian spat. "You left me for a fucking bodyguard?"

Bodyguard.

If only he knew.

"Can he buy you diamonds?" Julian pointed at the broken bracelet in my hand. "Can he give you a Manhattan penthouse? Can he give you the life you deserve?"

"He gives me more than that."

"More?" Julian sneered. "What can some hired muscle give you? A cheap bracelet? A used car? A shitty little apartment in the suburbs?"

He was getting more and more agitated, spit flying from his mouth.

"Do you really think a man like that would marry you?" Julian's voice grew shrill. "He's just using you! When he gets tired of you, where will you go?"

"Julian, that's enough," Tiffany whispered, though her eyes were alight with excitement.

"It's not enough!" Julian whirled on her. "Do you see what she's doing? She's degrading herself!"

He turned back to me, roaring.

"I offered you the best life, the best future, and you chose a goddamn bodyguard!"

"Yes," I said calmly. "I chose him."

"Why?!" Julian screamed. "Why would you choose some lowlife—"

"Because he's twice the man you'll ever be."

The words hit him like a physical blow.

His face twisted into an ugly mask.

"You… you slept with him?"

I nodded.

"Of course. I told you, he's my husband."

Julian swayed on his feet, as if I'd punched him in the gut.

"How could you…" his voice trembled. "How could you let some low-class animal touch you?"

"Watch your mouth."

"I'll kill him!" Julian suddenly roared, his eyes bloodshot. "I'm going to find this Angelo, and I'm going to kill him with my own hands!"

"And then what?"

"Then?" Julian gasped for air. "Then I'll make you understand what a huge mistake you've made!"

He began pacing the hall like a caged animal.

"But for now—" he stopped, his eyes turning to ice. "Now, things have changed."

"What do you mean?"

"That Manhattan penthouse? Gone," Julian sneered. "You don't deserve it anymore."

"I never needed it."

"But I have another place for you. A quiet house outside the city." His voice dripped with malice. "No one will ever find you there."

A quiet house?

"Of course, to avoid any unnecessary trouble—" Julian straightened his tie. "You'll need to use the back entrance. You can't be seen. Understand?"

The back entrance.

He wanted me to sneak in through the back door.

Like a dirty secret.

He didn't even look at me. "My driver will pick you up next week." He turned to leave. "And, Sera? Use the back door. Remember your place."