I once thought I had the most dangerous yet the most perfect love in the whole world.

My lover, Dante Costello, is the Underboss of the Costello family. He carries himself with grace and nobility. Everyone fears and respects him, yet he only shows his gentle side to me.

I used to think that the man who keeps lurking in the shadows and has once left humiliating marks on me while gazing at me with cold eyes is his brother, Luciano Costello.

Luciano is a Capo who lives in the shadows. He's also a madman whose hands are stained with blood.

Everything changes when I smell the unique scent of gunpowder and blood that only Luciano has from Dante's custom-fitted suit.

Only then do I realize that I have never just belonged to one man all this time.

During the day, Dante plays the role of my perfect lover. He showers me with jewelry and deadly romance.

At night, Luciano transforms into a devil who satisfies his twisted, possessive urges in the roughest way possible.

Both brothers have set up an elaborate trap to lock me up in this gilded cage and admire my struggles from afar.

When I find out about the truth, I don't cry or bleed over it. Instead, I'm filled with eerie calmness.

The brothers want to watch me break down. Instead of doing that, I'll ruin them.

I flutter effortlessly between the brothers, using their only weakness against them. Apparently, both of them think that they are the only hunters in this game.

This time, it's my turn to weave them a trap.

"Chiara, I'm back." Dante Costello pushed the door open, bringing in the sharp chill of snow and wind. He pulled me into his arms.

The familiar scent of cedar wrapped around me in an instant, but I went rigid like stone in his embrace.

Something was wrong. The smell was wrong. Beneath the cool cedar, there was another faint but unmistakable scent of gunpowder and blood.

I shoved him away and lifted my head, staring hard at his face. His face was still the impossibly handsome one I knew—he had a high, straight nose, thin lips, and focused and tender eyes that glinted behind gold-rimmed glasses. He looked every bit the refined scholar, not the Underboss in his mafia family.

"What's wrong, Chiara?" Dante reached out to touch my face, but I turned my head to dodge him.

His hand froze in midair. I got a good look at his long, clean, well-shaped fingers. But on the back of his right hand, near the thumb, there was a fresh, thin wound that had just begun to scab over.

My blood turned to ice in that instant.

Three days ago, Luciano Costello had cornered me at the end of the hallway. He had a face identical to Dante's, but his gaze was sharp and predatory, like a hawk circling for the kill.

He'd grabbed me by the throat and pinned me against the cold wall, his burning body pressed tightly to mine as he asked hoarsely, "Do you like him that much? Chiara, sooner or later, you'll be mine."

I'd struggled, and my nails had raked a deep gash across the back of his hand. He'd acted like he didn't feel a thing, though. He'd just lowered his head, greedily breathing in the scent at my neck. His scorching breath had spilled over my skin, sending a violent shiver through me.

At the time, I'd thought he was just insane. But now, looking at the identical wound on Dante's hand, smelling that faint trace of blood on him… a ridiculous, terrifying thought exploded in my mind.

The man I'd been seeing had never been just one person.

I forced down the storm churning in my chest and managed a smile. "It's nothing. You just… feel a little different today."

Dante's gaze flickered behind his lenses. He adjusted his glasses and leaned down to kiss my forehead. "I just cleaned up a little mess, and I'm exhausted. I'm gonna take a shower."

I watched his back as he walked into the bathroom, then slowly went to sit on the couch. A contract lay on the coffee table.

Three million dollars—that was the massive gambling debt my father had racked up when his business went under. It was money owed to the Costello family.

But Dante had "kindly" paid it off for me, on the condition that I stay by his side and become his woman. He'd said, "Chiara, don't be afraid. You've got me."

In hindsight, that wasn't salvation. That had been a carefully built cage. Dante and Luciano, the two brothers—one had played god for me in the light, and the other had played the devil in the dark. They shared me, like they were toying with a declawed, defanged pet.

The sound of running water came from the bathroom. I took out my phone and dialed a number.

A lazy, teasing voice came through on the other end of the line, "Well, well. Finally remembering me, bella mia?"

It was Leo Caruso. He was one of my former suitors and the heir of another mafia family. He now worked as an information broker.

I got straight to the point. "Leo, I need you to look into two people for me—Dante Costello and Luciano Costello."

Leo went quiet for a moment. "Chiara, did you get mixed up with those two?"

"I want everything you can find on them."

"Fine. But you owe me for this."

"Deal."

I hung up and deleted the call history.

The bathroom door opened. Dante walked out with only a towel around his waist. Water droplets dripped from his hair and onto his toned chest, sliding down and disappearing into the lines of his hips.

He came over, bent down, and braced his hands on either side of me on the couch, caging me in his shadow. "Chiara, who were you on the phone with?"

I lifted my head to meet his searching gaze. I could smell the intoxicating mix of soap and cologne on his skin. I said, "My mom. She was asking when I'm going home."

He stared at me for a few seconds, then smiled. "I'll go back with you in a few days."

He dipped his head, aiming for my lips. At the last second, I turned my face away. "Dante, I'm a little tired."

He stopped, and the air between us turned frigid. After a long moment, he straightened up, saying in an unreadable voice, "Okay. Get some rest."

That night, I didn't sleep at all.

The next day, Leo called. "Che diavolo, Chiara? You're messing with two absolute psychos!"

Leo's voice was heavier than I'd ever heard it.

"The Costello brothers are bad news. Both of them. I'll start with the younger one, Dante. On the surface, he's the family's Underboss, handling all the 'clean' businesses and Whirl Street investments. But in reality, he's the one running their overseas money laundering. He's darker than anyone realizes.

"The older brother, Luciano, is worse. Officially, he's the Capo in Crownpoint, in charge of the docks and smuggling. Behind the scenes, he's brutal. A few years ago, to take over territory, he personally dumped a rival family's Don into the Hatton River."

Leo paused. "This is the most important part. They're not twins, but they look so similar that they might as well be. They've switched identities before. Back in school, Dante took exams for Luciano, and Luciano went out to fight Dante's battles. For them, trading places is as easy as brushing their teeth."

Every word he said hit me like a sledgehammer, but that wasn't the end.

"The three million dollars your father owes was a setup from the start. The whole thing was a trap to get you, to make you the Costello family's property."

I clenched the phone so tightly that my knuckles turned white. So, from the very beginning, I'd been nothing more than a commodity, tagged with a price.

"Chiara, listen to me. Stay away from them. I'll get you out of Monvia," Leo said.

"No." I paused, then continued, "I'm not going anywhere."

After I hung up, I stared at myself in the mirror. My face was pale, but my eyes were unnervingly bright. Dante and Luciano wanted to turn me into a toy, huh? We would see who walked away winning in the end.

That night, "Dante" showed up again. He brought me a necklace.

"Did you have a bad day? Who upset you?" he asked, pinching my cheek, sounding indulgent.

I lowered my gaze, letting a faint, almost unnoticeable tremor creep into my voice. "Dante, I think… I think I saw your brother again a few days ago."

His hand stalled for a second as he fastened the necklace. Then, he smoothly clicked the clasp shut as if nothing had happened. "Don't mind him. He's just a psycho."

I shook my head, and my eyes instantly filled with tears. "He was waiting for me at the estate gates. He said… He said I'll be his sooner or later."

I looked up at him through blurry eyes. "Dante, I'm scared."

"Dante's" expression darkened in an instant. He set the jewelry box down, the atmosphere around him turning so cold it was suffocating. "He wouldn't dare!"

His possessiveness had been lit up with almost no effort. In his eyes, there was a viciousness I'd never seen before. This wasn't the gentle, refined Dante, the Underboss. He was Luciano, the ruthless Capo. While he was pretending to be Dante, he'd let Luciano's emotions slip through.

My heart turned ice-cold.

He pulled out his phone and dialed a number. The call connected almost immediately. "Dante" didn't say a word. He merely held out the phone to me, his eyes telling me what he wanted me to say.

I knew exactly what he was asking. He wanted me to tell "Luciano" myself to stay away. He wanted to savor the sting of his other self being rejected.

It was sick and ridiculous.

I took the phone and held it to my ear, speaking in a small and shaky voice, "H-Hello? Is this Capo Costello?"

There was absolute, dead silence on the other end.

I kept playing along with the script "Dante" wanted. "Please stop harassing me. The man I love is Dante. I'll only ever be with him."

As soon as the words left my mouth, I hurriedly handed the phone back, like it had burned me.

"Dante" smiled, satisfied. He ruffled my hair. "Good job. Don't be scared. You have me."

Right in front of me, he lifted the phone back to his ear and, in a voice that sounded like staking a claim, said, "You heard her. She's mine."

Then, he hung up. He didn't know that, in the split second before the call ended, I formed three silent words while looking at the phone—"I'll be waiting."

In the middle of the night, the faint sound of a door opening woke me. I didn't turn on the light. I just lay quietly in bed, listening to the sound of bare feet on the wool carpet, coming closer and closer. The footsteps stopped beside my bed.

In the darkness, a figure leaned over me, carrying a heavy smell of whiskey and that familiar trace of gunpowder. It was "Dante", or perhaps I should call him by his real name—Luciano.

He had stripped away the identity of "Dante". His scorching gaze roamed over my face like a branding iron, brazen and unrestrained. He thought I was asleep.

He reached out, his fingertips cool and calloused. He lightly traced my cheek and my lips and stopped at my neck. There was a kind of desperation and madness in that touch, full of resentment and possession.

I kept my eyes closed, my body trembling slightly. It wasn't from fear but from excitement. The fish had taken the bait.

Luciano stood by my bed for a long time, so long I almost thought he would stand there until dawn. But in the end, he leaned down and brushed the lightest of kisses against my ear. "Chiara, you can only be mine."

His voice was hoarse, thick with booze and obsession. Then, he turned and left. The door clicked shut.

I opened my eyes. In the dark, the corners of my lips slowly curled upward.

…

The following day, when "Dante" came over, he looked rough. There were faint dark circles under his eyes, and there was a probing look in the way he watched me.

"Did you sleep okay last night?" he asked.

I yawned and rubbed my eyes. "Not really. I had a nightmare."

"What did you dream about?"

I looked at him, my eyes wide, innocent, and confused. "I dreamed about your brother, but it felt like he actually came by and kissed me."

"Dante's" body went rigid, and his eyes behind his glasses narrowed sharply. "Are you sure it was a dream?"

"I guess…" I said, sounding uncertain. "It just felt so real. He reeked of alcohol."

I observed "Dante" closely as I spoke. His jaw was clenched tight, and the hand holding his coffee cup had gone pale at the knuckles from how hard he was gripping it.

He was doubting. He was doubting whether "Luciano" had actually snuck over to see me behind his back. The trust between the brothers had just gotten its first crack.

"From now on, lock your door," he said flatly, setting down his cup.

"Okay." I nodded obediently.

…

That afternoon, I got a call from Leo. "Chiara, I got what you asked for."

"Thanks."

"What exactly are you trying to pull? Listen to me—you're playing with fire. You need to stop."

"The fire's already burning," I said. "I just want to make it burn a little brighter."

…

That evening, I made a reservation for "Dante" and myself at a classy restaurant that usually took six months to book. I deliberately wore a long white silk dress—his favorite—and put on light makeup.

"Why are you in such a good mood today?" he asked, pulling my chair out for me.

I smiled. "Because today is our one-year anniversary."

He froze for a moment, a flicker of panic flashing in his eyes. He'd forgotten. Or rather, the man currently playing the role of "Dante" had no idea that today was "our" anniversary. That detail was something only I and the real Dante knew.

But I didn't call him out on it. I pulled a beautifully wrapped velvet box from my bag. "Happy anniversary, Dante."

He took the box and opened it. Inside was a custom signet ring bearing an eagle, which was the Costello family crest, and the letter "D".

D for Dante.

He stared at the ring, his expression complicated. Then, he said, "Thank you. I really like it."

I looked at him, smiling warmly. "I had it specially made. It's one of a kind, just like you."

"Dante" was distracted throughout the meal.

I knew what he was thinking. He was wondering how he was going to explain this ring to "Luciano". Should he pass it off as a symbol of something they shared or… claim it as a medal that belonged to him alone?

On the drive back, the atmosphere in the car was heavy and quiet. Right before we reached the gates of the estate, I suddenly spoke. "Dante, I saw someone on Fifth Street today who looked a lot like you."

His hands tightened on the steering wheel.

"He was with a tall, hot blonde. They looked pretty close." I turned to look at his perfect profile and feigned naivety as I asked, "That wouldn't happen to be your brother, would it? Did he get himself another woman?"

The car lurched to an abrupt stop as he slammed hard on the brakes.