"You've been watching me," Sarah said, holding up the folder of surveillance photos. "For three years."
Diego closed the study door behind him. "Put that down." "Why?" Sarah flipped through more photos—her jogging in Central Park, leaving her office late at night, even one through her apartment window. "Planning this for a while, were you? Targeting me specifically for Vincent's case?" Diego crossed the room in three long strides, snatching the folder from her hands. "You shouldn't be in here." "And you shouldn't be stalking prosecutors!" Sarah shot back. "What was Vegas, then? Some elaborate setup?" Diego's jaw worked as he shoved the folder back into the drawer. "It's not what you think." "Really? Because it looks like your family has been surveilling me since before I was even assigned Vincent's case." She jabbed a finger at his chest. "Tell me the truth. Was last night planned?" Diego's eyes darkened. "No. Last night was..." He hesitated. "A mistake. But not a planned one." "Then explain the photos," Sarah demanded, crossing her arms. Diego leaned against his desk, suddenly looking tired. "Three years ago, we received intelligence that the FBI was building a RICO case against our family. They were targeting prosecutors they thought could be... influenced." "Influenced?" Sarah repeated. "You mean corrupted?" "Or pressured. Or manipulated." Diego shrugged. "We monitored all potential prosecutors who might be assigned our case." "There must be dozens of us at the DA's office who handle RICO cases." "Five," Diego corrected. "Only five with enough experience to handle our case. You were the most promising target." Sarah felt sick. "Target for what, exactly?" "Information. We suspected someone was feeding you details about our operation. A plant in your office, maybe. Or someone close to you." Sarah thought of her colleagues, her friends, searching for who might be a federal informant. "That's ridiculous." "Is it?" Diego pulled out another folder, opening it to reveal photos of her paralegal meeting with men in suits. "Jason Reeves. Hired to your team two years ago. Former FBI." Sarah stared at the photos. Jason—quiet, efficient Jason who always stayed late, who remembered how she took her coffee, who seemed to anticipate which cases she'd need research for. "That doesn't mean—" "We have recordings," Diego said flatly. "He's been reporting on your casework directly to a federal taskforce." Sarah sank into a chair, mind reeling. "If that's true, why didn't you warn Vincent? Why let me build the case at all?" "Vincent didn't believe me," Diego admitted. "He thought our businesses were insulated enough. He thought I was being paranoid." A bitter smile crossed his face. "He always underestimated the feds. And you." Sarah processed this information, her prosecutor's mind fitting pieces together. "So I was being manipulated by the FBI, surveilled by you, and neither of you thought to mention this to me?" "Would you have believed me if I'd tried?" Diego asked pointedly. Before she could answer, her phone buzzed with an incoming call. Her boss. She'd been avoiding him all day, but she couldn't put this off forever. "I need to take this," she said, stepping back into the sitting room for privacy. "Sarah Walsh," she answered, trying to sound normal. "Walsh! What the hell is going on?" Her boss's voice was tight with anger. "I've got reporters calling about you and Diego Castillo! Tell me this is some sick joke." Sarah's stomach dropped. "Sir, I can explain—" "Explain what? That my star prosecutor married into the crime family she just prosecuted? The press has a marriage certificate, Walsh! With your name on it!" "It's complicated," she said weakly. "Complicated doesn't begin to cover it! The department is facing a public relations nightmare! Vincent Castillo's lawyers are already filing for a mistrial based on conflict of interest!" "That's absurd," Sarah protested. "The marriage happened after the verdict. It has no bearing on—" "Save it," he cut her off. "I need you in my office tomorrow morning to explain yourself. And I expect your resignation on my desk." "Resignation?" Sarah's voice rose. "Sir, I won my case! I did nothing wrong professionally!" "You married Diego Castillo! Do you have any idea how that looks?" His voice dropped lower. "I trusted you, Sarah. We all did. Whatever game you're playing with the Castillos, you've destroyed your career for it." The call ended abruptly. Sarah stared at her phone in disbelief. Diego appeared in the doorway, his expression making it clear he'd overheard. "Problem at work?" "They want my resignation," she said numbly. "Fifteen years of building my career, gone in a day." "I'm sorry," Diego said, and he sounded genuinely regretful. "I'll compensate you, of course." Sarah laughed bitterly. "Money? You think this is about money? This was my life's work!" "It's temporary," Diego reminded her. "Once this is resolved—" "Once this is resolved, my reputation will still be destroyed," Sarah cut him off. "No one hires a prosecutor who married into the mob, even briefly." Diego had no response to that. Instead, he checked his watch. "We should get ready for dinner. Nonna expects punctuality." Sarah wanted to argue, to scream, to throw something, but what would be the point? She'd signed the contract. She'd agreed to this charade. Four months of playing mob wife, and then... what? A ruined career and a target on her back? She retreated to the bedroom to change, finding her suitcase had been unpacked, her clothes hanging alongside new items with designer labels still attached. She chose a simple black dress from her own things, not wanting to accept more from the Castillos than she already had. Dinner was a tense affair. Nonna Elena dominated the conversation, telling stories about Diego as a child while various aunts, uncles, and cousins watched Sarah with undisguised suspicion. Sarah picked at her food, trying to remember who was who, noting the clear divisions of loyalty among the family members. After dinner, Diego took her aside. "The council meeting is just family leadership. It will be... intense. They'll question you, question us. Follow my lead." "Shouldn't we get our stories straight first?" Sarah asked. "The less rehearsed we seem, the better," Diego replied. "Just remember—we're in love, we kept it secret because of Vincent's case, and now we're committed to each other and the family." "In other words, lie convincingly," Sarah muttered. "Exactly," Diego squeezed her hand. "Ready?" The council meeting took place in a wood-paneled room with a large round table. Twelve men and three women—including Nonna Elena—watched as Diego led Sarah to two empty chairs. Marco, the enforcer from Vegas, stood as they entered. "Don Diego, your bride is not family. She should not be present for council business." "My wife," Diego emphasized the word, "is now family. She stays." An older man with silver hair leaned forward. "Your brother would never allow this." "My brother is in prison," Diego replied coldly. "I lead the family now." "A family you seem eager to change," another man countered. "First your legitimate businesses taking precedence, now marrying the very woman who destroyed Vincent—" "Enough, Antonio," Nonna Elena interrupted. "Diego has earned the right to speak." Diego stood, still holding Sarah's hand. "My marriage to Sarah was unexpected, yes. But it presents opportunities. Her legal expertise, her connections—these are valuable." "And when Vincent returns?" Antonio challenged. "What then?" "Vincent made choices that landed him in prison," Diego said evenly. "I'm making choices to ensure our family survives and thrives despite that setback." The meeting devolved into rapid-fire Italian that Sarah couldn't follow. She sat silently, feeling like a lamb among wolves, noting how Diego commanded respect despite the obvious tension. Nonna Elena watched the proceedings with sharp eyes, occasionally interjecting to calm tempers. Finally, Diego turned to Sarah. "Tell them," he said in English. "Tell them why you married me." All eyes turned to her. Sarah's mind raced. What was Diego doing? "I..." she began, then stopped, gathering her thoughts. These people would detect a rehearsed speech instantly. She needed something real. "I built my career pursuing justice. Following the law. Seeing things in black and white." Diego's hand tightened around hers in warning, but she continued. "Meeting Diego showed me that life isn't that simple. That people aren't that simple." She looked directly at him as she spoke, finding it easier to tell this half-truth while looking into his eyes. "I risked everything to follow my heart. I'm still not sure if it was the right choice, but it was my choice." A long silence followed her words. Nonna Elena was the first to speak. "She will do," the old woman declared, as if delivering a verdict. "The council accepts this marriage." Not everyone looked convinced, but no one contradicted Nonna Elena. The meeting shifted to business matters—territory disputes, distribution problems, police payoffs—all discussed in coded language that barely disguised their illegality. Sarah's prosecutor instincts screamed to memorize every detail, but self-preservation kept her expression neutral. She was deep in the lion's den now; one wrong move could be fatal. Later, back in their suite, Diego poured them both a drink. "You did well," he said, handing her a glass. "They believed you." "I believed myself," Sarah admitted, taking a long sip of whiskey. "That's what scares me." A knock at the door interrupted them. Diego opened it to find an unfamiliar man in a suit. "Mr. Castillo? I'm Agent Clark, FBI." He flashed a badge. "Could I have a word?" Diego's expression didn't change, but Sarah saw his shoulders tense. "Of course. Come in." The agent nodded to Sarah. "Mrs. Castillo. Quite a career change you've made." "What can we do for you, Agent Clark?" Diego asked, his tone pleasant but guarded. "Just a friendly heads-up," Clark said, declining the offered seat. "We're aware of your... situation." He glanced between them. "And we're aware of the information Ms. Walsh has been unwittingly providing us through her paralegal." Sarah set down her glass carefully. "You admit to planting an informant in my office?" "Jason Reeves has been very helpful," Clark acknowledged without apology. "Your meticulous case preparations against Vincent Castillo gave us insight into operations even your husband here might not be aware of." Diego's expression darkened. "Get to the point, Agent." "The point is, we still have an ongoing investigation. Ms. Walsh's... unexpected marriage creates complications. We'd hate to see her charged as an accessory after the fact." "Are you threatening my wife?" Diego asked, his voice dangerously soft. Clark smiled thinly. "Just making sure everyone understands the situation. Your brother goes down, you start legitimizing the business, and suddenly his prosecutor becomes family? It raises questions." "Questions I'll be happy to answer with my attorneys present," Sarah replied coolly. "That won't be necessary if we continue to receive cooperation." Clark headed for the door. "Enjoy your evening, Mr. and Mrs. Castillo. I'm sure we'll be in touch." After he left, Sarah turned to Diego. "He's implying I should continue feeding them information through Jason." "Or that they want to turn you into their inside woman here," Diego agreed grimly. "Either way, we have a problem." Sarah's head spun with the implications. Her career in ruins, caught between the FBI and the mob, married to a man she barely knew. "I'm going to bed," she said abruptly. "I can't process any more tonight." In the bedroom, she changed quickly and slipped under the covers, too exhausted to worry about Diego's sleeping arrangements. Her life had imploded so completely in the past twenty-four hours that she could barely remember who she had been before Vegas. She was nearly asleep when she heard the outer door of the suite open and close quietly. Diego leaving? She listened for his return but eventually drifted off. She woke hours later to find her bed empty, the suite silent. On her pillow was a small black rose—fresh, its petals velvety against her fingertips. Her phone rang, an unknown number. Hand shaking, she answered. "Counselor?" Vincent Castillo's voice slid through the speaker, as smooth and deadly as a knife. "Welcome to the family. I've arranged for your first lesson in loyalty tonight."
