Chapter 3

Nico pulled Bianca tight against him, letting her bury her face in his chest.

“Look at you, Aurora.” His gaze cut into me like a knife. “This is why I left you. You’ve always been this vicious, jealous, and out of control.”

Bianca sobbed quietly in his arms, the picture of a wounded bird.

“You come back after five years, and you’re still the same,” he seethed. “You think you’re still the Rossi family’s little princess? Wake up, Aurora. You’re not fit to shine Bianca’s shoes.”

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd.

Then he did something that made everyone gasp.

He grabbed Bianca’s face and kissed her. Hard. Right there in front of everyone.

It wasn’t a polite, social kiss. It was possessive, raw, and meant to be a show.

Bianca looked surprised for a second, then melted into it, wrapping her arms around his neck. They kissed like they wanted the whole world to see how in love they were.

Applause and whistles broke out.

“Now that’s love!”

“So romantic!”

I watched the performance, my face a blank mask.

No pain. No jealousy. Not even anger.

Just a deep, bone-weary exhaustion.

“That’s funny,” I said softly.

My voice wasn't loud, but in the sudden quiet, it carried.

They broke apart. Nico looked at me, a smirk on his face, waiting for me to shatter.

I let a small, cold smile touch my lips. “You know, Bianca? He kisses you the same way he used to kiss me. At the Hamptons lake house.”

The color drained from Bianca’s face.

“He even does that little thing with his thumb,” I continued, my voice sweet as poison. “Tracing your jawline. Just like that. Right, Nico?”

Dead. Silence.

Everyone held their breath.

The Hamptons lake house. The Falcone family’s private retreat. The place Nico and I went after we got engaged.

What was left of it, anyway.

“You…” Bianca’s voice shook. “Why would you bring that up?”

“Because it was our place,” I said, my voice light, like I was talking about the weather. “Every room. Every bed. Every corner. We slept in all of them.”

“Shut up!” Nico exploded. “You have no shame, Aurora!”

“No shame?” I laughed, a short, bitter sound. “That’s rich, coming from you.”

The memory hit me like a tidal wave.

Five years ago. One week before our wedding.

I was standing in the dressing room of the Vera Wang boutique, wearing my custom gown. Ivory silk clung to my body, the long train pooling around me like a cloud.

Nico’s going to love this, I thought, smiling at my reflection.

My phone rang.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry.” Nico’s voice was tight, rushed. “Something came up. An emergency meeting. I can’t make it to the fitting.”

“But you promised…”

“I know, but this is important. I’ll make it up to you, okay?”

He hung up before I could reply.

I was disappointed, but I understood. He was busy.

After changing, I was scrolling through my phone.

Bianca had posted a new story.

The photo was blurry, taken from a strange angle. A man’s muscular back. A woman’s slender arm wrapped around him.

Both naked.

I tapped the screen to play the video.

And then I heard it. A man’s voice, thick with lust. A voice I knew better than my own.

“Bianca… God, you’re so fucking beautiful…”

It was Nico.

My hands started to shake.

I stared at the background of the photo.

It was the master bedroom of the Hamptons lake house.

Our bedroom.

The room where we’d made love countless times.

I didn’t even bother to change. I ran out of the boutique in the thousand-dollar fitting dress.

The driver stared at me.

“Miss, you—”

“The Hamptons!” I screamed. “Now! Go!”

An hour later, I threw open the doors to the house. I could hear them. Disgusting, wet sounds.

I walked up the stairs, each step a knife in my heart.

The master bedroom door was ajar.

I saw it all.

Nico on top of Bianca. Tangled together.

In our bed.

In the bed where he’d promised me forever.

“Nico…” My voice was a broken whisper.

They flew apart.

Bianca scrambled for the sheets to cover herself.

Nico’s face was white.

“Aurora… I can explain…”

“Explain what?” I stared at them. “Explain why you’re fucking my cousin in our bed?”

“It’s not what it looks like…”

“Not what it looks like?” I laughed, a hysterical, tearing sound. “What is it then? Role-play?”

“Aurora, calm down…” Nico got off the bed, tried to come toward me.

“Don’t touch me!” I backed away. “You were just inside her!”

“Just listen to me…”

“I’ve heard enough!” I turned and ran.

Down the stairs, through the living room, out into the garden.

I just ran, the white dress trailing behind me.

But the shock was too much for my body.

A white-hot pain ripped through my stomach. My legs gave out.

I collapsed on the stone steps at the entrance to the house.

A river of red soaked the ivory silk of my dress.

“My baby…” I cried, my voice raw with despair.

Nico ran out. He saw the blood and his face went even paler.

“Call an ambulance!” he screamed at Bianca.

But it was too late.

At the hospital, the doctor told me the baby was gone.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “You’ve had a miscarriage.”

I lay on the cold hospital bed, staring at nothing.

Two days later, the elders of both families held a meeting.

“This cannot get out,” the Falcone patriarch said. “The alliance must proceed.”

“But…” I said, my voice weak.

“No buts.” Vincent Rossi, my father, looked at me without an ounce of sympathy. “You will marry Nico. The families depend on it.”