Chapter 3

I had just walked out of the estate when my phone rang.

Lorenzo's name flashed on the screen.

"Bella," he sounded tired. "Jules is fine. Just a light sprain."

I said nothing.

"Listen, I know you were angry earlier," his tone softened. "I'm willing to forgive what you said to Jules. I know you were just worried about me."

Forgive me?

I almost laughed out loud.

"There's a big game tonight. I need you there with me," he continued. "Just like old times. You're my lucky charm."

I was about to say no when I heard Juliana’s voice whining on his end of the line.

"Lorenzo, I want to..."

"One second," Lorenzo said gently to her, then back to me, "Bella. Eight o'clock. Wear the red dress."

I gripped my phone.

If I didn't show, the sharks at that table would smell blood. They would see the great Lorenzo Moretti's fiancée being publicly replaced by some fresh piece of arm candy.

I couldn't let them see me like that.

I couldn't let them know I'd already lost.

Not yet. For these last few days, I would hold on to my pride.

"Fine," I said.

After hanging up, I stood by the gates and let out a cold laugh.

Juliana's heart was perfectly fine.

She'd been pulling that shit since we were kids.

Every time she wanted something of mine, she'd clutch her chest and say her heart hurt.

My piano, my prom dress, anything I loved—my father would force me to give it to her.

I thought I was too old to fall for that trick again.

But here we were. She was using the same cheap move to steal my man.

And Lorenzo, the great Don, fell for it like a fool.

At eight o'clock, I walked into the game wearing that blood-red, backless dress.

This was New York's most exclusive private club, a place only the real power players could enter.

"Isabella!" someone called out. "Back to being Lorenzo's lucky charm tonight?"

I smiled, nodded, and took my seat beside Lorenzo.

It was the place I knew best. My seat for the last ten years.

Every time Lorenzo had a high-stakes game, I was right there.

For every hand he lost, I'd drink a glass of whiskey for him.

It was our thing.

Once, I drank a dozen glasses straight and ended up in the hospital with a bleeding stomach.

Lorenzo held my hand, his eyes full of pain. "Don't ever do that again."

But I told him he was worth it.

The next game, I was right back in that seat.

Because I wanted to be the only rose by his side.

I wanted him to look at me and see no one else.

"Let's begin," Lorenzo said.

He lost the first hand.

I picked up the whiskey and downed it. The burn was searing, but my face didn't move.

Second hand. He lost again.

I drank again.

Third hand...

"Lorenzo!"

A familiar voice cut through the room.

Everyone turned. Juliana appeared in the doorway, a vision in a white sundress. A goddamn lamb walking into a slaughterhouse.

"Jules?" Lorenzo stood up, surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"I missed you," she walked toward him, her eyes welling up with pathetic tears. "I was all alone at home."

Low whistles cut through the silence. A few mocking chuckles.

"Well, well, Lorenzo," someone drawled from across the table. "Didn't know it was bring-your-side-piece-to-work day."

"She's a lot younger than your fiancée."

"No wonder your engagement party..."

Their mocking eyes landed on me.

I sat there, a perfect smile plastered on my face, acting like I heard nothing.

Lorenzo glanced at me, then walked over and put a hand on my shoulder.

"Bella, go sit in the back."

His tone wasn't a request. It was an order.

The room went silent.

Everyone watched me, waiting for the explosion.

I stood up, my smile never faltering.

"Of course," I said. "Juliana does look like a much better lucky charm."

I retreated to a dark corner of the room. Juliana’s voice, sickly sweet, followed me like a poison dart. "Thank you, sister."

Lorenzo gave Juliana his seat and stood behind her, coaching her.

"Play that card," he whispered in her ear.

"Raise the bet here," his hand covered hers.

The intimacy of it reminded me of when we first got together.

The game went on.

Maybe Juliana really was his good luck charm. Lorenzo started winning. Hand after hand.

His pile of chips grew higher and higher. The smile on his face grew wider.

"I win!" At the end of the final hand, Lorenzo raised a glass of champagne.

He threw an arm around Juliana's shoulders, declaring his victory to the room.

Then, he picked up a $100,000 chip from the table and pushed it in front of her.

"A reward for my lucky charm," he announced.

The room erupted in applause.

Everyone was congratulating them, acting like they were the real couple.

I sat in my corner, picked up my whiskey, and drained the glass.

The alcohol burned in my stomach, but it was nothing compared to the ice in my heart.

My phone buzzed. A text from my friend, Sarah.

Are you okay?

I looked at the scene across the room—Lorenzo and Juliana, wrapped in each other's arms—and slowly typed back.

I've never seen things more clearly.