Chapter 1: Lillian

“So, I’m guessing all there really is to ask is: will you marry me, baby?” Robert asked, looking up at me with his big blue eyes. The hopefulness and the love shining in them were more than enough to make me swoon completely.

I could barely contain my excitement, barely keep it all within me. After dating Robert for a year and a half, I had been hoping this moment would come. I had dreamed that I could end college by getting married to the man of my dreams—and somehow, Robert must have heard that silent wish, because here he was, making it all real.

“Yes!” I blurted out, trying and failing to contain my tears. “Yes, of course I’ll marry you!” I chuckled, though it came out watery because of the overwhelming happiness surging through me, threatening to spill over.

He practically beamed up at me, his perfect white teeth gleaming, his brown hair styled immaculately, not a strand out of place. His navy Hugo Boss polo shirt was ironed to a crisp, and he smelled faintly of the cologne I loved so much—clean, fresh, undeniably him. Everything about Robert was perfect, which was why it was so goddamn hard not to love him to bits, to the very core of my soul.

With a careful, practiced hand, he plucked the ring from its velvet box and held it out for me, his fingers steady while mine trembled slightly as I reached out. I couldn’t help it; I had been picturing this moment for so long that I simply couldn’t keep myself perfectly composed.

And, just like everything else with Robert, the ring fit perfectly. It slid onto my ring finger like it had always belonged there, the diamond catching the golden hues of the setting sun, sparkling brilliantly. I stared at it, utterly entranced, feeling like the luckiest girl in the entire world. I couldn’t have been happier if I tried.

He seemed to burst with happiness as well, standing back up in one fluid, graceful movement and wrapping his strong arms around me. He swirled me around in the air like I weighed nothing at all, and I couldn’t help but laugh—deep, joyful, uninhibited laughter—as I clung to him, reveling in the pure, romantic magic of the moment. My fiancé. God, that word sounded perfect. I wanted to say it again and again, until it lost all meaning—and even then, I would still savor it.

“But this isn’t all,” he grinned mischievously as he set me back down on my feet, brushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear with tender fingers.

“What do you mean?” I asked, tilting my head at him, my thumbs stroking over the short, soft hair at the nape of his neck, something I knew he loved and that never failed to make him smile.

“Did you really think I would just take you up here to propose, and that would be it?” he teased, his eyes twinkling as he nodded toward the rooftop door, excitement practically radiating off him.

“But this,” I said, holding up my hand so the diamond could catch the light once more, “has been nothing short of perfect, Robby.”

It really had been. It was as if he had reached into my imagination, read every hidden wish, and recreated my dream proposal in vivid, heart-stopping reality. He had asked me to come by his office after my last class, and when he had led me up to the roof, I had found it adorned with electronic candlelights scattered all around, fairy lights strung across the walls, and the most breathtaking sunset painting the sky in oranges and pinks. I had thought it was just another one of his romantic gestures—the kind he always encouraged me to post about—but I had never, not in my wildest dreams, imagined he would actually propose to me.

“Come on, baby,” he said now, tugging me gently toward the door. “I have a big surprise for you as well.”

I couldn’t quite imagine what could possibly top the surprise I had already received, but I let him guide me nonetheless. He pulled me into the elevator, stealing a quick, soft kiss that made my heart flutter, as we descended back into the building.

My emotions felt all over the place, swirling in my chest like a storm. I wanted to bottle up the moment, to press pause and just bask in the happiness. Even though I loved all of Robert’s surprises, a part of me wished we could have stayed up there longer, just the two of us, reveling in our new status. Closer than ever. Closer to what he always called a real couple.

And yet, somewhere deep inside, a strange thought niggled at the back of my mind, one I didn’t want to examine too closely. No matter how hard I tried to root it out, it was there: a reminder that I had always believed I couldn’t be truly intimate with someone until I was married. No matter how modern the world was, no matter how much Robert sometimes grumbled about it, I had stuck firmly to that belief. I had no desire to take things further until I was a wife. Maybe it was old-fashioned, but it was the truth of who I was.

“You excited, baby?” he asked, squeezing my hand and flashing me that dazzling smile.

I smiled back, trying to jolt myself out of the introspective fog, trying to fully embrace the moment. “I’m so excited,” I said, meaning it even if the words felt a little shaky inside my mouth.

And then the elevator doors opened—and the world exploded in a burst of color, noise, and overwhelming joy.

A sea of people stood before me, shouting “Congratulations!” and clapping loudly. I blinked, stunned, my mouth hanging open, completely unable to process what I was seeing. The walls of the firm’s lobby had been decorated with balloons and banners. It felt like walking into a dream—or maybe a fairy tale.

Robert chuckled beside me, squeezing my hand tighter as he pulled me out of the elevator and directly into the arms of my friends—those I had shared study sessions with, those who had laughed and cried with me over the past few years. Everywhere I turned, familiar faces greeted me.

But through the crowd, I found myself scanning for one person in particular—Ana, my best friend, my sounding board, my sister in everything but blood. I couldn’t find her at first, the room so crowded with bodies and noise that it felt disorienting, but I knew, somehow, she would be there.

She had to be.

I didn’t even have time to ask Robert where she was before everyone started gushing about the ring, crowding around us in excitement. Phones were whipped out in an instant, flashing lights bouncing off the walls as people eagerly took pictures of Robert and me, desperate to post them to their social media accounts and tag us in every single post.

Robert quickly diverted into conversation with some of his colleagues—men and women who, judging by their sharp suits and expensive watches, he had obviously invited as well. And just like I did at every party or social gathering the firm threw, I simply stood next to him, smiling brightly, beaming the best I could, laughing politely at their dry jokes, pretending to fit in where I obviously didn’t belong. It was a role I knew well by now, a mask I had learned to wear without thinking.

“Such a big girl now, huh?” a familiar voice called out, cutting through the buzz of conversation like a warm breeze. My head immediately swiveled toward the sound, and an even bigger smile broke out across my face when I saw my mom making her way toward me.

“Mom!” I cried, feeling Robert’s hand release its possessive hold from around my back just as I launched myself into her open arms.

My mother had been through hell and back in her life, and honestly, she was a superhero—at least, she was my superhero. She was the one who had pushed me to do well in school, sitting with me at the kitchen table late into the night, trying to keep my dad away long enough so that I could concentrate. She was the one who had hidden away a small envelope of money in her sock drawer—a little nest egg she had scraped together over the years—to help with my college tuition. She was the one who had finally found the strength to tell my dad enough was enough, choosing to divorce him and leaving him alone in that crumbling, miserable house I used to call home.

“Are you happy, sweetheart?” she whispered into my ear, rocking me gently back and forth in a way that immediately transported me back to being a little girl again.

Her same old perfume wrapped around me like a comforting blanket, the warm floral scent a bittersweet reminder of every hard-fought victory she had earned. Her hand smoothed over the back of my head, her touch featherlight but grounding. She had changed so much since those darker days—only for the better. After Jeremy had paid off my dad’s debts, Mom had finally been able to live without the crushing weight of financial fear. Jeremy made sure to send her money whenever he could, helping her find stability and a life of her own. He was also the one who made sure that every Christmas, she had a new bottle of that same beloved perfume she refused to give up.

“I am, Mom,” I answered softly, pulling back slightly to look at her. My eyes drifted down to the ring glittering on my hand.

It was big. Very big. It felt almost cold somehow, like a little icicle perched on my finger, beautiful but distant. Still, it had probably cost Robert an enormous amount of money. I would love it with everything I had inside me. I would never, ever make him doubt his choice to pick me—not even for a second.

“Good,” she said warmly, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she smiled. “I’m so glad. You finally found Prince Charming, huh?”

I couldn’t help but laugh softly at her words, feeling a rush of hope that maybe she was right. Maybe Robert was the man who could give me the life I had always wanted—or at least the life I had decided I should want, the life that seemed safest, cleanest, most respectable.

“He doesn’t have a white horse, though,” I said, trying to tease, but before I could say more, I felt his hand slide down the small of my back.

“That’s not true, baby. The Porsche is white,” he grinned, flashing his perfect teeth as he leaned in. “Good evening, Sophie. I hope you’re enjoying yourself?”

Mom smiled back at him, but it was the polite kind of smile she reserved for strangers and acquaintances—not the soft, real smile she gave Jeremy or me. “I am, Robert, thank you. It’s all very...” She glanced around the gleaming, overly extravagant lobby. “Fancy.”

“Our girl deserves the best, doesn’t she?” Robert said smoothly, pressing a quick kiss to my temple before slipping back into the crowd to rejoin his colleagues.

I was just about to say something else to my mom when the elevator dinged, the metallic chime cutting sharply through the din. The doors parted, and there he was—my brother, Jeremy.

His blue eyes scanned the room swiftly, assessing everything and everyone. He didn’t have to search long. The man who stepped up beside him, Dante Gallo, never needed help finding me. Somehow, Dante always seemed to know exactly where I was, even in the most crowded spaces.

Jeremy’s eyes softened slightly when they landed on me, the stoic mask he wore for the world slipping just enough for me to glimpse the warmth underneath. But he quickly schooled his features back into that stern, unreadable expression he had perfected—a necessary armor, learned from one of the most dangerous men in the country.

He moved toward me without hesitation, his long, purposeful strides eating up the distance between us. Jeremy had changed a lot over the years. Every time I saw him, there seemed to be even more ink covering his skin, dark and winding tattoos that contrasted sharply with the clean-cut boy I had once known. He always swore he would strangle me if I ever dared to get one myself, but on him, they told a story—one he never shared.

“Hey, Jer,” I said, feeling my cheeks warm with emotion as the towering figure of my brother bent down to wrap his strong arms around me.

“Hey, Lil,” he echoed back, holding me tightly, his grip fierce and protective.

I knew he would never say congratulations. He would never utter a word of approval for Robert. Every breath Robert took seemed to irritate Jeremy, every smile, every gesture, even just his presence was enough to plant a deep, permanent scowl on my brother’s face.

“Thank you for coming,” I said when he finally pulled back, my voice low and sincere.

“Of course,” came a deeper, richer voice—a voice filled with a thick, melodic Italian accent that always seemed to ripple down my spine. “We would never miss your party, Lilliana,” Dante Gallo said, his striking green eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that made my heart skip.

I swallowed hard, looking down at my feet, shifting nervously. Dante had always been a very intense man, one who could make me feel both seen and exposed with just one glance. I couldn’t even remember the first time I had met him—but the first memory I did have of him, I knew I would never forget.