I Was Never His to Lose

The Gambino family's highest rule: every Don must be married before taking office.

So the moment I came back from studying abroad, my father sent me to intern at the family company run by my fiancé, Ethan Clark—to prepare me for taking over family operations, pave the way for me to become the next Don of the Gambinos, and, you know, build some chemistry between us while we were at it.

I thought it was just a formality, so I went alone. No guards. No backup.

But the second I walked in, I saw some provocatively dressed woman surrounded by everyone, ordering people around like she owned the place—get her tea, get her water, no questions asked.

I glanced at the nameplates on their chests. Content manager. Executive manager. The whole senior leadership team.

They were all standing there, smiling stiffly, handing her things, calling her "Mrs. Clark" with this fake reverence.

I froze. Raised an eyebrow.

She's Mrs. Clark?

I told myself not to jump to conclusions. I pushed down the heat rising in my chest and kept watching.

She was dripping in designer labels, loaded with flashy jewelry, even her nails crusted with diamonds. She leaned back in a plush chair, flipping through a contract like it was a takeout menu.

Then she let out a sneer. Ripped it in half.

"This is so boring! Get me a novel or something."

Someone behind her gasped. "Mrs. Clark—that contract was worth two hundred million!"

"So what?" Georgia Taylor's face went cold in an instant, her eyes slicing toward him like daggers.

The others rushed in to smooth things over, practically tripping over their own tongues.

"Mrs. Clark tore it up beautifully! The whole company is going to be yours someday anyway—what's two hundred million compared to that?"

"Exactly! The CEO spoils you so much. All the money he makes is basically yours to spend."

Georgia lapped it up like honey. Her smirk stretched wide.

Then she looked up, and her finger landed on me.

"You. Go get me some tuna sushi. The tuna has to be flown in today from Ginza, Tokyo—only the most tender center cut. And get me a cup of Blue Mountain coffee. By the time it hits my lips, it better be exactly forty degrees. Otherwise, don't bother coming back."

I frowned.

"I'm here to work. Not to be your errand girl."

Georgia's smile dropped. She fixed me with that cold look again.

"Do you know who I am? I'm Ethan's wife. You don't listen to me? I'll have him fire your ass before you can blink."

"You sure you're Ethan's wife?"

"Of course I am. Scared now? Maybe if you stand right there and scream 'I'm a stupid bitch' loud enough for everyone to hear, I might go easy on you." Her chin was so high she could've scraped the ceiling.

I let out a cold laugh. Calm. Flat. "You sure are."

Georgia's face went crimson. She opened her mouth to lay into me, but I'd already pulled out my phone and dialed Ethan.

"Your 'Mrs. Clark' is throwing her weight around under your name. She's trying to take my ring. Care to explain?"

His voice came through, cold as a winter draft.

"Who the hell are you? Get lost."

Georgia doubled over laughing, clutching her stomach.

"Look at you—who do you think you are, calling Ethan? What, thought you could seduce him? Let me tell you something—Ethan only loves me. Only me."

She whipped out her own phone, called him right back, and put on this tearful little act.

"Ethan... one of your interns bullied me..."

His voice was nothing like what I'd just heard. Soft. Tender. Like she was made of glass.

"Baby, don't be upset. Anyone who dares to bully you—give it right back to them double. I've got your back."

Georgia shot me a triumphant look.

"Heard that? Ethan said I can do whatever I want with this one! Throw her out. Make her kneel at the gate for the whole day."

"Make her kneel on the gravel," Ethan added, his voice dripping with indulgence for her—and pure venom for me.

They moved toward me, reaching for my arms.

I raised my hand to shove them off—but then Georgia spoke again.

"Wait. That blue sapphire ring on her hand. I want it."

"Why would you want some woman's secondhand junk? Whatever you want, I'll buy you new ones," Ethan said.

"No, I want that one. The one she's wearing."

Georgia pouted, all whiny and spoiled.

"Fine, fine. Anything you want. It's yours."

The ring on my finger is the symbol of the Gambino heir. Fingerprint-locked. Anyone else who dares to wear it gets a kill order from the entire family.

And she wanted that.

I raised my voice, loud enough for Ethan to hear clearly.

"Ethan. Do you even know what she's asking for? Give her that ring, and you will regret it."

"Your little trinket being given to Georgia is an honor for you. Don't be ungrateful."

An honor. I should be grateful.

I felt the ice crystallize in my chest.

Fine then. If that's how he sees it—this stupid excuse of a fiancé? I don't want him anymore.