My Fiancé Betrayed Me, I Became Mafia Queen

When they kicked in the gate, my fiancé, Luca, was standing right behind the Moretti men.

When the meeting location leaked, he'd given them my name.

For days, Luca kept insisting it was only a routine investigation. At most, he said, they'd check my phone and my books. Once they found nothing, they'd leave.

"Just hang in there for a few days. It'll be over soon. You're tougher than Sofia. She couldn't handle this."

I'd always believed him. Until then, he'd never broken a promise to me.

Luca had only recently taken charge of his crew, and everyone was watching him.

I knew he needed to give the two families an answer quickly, so I didn't object all week as they went through my phone and my books.

I told myself that if I could help him get through this, a few days of mistreatment were no big deal.

But when the search team arrived, they kicked in the gate and started smashing things as soon as they entered.

They yanked drawers out and dumped their contents on the floor. They kicked over the wooden crates I'd packed for delivery.

It didn't feel like a search. It felt like they'd already decided I had leaked the address and were using the search as an excuse to punish me.

Several of them headed straight for the wine cellar.

One man searched the back of the cellar and reached for a cabinet.

I stopped him at once. "There's nothing but wine in there. You won't find anything you're looking for!"

He ignored me. The man beside him dragged me away.

The cabinet door swung open. Inside was an old wooden crate.

The color drained from my face. "Don't touch that crate!"

Inside were the last bottles of wine my adoptive father had sealed for me before he died.

He had already been very sick. Just walking down to the cellar forced him to stop and rest several times, but he still dragged himself there and sealed each bottle himself.

I'd just gotten engaged to Luca. My adoptive father sat on a wooden stool, labeling the bottles. He smiled and told me, "On your wedding day, you have to open the best bottle."

But he didn't live to see my wedding.

That wine was the last thing he'd left me. All these years, I'd never been able to bring myself to touch it.

When the searchers reached for the crate, I planted myself in front of it and looked at Luca.

I'd endured everything else they'd done, but this crate was different.

"You know how much this wine means to me."

If Luca said one word, these men might back off rather than risk crossing him—or at least handle the crate more carefully.

Luca stared at me for a few seconds. Finally, he said, "They've already searched this far. Let them finish. Once they see there's nothing in it, they'll leave."

I stared at him. He hadn't said a single word in my defense.

When the searchers realized Luca wouldn't stop them, they shoved me aside and dragged out the crate.

They handled it carelessly. The crate slammed into the wine rack, sending the bottles flying. They shattered one after another.

I lunged for it on instinct.

Wine ran across the stone floor, soaking the labels my adoptive father had attached to the bottles himself.

I reached for them, but my palm landed on broken glass. Blood streamed down my fingers and mingled with the wine.

A sharp pain tore through my hand, but I didn't care.

I dropped to my knees and pulled the soggy labels from the wine. The writing had already begun to blur.

I'd guarded that wine for years, only to watch every bottle shatter in front of me. I couldn't save a single one.

The searchers barely glanced at the mess before turning toward the stairs.

My adoptive mother's things were up there.

Luca only stopped the men when he saw the blood on my hand. "You can search upstairs, but stop smashing things. Leave anything unrelated to the investigation alone."

But by the end of the search, they had torn open the trunk holding my adoptive mother's clothes anyway.

Her favorite light blue cardigan lay by the stairs, one sleeve caked in mud.

My adoptive mother had always been so particular about cleanliness. After she died, I washed her clothes, packed them into that trunk, and never touched them again.

When the searchers found nothing, they left me alone in the wreckage.

Luca glanced at the broken glass covering the floor. "I'll send someone over to clean up tomorrow. I'll pay you back for everything they broke."

Then he sighed with relief. "Thank God they searched your place today. If they'd done this to Sofia's house, she would have been terrified."

My hand paused over the labels.

This was what I'd been reduced to, yet all Luca cared about was that Sofia hadn't had to go through it.

Is he really the man I love? Is everything I've endured today really worth it?

For days, I'd kept telling myself I was only helping him get through this.

But as I walked out of the cellar, I wondered for the first time whether we could ever go back to how things had been once the investigation ended.