Chapter 2

More than a decade ago, our Rossi family was caught in a bloody turf war.

My mother died protecting me, shielding me with her body from a bullet fired by a rival family. The .45 caliber round went straight through her heart.

I lost her that day.

A few years later, when I was fifteen, my father incurred a blood debt to the Falcone family over a failed drug deal, one he could never repay.

Don Corrado approached my sister and me with an offer: a contract to repay our family's sins with our youth. It was our only chance to avoid being dumped in the Hudson River.

And so, we were sent here, reduced to bargaining chips.

Horton must have realized he'd gone too far. He shoved Luca out of the room and locked the door from the outside.

He stalked back to me, roughly pulled me away from the wall, and threw me onto the bed. He used his thumb to crudely wipe the tears from my face.

"I thought you knew the rules," he said coldly, loosening his tie. "You don't lose your temper with the future Don. You owe Luca an apology."

He leaned over me, his body pressing down, and started tearing at the buttons of my shirt.

Then he pulled a check from his suit's inner pocket and slapped it on the nightstand.

"It's your birthday. Here's your payment. Consider it compensation for your... performance over the years."

His voice dripped with contempt. He reached for my chin to force me to look at the check, while his other hand began to wander.

I shoved him away and scrambled off the bed.

"Horton," I said, my voice terrifyingly calm, "the contract is almost over. I'll be leaving soon."

"You think you can threaten me?"

"Luca lost his mother, and you're holding a grudge against a child?" Horton's face twisted with rage.

"He's just a boy, but what about you? You're a grown woman. Why can't you be a real mother and show some compassion? He'll learn the rules when he's older."

"I have business to deal with. Stop bothering me with this petty drama. I don't have time to coddle you."

I wanted to tell him I had never needed him to solve my problems.

I only wished for the respect I was due. I never dared to hope for anything more.

But to Horton, every word I said seemed like a challenge to his authority. His gaze turned dangerous and icy, all warmth vanishing.

"I have real family business to attend to," he growled, striding towards the door and slamming it shut behind him. "You're not to leave this room tonight."

With a click, the door was locked from the outside.

I was locked in my own room, treated worse than a prisoner.

I had lost count of how many times he had humiliated me like this. I was just a convenient outlet for his frustrations, less than air to him unless he had a use for me.

Raindrops tapped against the windowpane. I sat on the floor, spending the entire night trying to piece the antique fountain pen back together.

Of course, it was impossible. The broken metal could never truly be mended. But I tried again and again, with nothing but a cheap tube of super glue and desperate obsession.

Every tiny fragment sliced my fingertips like a razor.

Blood dripped onto the manuscript, mixing with the ink to form dark red stains.

I glued it piece by piece, as if I could mend my own shattered heart along with it.

When the first ray of sunlight streamed through the blinds, I heard footsteps.

The lock on the door turned. A man in a black suit stood in the doorway, his eyes as cold and hard as stone.

"The Don wants to see you," he said flatly. "Immediately."

I threw on a coat and followed him. These were the family rules. When the Don summons you, you go.

The scent of cigar smoke hung in the air when I entered Don Corrado's private study. He sat behind a massive walnut desk, his fingers tapping lightly on the tabletop.

When he saw me, a flicker of disappointment crossed his deep-set eyes.

"I know what happened last night. Luca has Falcone blood: proud and uncompromising. But you have been a mother to him for five years, Christine. The bond between you goes beyond the contract. He remembers your kindness. Give him time. He will come to understand the meaning of famiglia."

Then his eyes, which had seen decades of bloodshed, locked onto mine. "Are you truly prepared to tear up the Rossi family's blood oath and all these years of sacrifice?"

His words hit my chest like a physical blow.

But if a family has no love or respect left, can it still be called famiglia?

My mind drifted uncontrollably to my late sister, Seraphina.

I knew that Seraphina and Horton had been considered a perfect match since childhood.

They shared the same cold intelligence, the same hunger for power. They had fought side by side in this brutal underworld since they were young, and they forged a deep bond.

My sister had always been the dazzling, brilliant daughter of a mafia family, while I was always in her shadow. Few people even remembered the Rossi family had a younger daughter.

So, my feelings for Horton had to be buried deep.

Although our father had never wanted us to marry back into the bloody mafia world, fate had other plans. The moment the Rossi family fell, my sister and I became bargaining chips.

Then, five years ago, Seraphina died from a hereditary illness. She chose to suffer alone, refusing to let anyone see her weakness, and made me swear to keep her secret.

Horton changed after that. It was as if he had lost half his soul. He brought home woman after woman who bore some resemblance to Seraphina, losing himself in nights of debauchery.

He couldn't even look at his own son, because every expression on Luca's face was a reminder of his loss.

Don Corrado was deeply worried. He couldn't let the family heir grow into a cold-blooded monster in an environment devoid of motherly love.

But he couldn't trust just any outsider with such a heavy responsibility.

He worried an outsider with ulterior motives would use the child to gain power within the family. So he turned to me. Marry Horton, become Luca's mother, and secure the family's future.