Chapter 1

When Marcello's message came through, I was staring at my own reflection in the mirror, clad in my wedding dress.

Today was supposed to be the final walkthrough for tomorrow's ceremony, but Marcello was a no-show.

Instead, all I got were those cold, blunt texts.

The words on the screen were a cruel, absurd joke.

Eight years. I'd fought by his side through hell and high water, bled for him, taken three bullets.

And all I get is "postponed for three years" while taking the fall for a canceled wedding.

I didn't cry. I didn't demand answers.

I just replied, "Okay."

I closed the chat and mindlessly opened Instagram. The first post on my feed was Gia's.

In the photo, that diamond ring sat on her pale finger—the one that should've been mine, the ring meant for the Cartel boss's wife. In the background was a sonogram.

The caption: "He chose me in the end."

The comments were full of congratulations.

"You two are perfect together!"

"A baby already? The Don sure didn't waste any time."

Out of hundreds of comments, no one mentioned me, the actual fiancée. Everyone conveniently forgot I existed.

But the moment I stepped out of my apartment building, cameras flashed in my face, blinding me.

"Miss Cora! Why the sudden change in bride for tomorrow's wedding?"

"Is it true Don Marcello got Gia pregnant? What's your comment?"

"Has the Cartel kicked you to the curb?"

Microphones were practically shoved down my throat. I stopped and gazed at the cameras.

No tears. No breakdown. I forced a flawless smile.

"I wish them a lifetime of happiness."

The crowd went dead silent.

I pushed past the reporters, got into my car, and floored it.

It didn't take long for the video of my "blessing" to go viral that night.

My phone rang. It was Marcello.

"Cora, are you out of your mind?!" His furious voice blasted through the speaker. "What the hell did you say to the press? Do you have any idea how humiliated Gia feels?"

Humiliated. So he did know what that word meant.

My voice was calm. "I'm not crazy. I genuinely wish you both happiness."

But Marcello couldn't hear the sincerity. He was convinced I was causing a scene.

"Oh, please. You think I don't know what you're doing?"

"Everyone knows tomorrow was supposed to be our wedding. You making those passive-aggressive comments just makes Gia look like a joke!"

"Apologize to her! She's crying so hard she can't breathe!"

I could hear a woman sobbing in the background.

"Marcello, forget it! I shouldn't have asked for your help. I'll just go get an abortion right now! So what if I can never be a mother? It's better than being called a homewrecker!"

"Shut up, Gia, don't talk like that." Marcello's tone softened instantly, dripping with tenderness. "We're getting our marriage license tomorrow. You'll be the legal wife of the Don. If anyone laughs at you, I'll put a bullet in their head."

How touching.

"But what about Cora?" Gia whimpered, her voice dripping with false pity. "She must hate me."

"It's only three years," Marcello said dismissively. "She'll understand."

"Now stop crying, or your stomach will hurt again. Plus, your eyes will be swollen. How are you going to be my beautiful bride tomorrow?"

Gia giggled through her tears.

Marcello sighed in relief, then his tone toward me hardened again.

"Cora, why haven't you apologized to Gia yet?"

"And if I say no?" I sneered.

"Stop being so difficult! I already promised I'd marry you in three years. How long are you going to throw this tantrum?" He was losing his patience, his voice dropping into a low, authoritative growl. "Fine, don't apologize publicly. But you need to fix this with your actions! Call the Commission right now and tell them you backed out. Stop letting them drag Gia's name through the mud!"