Chapter 2

The call abruptly ended. The dial tone was piercing in the empty room.

I tossed my phone onto the sofa.

Two seconds later, the screen lit up. A text from Marcello.

"Cora, stop making a scene, okay? Just do me this one favor."

"I know these three years will be hard on you. I swear, I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you."

I stared at the text and smirked.

The rest of his life?

I’d already given him my youth, my love, and my blood. Eight whole years.

Nearly three thousand days and nights. Hiding in sewers to evade rival gangs, taking bullets for him in the crossfire.

And now, he was going to hold another woman’s hand and make vows in front of a priest. It was the sickest joke I’d ever heard.

Before I could reply, the screen flashed.

He unsent the messages.

A new text popped up.

"Unsent those. Gia gets insecure, she might overthink if she sees them. Let's just not talk for these three years."

Because of his mistress's "insecurities," he wouldn't even leave an empty promise in writing.

I typed back a single, cold word: "Okay."

Hit send.

A glaring red exclamation mark popped up.

[Message Not Sent. You have been blocked by this user.]

Clean and ruthless.

I let out a cold laugh.

I opened my socials and posted a single statement for all my friends and the Commission:

"I, Cora, am officially calling off my engagement to Mr. Marcello for personal reasons."

Within a minute, my phone vibrated like crazy. Floods of DMs.

"Cora, are you insane? He's the Don of the Cartel!"

"You're just handing over a powerful husband to someone else? What about your eight years together?"

I glanced at them and didn't reply to a single one.

Powerful husband? He was already someone else's husband.

A notification dinged. A multimedia message from an unknown number.

I opened it. It was a signed marriage certificate.

Followed by high-res photos. Marcello had Gia pinned against the hood of a sports car, kissing her deeply. Gia's arms were wrapped around his neck, the diamond ring on her finger blindingly bright.

Below was a taunting message: "Thanks for stepping aside, Cora. Marcello signed the papers right away just to cheer me up."

I didn't even blink. I deleted the message and blocked the number.

Just then, my father called.

The second I answered, he started screaming.

"Cora! Have you lost your mind?! Why would you post a statement like that! If you don't marry him now, what if he doesn't want you in a few years?"

I didn't bother hiding it. "It wasn't my choice," I said flatly. "It was his."

He paused, then said, "Then you must have done something wrong! Swallow your pride, beg a little. Don't throw away all these years without getting anything out of it!"

Actually, my father wasn't entirely wrong.

Over these eight years, I took three bullets for Marcello. One went straight through my abdomen. I was a month pregnant at the time.

We lost another baby.

The one before that, Marcello had made it clear he didn't want it. Said he wasn't ready.

Every time I brought up marriage over the years, he would hold me and say, "Cora, wait a little longer. Once my position as Don is secure, I'll give you the grandest wedding in New York."

I believed him.

I waited until he purged his enemies and claimed his throne.

And my reward was him giving Gia his name.

It was all for nothing.

"I'm not going to try and win him back," I told my father. "It is what it is. I'm never getting back together with him."

Ignoring his frantic yelling, I hung up.

For years, I'd loved Marcello blindly, swallowing every grievance just to give him what he wanted.

Just like now. He wanted to marry Gia.

In that moment, even though my heart was bleeding, I finally felt relieved.