Chapter 3

After Cassian left, a dead silence fell over the huge estate.

I sat on the sofa where he’d just been, the smell of his cigar still in the air.

Memories came flooding back.

Three years ago, my father, Salvatore Rossi, lay on his deathbed. He held my hand and spoke his last words.

“Arabella, my time is up. But I’ve arranged your future.”

“Cassian Marino will marry you. Protect you. He owes me his life. He won’t let you be mistreated.”

At the time, Cassian had just taken over as Don of the Marino family. There were enemies within. He needed my father’s old loyalists to secure his power.

Marrying me was the perfect alliance.

The day of my father’s funeral, we were married in front of the family.

I remember that night. I was wearing a hundred-thousand-dollar Vera Wang gown, huddled on the far side of the bed, terrified.

“If… if you don’t want to,” I whispered, “we can just… be married in name only.”

Cassian sat on the edge of the bed. He looked younger then, but his eyes were just as deep.

He reached out, his calloused thumb brushing my cheek. “You are my wife, Arabella. My only wife.”

Then he kissed me. It was gentle, careful, like I was a fragile doll.

That night, we found a pleasure neither of us had known before.

But the good times didn’t last.

After we were married, Cassian was always busy. Either dealing with family wars or expanding his territory overseas.

We saw less and less of each other, like two strangers living under the same roof.

Until the accident two months ago.

Cassian finally had some time off and took me to Napa Valley.

Under the stars at a vineyard, he drank a lot.

“You know, Arabella?” a drunk Cassian said, his arm around me. “I wanted to marry you from the first moment I saw you.”

“The alliance, all of it… that was just an excuse. I just wanted you.”

That night, he was wilder than on our wedding night, more possessive.

Our relationship finally started to warm up.

Then came Vegas, two weeks ago. I insisted on going with him for a “business negotiation.”

I knew it wasn't legitimate business, but I just wanted to be with him.

In the presidential suite at Caesars Palace, after some champagne, we had another wild night.

I thought we were finally moving past a political marriage and toward real love.

And now here we were. He’s wounded, the family is in crisis, and he thinks I’m going to bail on him.

I thought about the future my son warned me about.

I’d be at the bottom of Lake Michigan, and Oriana would be the new Mrs. Marino, enjoying everything that should have been mine.

Like hell.

I gritted my teeth.

That bitch Oriana Gallo wants my place?

She can dream on.

I tossed and turned until two in the morning. I couldn’t sleep, so I just scrolled through social media on my phone.

Suddenly, a message from an encrypted number popped up.

It was a photo.

Cassian’s custom Bentley was parked in front of the most luxurious hotel in Chicago. Oriana was getting out of the passenger seat, smiling like a woman who’d just been thoroughly satisfied.

The angle was damning. It looked like they’d just had a very “pleasant” evening together.

My heart stopped.

This time it was sent straight to my phone. I finally had hard proof.

I immediately hit save and tried to take a screenshot.

But the photo immediately pixelated, dissolving into a meaningless scramble of colors. A digital dead end.

“Dammit!” I cursed.

This wasn't a coincidence. Someone was playing me.

My hands trembled as I dialed Cassian’s private number, the one only I and his inner circle knew.

It rang a few times, then went straight to his second-in-command’s voicemail.

“Don Marino is unavailable. If this is an emergency, contact me, Vito…”

Cassian never turns his phone off. And no one touches his private line. No one.

A chill ran up my spine.

Something was wrong.

Either Cassian was in mortal danger… or he was in bed with Oriana, ignoring my call.

I imagined the worst, and my vision blurred with tears.

[Mom! Don’t panic!] my son’s voice cut through the fear. [Dad will be okay! He’s the most powerful Don in Chicago!]

[But you have to watch out for Oriana. She’s definitely plotting something!]