Chapter 3

I pushed open the terrace doors and let the cold October air rush in. I leaned against the railing and took a deep breath.

Inside the banquet hall, Luca rested a hand on Charlotte's lower back as they talked and laughed with the guests.

Under the lights, their shadows blended together. They looked like they belonged together, in a picture that had no place for me.

They had grown up together and had twenty-nine years of history. They had shared countless nights and mornings that I had never been part of.

I was the foster daughter of Luca's father, Vittorio Vitali. Luca and I had known each other for only five years.

I had never doubted that Luca cared about me. Everything he did for me seemed sincere.

From the wedding dress and the ring to the honeymoon destination, he took care of every detail, as if he wanted to give me the best of everything.

When he proposed, candy pink filled the air. It was so intense that I believed no one in the world could love me more.

But I had forgotten one thing. Candy pink wasn't the color of love.

I put my phone on silent mode. While everyone was focused on Luca and Charlotte, I slipped out through the back door.

My driver, Carlo Moretti, was waiting in the side alley. He had been there for an hour.

"Princess." Carlo opened the door. The old man's eyes were bright under the streetlamp. "Why are you alone?"

I sank into the back seat and buried my face in my hands. "Carlo, cancel the wedding."

Carlo's hands shook with emotion. "Princess, you—"

I cut him off, confirming what he had already guessed. "Tell my father that I'm coming home."

The car pulled away. I leaned back against the seat and reached into my handbag. I took out a gold watch with the Rosso family's crest engraved on the back.

The name I had buried for five years slowly came back to me, burning in my chest.

Nicole Rosso.

My father, Bryan Rosso, was the Don of Northport's most powerful mafia family.

Five years ago, a rival family had tried to kill me several times. To keep me safe, my father and brother sent me to Crestwood, where I joined the Vitali household as a foster daughter.

Vittorio Vitali, my adoptive father and Luca's own father, was an ordinary businessman whom my father had once saved during a shooting at the docks.

On his deathbed, he put my hand in Luca's and asked him to take care of me as a way of repaying the debt he owed my father.

Luca knelt beside his father's bed and promised he would love and protect me forever.

The candy pink around him had made me believe his promise was love.

Now I knew the truth. His kindness had been an act so he could inherit the family fortune. Yet I had loved him with all my heart.

To keep Luca safe from my family's enemies, I had refused every offer from my family to bring me home. Instead, I stayed beside Luca and pretended to be a poor orphan. I endured the insults and judgment of high society just to protect him.

They thought the Vitalis had given me a place in their world. They had no idea that I was the one who had been protecting them all along. How ridiculous.

I returned inside and went to my room.

Luca called five times. Then he left a voicemail. "Where did you go? It's time to cut the cake. Everyone's waiting for you."

His voice was still gentle, though he sounded a little anxious.

In front of others, he was always the perfect fiancé. He was attentive, considerate, and devoted. If I couldn't see the colors inside his heart, I would have believed his act too.

My phone rang again. Luca's name flashed on the screen.

"Nicole?" His voice came through the phone. He sounded tired and annoyed. "Where are you? You just left without a word. No answer, no reply. Do you realize how embarrassing that was for Charlotte?"

I said nothing. He was silent for three seconds. "You're angry."

"Because of Charlotte?" There was a hint of guilt in his voice. "Nicole, she and I grew up together. She came all the way here to be your maid of honor..."

"Luca." I cut him off. "What flavor is the cake?"

He paused, confused. "Your favorite. Mango."

I laughed out loud. "I'm allergic to mango. Charlotte is the one who has always loved it."

He paused for a moment. I could already imagine the look on his face.

His brows pulled together. Surprise flashed in his slate blue eyes, then quickly turned to worry as he tried to think of an explanation.

"I'm coming to you," he said.

"Don't bother." I hung up and tossed my phone onto the bed.

I knew he would come. His inheritance depended on our marriage. No matter how he really felt about me, he had to keep pretending he loved me.

Sure enough, late that night, he showed up. But he wasn't alone. Charlotte had come with him.