Chapter 5

Half an hour later, my cab pulled up to the bridal shop.

Through the huge floor-to-ceiling windows, the place was lit up.

Bianca stood in front of the mirrors, swarmed by staff, looking like a real bride.

"It's perfect!" the staff gushed. "Like it was made just for you!"

I walked in and saw her wearing the vintage haute couture gown I had picked out for the wedding.

19th-century French royal hand-embroidery, pearl trim. A priceless piece of art.

It took me three months to hunt it down from a private collector.

"Oh, Scarlett!" Bianca spun around, faking a surprise. "You're finally here! This dress is stunning, but..."

She frowned on purpose, playing torn.

"The style is a bit dated, don't you think? Not great for a modern wedding. Are you sure you want to wear it?"

The staff quickly chimed in.

"True, vintage is hard to pull off."

"Not everyone can handle a classic look."

Nico strolled over, his eyes roaming all over Bianca.

"I think it suits Bianca perfectly," he said, clearly admiring her. "How about I buy it for you?"

"Really?" Bianca's eyes lit up. "But it's Scarlett's..."

"It's fine. I'll pick out another one for Scarlett." Nico waved it off generously. "This one was meant for you."

I stood there, watching their shameless show.

My phone vibrated. The PI sent the report.

I opened the file. The first line made my blood run cold:

Ski Accident Findings: Trail sabotaged. Attempted murder.

I kept reading. Every sentence was a knife to the heart:

[On the day of the accident, Bianca arrived early and placed metal hazards on your ski trail.]

The report continued.

[Nico handled the cover-up immediately. He arranged for her treatment, calling it an 'accident'.]

The words on the screen blurred. Was it rage or tears? I couldn't tell.

And on the last page of the report, the final blow:

[Regarding your father's warehouse fire: The arsonist was Bianca Carter. Nico Russo used his family's power to bury all evidence of the crime.]

My father...

My father. His entire life's work, a priceless collection of art. All of it, gone. Wiped out by that demon.

And I married him. The man who protected my father's killer.

A tearing pain ripped through my chest. Pure hatred swallowed me whole.

Just then, a noise came from the fitting room next door.

The sounds were unmistakable. A man's heavy panting. A woman's soft moan.

"Slower... they'll hear us..."

"Let 'em. You look too good today..."

I walked mechanically back to the lounge area, only to find Marco sitting there.

Wearing the exact same suit and watch as Nico, casually flipping through a magazine.

Hearing my footsteps, he looked up, mimicking Nico's tone:

"What's wrong, baby? You look pale."

Looking at his face—Nico's face—my stomach turned. A chill shot right through me.

How long were they going to play this sick game?

"I'm fine." I fought to keep from shaking, my voice pure ice. "It's stuffy in there. I need some air."

Marco hesitated, thrown by my calm.

"Scarlett, what's wrong?" He stood up, reaching for my arm.

"Don't touch me." I pulled back, refusing to even look at him.

I wouldn't give them the satisfaction of a scene. No screaming, no accusations. They weren't worth it.

My face a blank mask, I turned and walked. I had to get out. I couldn't spend one more second in that disgusting place.

"Scarlett! Where are you going?"

Footsteps pounded the pavement behind me. Nico or Marco, I couldn't tell.

"Get your hands off me!" I ripped my arm out of his grip.

"What is your problem now?" he snapped, his patience gone. "Making a scene in the street? You trying to embarrass the Russo name?"

Just then, gunshots exploded from across the street.

A black car swerved wildly, tires screaming as it crashed toward the curb. Bullets hammered the air.

"Get down!" he roared.

But his first instinct wasn't to protect me. He whipped around and lunged toward Bianca, who had just stepped out of the shop.

"Watch out!"

He needed to get to Bianca. To save her. So he shoved me aside. Hard.

I crashed hard onto the pavement. Flying glass sliced into my cheek and arms.

Blood soaked my clothes instantly.

"My baby..." I instinctively curled up to protect my stomach.

When I opened my eyes, I was lying in a strange clinic.

"You're awake?" a deep voice sounded by my ear.

I turned my head and my eyes went wide.

Julian Thorne? Why was he here?

"Don't panic. I'm handling your divorce," he smiled bitterly. "Though I didn't expect you to be in such rough shape when we met again. Rest easy. The baby is fine. I'm going to help you."

I could hear some mob soldiers talking outside the door:

"The Boss really gave it all to protect the future Madam."

"Yeah, dodging bullets like that to save her."

"That Scarlett is nothing but trouble. Always getting in the Boss's way."

I managed a hollow, empty smile.

"Julian," I whispered, my voice cracking. "Get me out of here. Do whatever it takes."

He gave me a long look and nodded. "Alright."

Two hours later, I was sitting in Julian's car, watching the Chicago skyline blur past the window.

On my phone, I typed out a scheduled text. Set to send on the day of the wedding, three days from now.

Then, I destroyed the SIM card.

I laid a hand over my stomach. A silent vow. Starting today, Scarlett Russo is dead.

It was time to burn their world to the ground.

Two hours later, I was on a plane. The tears finally came, and they wouldn't stop.

I thought of Nico, how he stood with me overlooking the Chicago skyline. He promised me the world.

But it was all a lie. A sick, elaborate lie.

Nico. We're done. Forever.