Separate Roads I Fought For
I stared at the Vercetti marriage contract my father pushed across the table.
Without hesitation, I wrote my half-sister’s name, Demi, and slid it back.
My father froze. Then his eyes lit up with ridiculous excitement, like he’d just won the lottery.
"How can you give such a perfect chance to your sister?"
Last life, my marriage was a joke for everyone around me.
I was the red-haired, untamed little witch who dared to climb into the orbit of Cassian Vercetti, heir and leader of the old-blood Vercetti crime family.
I was never perfect nor obedient.
He loved goddess gowns. I wore mini skirts and danced on tables.
He demanded missionary, traditional, orderly intimacy. I wanted to climb on top, ride him, lose myself completely.
At a gala, society wives laughing at my hair, my dress, my “wildness.”
I thought he would at least pretend to defend me.
He didn’t.
“Forgive her. She’s not…properly trained.”
Trained.
Like a dog.
I spent my entire last life suffocating under his rules, bending myself bloody to fit the shape he wanted, until the night our house caught fire.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the moment I learned of the arranged marriage.
I looked at the contract in front of me.
This time?
I think the nightclub boys suits me better.
But the moment Cassian realized the bride wasn’t me, he shattered every rule he’d ever lived by.