The Girl Without a Name Was the Name They All Feared

Right before I finished school, my man of four years, Lorenzo Bianchi, told me he wanted to end it.

He handed me the deed to a townhouse, the keys to a Bentley, and eighteen million in clean cash, and thanked me for the four years.

I just stood there, wanting to know why we were ending anything at all.

But he only said, cold as a blade laid flat on a table, "Adriana Valente, for a man from a bloodline like mine, love and marriage are two separate accounts. I'm going home for a blood-alliance union. Understand?"