The Scapegoat Fiancée: I Am No Substitute

Seven years. That was the price I paid for my sister’s crime.

My fiancé, Dante, the most ruthless Don in New York, called my prison sentence "mercy." He promised we would go back to how things were once the debt was paid.

But when I walked out of those gates, I didn't find a husband waiting for me. I found him peeling grapes for my sister, Chiara.

They sat at the family table, telling me I was unstable. They demanded I break our engagement so Dante could marry her instead.

They claimed she was fragile, dying of leukemia, while I was "strong enough" to handle the rejection.