Chapter 1

For three years, I'd been the kept woman of Lewis Delgado, the ruthless heir to New York's most powerful Mafia family.

In the city's underworld, everyone knew me as his obedient little pet.

Some called me his mistress. Others simply called me his dog.

I never bothered correcting them.

After all, for three years, I'd played my part perfectly. I smiled when Lewis wanted me to smile, entertained his dangerous associates, drank on his behalf at Mafia gatherings, and warmed his bed whenever he summoned me.

I endured every humiliation without complaint.

But the day Isabella Moretti, his precious first love, returned from Italy, Lewis finally decided he no longer needed me.

"Pack your things, Abigail. Isabella's coming home. I don't want her finding another woman in my house."

His voice was cold, as though he were dismissing a disposable employee rather than the woman who'd spent three years by his side.

I didn't cry.

I didn't beg.

Instead, I placed a thick stack of documents on his mahogany desk.

Lewis glanced at the papers and sneered.

"What is this? A desperate apology? Some pathetic love letter begging me to keep you?"

He picked up the first page, clearly expecting another declaration of undying devotion.

But the moment he read the heading, his mocking smile vanished.

EMOTIONAL SERVICES INVOICE

Client: Lewis Delgado, Underboss of the Delgado Crime Family

Service Provider: Abigail Fox

Billing Period: 1,095 Days

Itemized Charges:Hand-holding at public appearances: $5,000 per instance.

Drinking whiskey on his behalf during Mafia negotiations: $20,000 per glass.

Accompanying him to dangerous family gatherings: Hazard compensation billed separately.

Pretending to enjoy his company in front of rival crime bosses: $50,000 per appearance.

Faking orgasms: $100,000 per performance, including acting and emotional labor premiums.

Every service I'd provided over the past three years was listed in meticulous detail.

Not a single favor had been overlooked.

I extended my hand toward him, my expression perfectly composed.

"Mr. Delgado, please settle your outstanding balance. Once payment clears, our arrangement is officially terminated."

For a moment, Lewis simply stared at me.

Then his eyes turned bloodshot.

With a furious roar, he seized the invoice and tore it into pieces.

"Abigail Fox!"

His voice thundered through the penthouse.

"Three fucking years! I gave you everything! A mansion, designer clothes, protection under the Delgado name!"

He threw the shredded papers at my feet.

"Are you telling me none of it meant anything to you?"

I watched the fragments scatter across the marble floor.

Then I calmly retrieved a calculator from my handbag.

Lewis looked as though he might strangle me.

"Did you ever have a single ounce of genuine affection for me?"

I blinked, genuinely puzzled.

"Affection?"

I tapped a few buttons on the calculator.

"Oh, Mr. Delgado. That's a separate service."

I looked up and offered him a professional smile.

"Unfortunately, genuine love wasn't included in your package."

His face went rigid.

I tilted the calculator toward him.

"And according to my records, you never paid for it."

……

The moment Lewis Delgado loosened his grip, the shredded pieces of my invoice fluttered to the marble floor like snow.

"Abigail."

His voice was dangerously low.

"Three years. You lived under my roof for three fucking years. I gave you everything a woman could possibly want, and you're telling me it was all just business?"

He spoke through clenched teeth, his dark eyes burning with disbelief and fury.

I looked at him calmly.

"Mr. Delgado, let's not rewrite history."

I straightened my back and met his gaze.

"When you say you treated me well, which part are you referring to?"

His jaw tightened.

"The nights you came home drunk from the family's underground clubs, calling Clarissa Simmons's name while I sat beside your bed, imitating her voice until you finally fell asleep?"

I paused.

"Or perhaps you mean those charity galas hosted by the Five Families, where you paraded me around like an expensive accessory?"

His expression darkened.

"Abigail."

"Remember how the daughters of those Mafia bosses used to call me Clarissa's cheap replacement?"

I smiled faintly.

"They laughed right in front of you. One of them even asked whether you'd found me at an auction because you couldn't afford the original."

I looked directly into his eyes.

"And what did you do, Lewis?"

He said nothing.

"Absolutely nothing. You stood there drinking your whiskey while they humiliated me."

I tilted my head.

"Or perhaps you're talking about the nights when..."

"Are you seriously blaming me?"

Lewis interrupted with a cold laugh.

He stepped forward.

At six-foot-three, with broad shoulders and the imposing presence of a man who'd grown up commanding armed soldiers, he knew exactly how to intimidate people.

He'd used that same expression to silence rival capos during family meetings.

But I didn't move.

"Mr. Delgado, please."

I lifted my chin and gave him the flawless smile he'd always liked.

Polite. Elegant. Perfectly controlled.

The kind of smile that never reached my eyes.

"I have a degree in finance from Columbia University. I don't make investments without calculating the return."

Lewis stared at me.

I continued evenly.

"Over the past three years, I've taken eighty-six drinks on your behalf during Mafia negotiations. I've dealt with twenty-four women who tried to replace me, including the daughters and mistresses of your business associates."

I held up another finger.

"I attended your family gatherings, entertained your guests, memorized the preferences of every important capo in the Delgado organization, and managed your emotional needs every single night."

His expression grew uglier with every word.

"That's labor, Mr. Delgado. Skilled labor, actually."

I picked up my calculator.

"And skilled labor comes with a price."

I began pressing the buttons.

"Eighty-six instances of alcohol-related services, multiplied by the applicable rate, plus the appearance fees, emotional compensation, and performance premiums..."

The soft clicking of the calculator filled the room.

Lewis watched me as though I'd completely lost my mind.

A moment later, I turned the screen toward him.

"Let's make this simple."

I smiled.

"I'll round the total down to twenty-four million dollars."

His eyes widened slightly.

"And since Miss Simmons has finally returned from Italy, I'm willing to offer you a two-percent discount as a gesture of goodwill."

I tapped the calculator again.

"Consider it my congratulations on your reunion."

My smile deepened.

"I wish you both a long and happy life together."

Lewis stared at the numbers.

His chest rose and fell heavily.

For several seconds, he seemed incapable of speech.

Then he gave a harsh laugh.

"Fine."

His voice sounded almost unrecognizable.

"Fine!"

He swept his hand across mine.

The calculator flew out of my grip and struck the marble floor with a sharp crack.

I glanced down at it.

Fortunately, the screen hadn't shattered.

Lewis leaned closer, his eyes blazing.

"Abigail Fox, have you forgotten something?"

I looked up.

"The Fox family still owes me fifty million dollars."

His lips curled into a cruel smile.

"That debt is the only reason you were allowed to live under my protection in the first place."

He straightened, adjusting the cuffs of his tailored black shirt.

"Your father borrowed money from the Delgado family. When he couldn't repay it, you came crawling to me."

His gaze swept over me.

"Without my protection, your family would've been torn apart by creditors years ago."

He paused, clearly expecting me to panic.

"So tell me, sweetheart. If you walk out of this house today, how exactly do you plan to repay those fifty million dollars?"

I stared at him for a moment.

Then I crouched down and picked up my calculator.

I brushed a little dust from its casing and pressed the reset button.

"Mr. Delgado, I think your memory is getting worse."

His smile faltered.

I stood and smoothed the wrinkles from my skirt.

"The acquisition of Moretti Logistics that I negotiated for your organization last month. Remember that?"

Lewis frowned.

"What about it?"

"The commission from that deal, combined with my accumulated salary and performance bonuses, covered the remaining balance of the Fox family's debt."

I spoke as though I were explaining an ordinary accounting entry.

"Every dollar has been accounted for. The final payment cleared three days ago."

His expression changed.

"That's impossible."

"Is it?"

I opened my handbag and took out my phone.

"The bank statements, transfer confirmations, and debt settlement documents were sent to your private email yesterday."

I looked up.

"You can check them whenever you like."

Lewis didn't reach for his phone.

Instead, he stared at me with an expression I couldn't quite read.

For three years, he'd treated my presence in his penthouse as something permanent.

He'd assumed the fifty-million-dollar debt would keep me tied to the Delgado family indefinitely.

Perhaps he'd even believed I was grateful for the arrangement.

But I'd never intended to remain anyone's possession forever.

Every financial report I'd prepared, every acquisition I'd negotiated, and every commission I'd earned had brought me closer to paying off that debt.

And now it was gone.

The Fox family owed the Delgados nothing.

Not a single cent.

Lewis slowly turned away.

He walked toward the leather sofa and sat down heavily.

Then he took a cigarette from the silver case on the coffee table.

The lighter clicked.

A small orange flame illuminated his face before disappearing.

He inhaled deeply.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was the faint hum of the penthouse's ventilation system.

Then he exhaled.

A thin stream of smoke curled toward the ceiling, partially obscuring his dark eyes.

"So that's what this was."

His voice was quiet.

I didn't answer.

He laughed bitterly.

"You used me."

I raised an eyebrow.

"Excuse me?"

"You stayed by my side for three years, took advantage of my family's resources, paid off your debt, and now you're ready to walk away."

He tapped ash into the crystal tray.

"Is that it?"

I looked at him without expression.

Lewis leaned back against the sofa.

"Clarissa just got back to New York, and suddenly you can't wait to show me this attitude?"

His eyes narrowed.

"Are you trying to punish me because she's back?"

I almost smiled.

Even now, he believed everything revolved around him.

I placed my calculator back into my handbag.

"Mr. Delgado, you're misunderstanding the situation."

He stared at me.

"This isn't jealousy. It isn't revenge. And it certainly isn't some desperate attempt to win your attention."

I paused.

"It's simply the end of a contract."

His fingers tightened around the cigarette.

"Our financial obligations have been fulfilled. The Fox family's debt is settled, and my services are no longer required."

I met his gaze.

"As of today, our professional relationship is officially terminated."

Lewis's expression turned frighteningly cold.

"You really think you can just..."

A soft electronic chime interrupted him.

The fingerprint lock at the penthouse entrance clicked open.

Both of us turned toward the foyer.

The heavy front door swung inward.

A young woman stood in the doorway.

She wore an elegant white designer dress, her long dark hair falling over her shoulders in loose waves.

A limited-edition Hermès Birkin hung from her wrist.

Her makeup was delicate, her expression innocent, and every detail of her appearance seemed carefully arranged to create the impression of effortless purity.

Clarissa Simmons.

The precious daughter of the Simmons family, whose connections with the Italian Mafia had made her one of the most sought-after women in New York's criminal elite.

She was also the woman Lewis had never managed to forget.

Three years ago, Clarissa had left for Italy.

Three years ago, Lewis had brought me into this penthouse.

And now, on the very day our arrangement ended, she'd returned.

Her gaze moved slowly across the living room.

First, she noticed the shredded invoice scattered across the marble floor.

Then the calculator in my handbag.

Finally, her eyes settled on me.

For the briefest moment, something unreadable flashed across her face.

But it disappeared almost immediately.

"Lewis?"

Her voice was soft and hesitant.

She remained near the doorway, tightening her fingers around the handle of her expensive handbag.

"Did I come at a bad time?"

Lewis immediately crushed his cigarette into the ashtray.

The cold, threatening expression he'd worn moments earlier vanished.

He rose from the sofa.

"Clarissa."

His voice softened in a way I hadn't heard in years.

He crossed the room toward her.

As he passed me, he deliberately slammed his shoulder into mine.

The impact made me stumble half a step.

But Lewis didn't stop.

He didn't even look back.

His attention was already fixed on the woman standing in the doorway.