Chapter 3

The wine dripped down my cheeks, staining my white dress red.

I stared at Isla in disbelief. She wore a sweet smile, but a vicious glint danced in her eyes.

"Oops. My hand slipped." She spoke loudly on purpose.

Whispers broke out instantly.

"Serves her right. She's just a trashy mistress."

Once she was sure no one was paying close attention, Isla dropped her mask entirely.

"What? Feeling wronged?" She rolled her wrist. "A cheap whore who hides in the shadows deserves to stand here?"

"A pathetic little charity case like you... you only belong in the gutter."

Her voice was acidic. "Now that the Don has a Donna, an old dog like you should know when to piss off."

I was so furious I laughed. But Isla didn't give me a chance to fight back.

She suddenly let out a piercing scream, tore the neckline of her own dress, and threw herself hard against the marble pillar.

"Ah! Alessia is trying to kill me!"

Blood instantly spilled from Isla's forehead as she collapsed.

"Alessia!" A dark, icy voice exploded from behind me.

Vincent rushed over, scooping Isla up. She cried on command. "Vincent, I know I'll never compare to Alessia. I'm useless."

She viciously slapped herself twice across the face. "I shouldn't have delusionally hoped for your love!"

Vincent caught her hands, enraged. "Who said that to you?"

Isla bit her lip. "How could someone as inexperienced as me be a match for her? Just let me go."

"I'm terrified I'll be assassinated in some dark corner of Chicago, not even knowing how I died."

Her voice trembled perfectly. Vincent frowned, his glare lethal as it locked onto me. "Explain!"

I slowly wiped the wine from my eyes, letting the cold reality sink in. "You should ask your lovely wife what she said."

"Don!" Isla shrieked. "I did throw wine at her, but only because she threatened my Family! She said she'll wipe the Vance Family off the map! Please, don't hurt them!"

My eyes burned red. "You're lying! It was you—"

"Enough." Vincent cut me off coldly. "Alessia, I've spoiled you too much. Do you think because you've done things for me, I can't touch you?"

I gave a hollow laugh, my eyes stinging. "So how are you going to back up your wife?"

He took a slow step toward me. I felt his fingers brush my neck, and then—click.

The crest that marked me as a core member of the Devaro Family was snapped off.

The sudden emptiness on my chest made me shudder. It was the mark he had personally fastened around my neck a decade ago. Now, he was ripping it away.

Vincent rubbed the crest between his fingers. He turned to his men:

"Alessia attacked the Donna. That's treason. Throw her in the hole."

Gasps echoed around us. The hole was the Devaro Family's personal hell, meant for breaking traitors. Dark, damp, and freezing. Most people who went in never came out.

"Boss..." Marco hesitated.

"You've been very bad, Alessia." Vincent's voice was devoid of emotion. "Go in and think about what you've done. Once you get your head straight, I'll put the crest back on you myself."

I gave a sarcastic half-smile, pushing his guards away. "I can walk."

I'd keep my last shred of dignity for myself.

The sudden emptiness seemed to unsettle Vincent. He frowned, struck by an illusion that he would never catch me again.

Just as he stepped forward, Isla quickly hooked her arm through his.