Chapter 3

Adriana's POV

“I think it’s safe to say this union doesn’t need to happen anymore.”

That was me, trying to end things peacefully, the way you dissolve a bad arrangement before blood gets spilled. But the heir apparent standing in front of me clearly didn’t get the message. He thought I was playing coy.

“Quit the act, Adriana,” he scoffed. “You think I haven’t seen this trick before? Running hot and cold to reel me in? You know how many women in this city would kill to marry into the Falcone name?”

Finding him ridiculously amusing, I couldn’t help but laugh. “Mr. Falcone, I honestly don’t care what those women want. I just don’t want anything to do with you. And as for that precious bloodline you can’t stop talking about…” I gave a dry chuckle. “Please.”

That was enough to send the entire dressing room into chaos.

“Oh my god! Did she just spit on his blood to his face? She’s completely out of her mind!”

“No kidding! Lorenzo Falcone is every woman’s dream in this city. This idiot doesn’t know how lucky she is!”

“If it were me, I wouldn’t care what dress I had to wear. Getting the Falcone name is all that matters!”

The room buzzed with judgment, but none of it mattered to me.

Sure, the Falcones held their territory here in New York, and their rackets ran clean behind hotels and shipping lines that stretched across the country.

But what good was laundered cash when it was just numbers on a ledger?

Because when it came to real power, money folded.

I still remembered how Lorenzo’s father, Don Salvatore Falcone himself, bent low for me across a quiet table.

The man was drenched in sweat inside thirty minutes, afraid every word he said might cost him the whole Family.

And now, the empire he begged so hard to protect was about to be burned down by his own son.

“Adriana, I’m asking you one last time. Are you really calling off the union?” he asked.

I met his eyes with steady resolve and nodded firmly. “Absolutely.”

He clearly didn’t expect me to be so decisive. His face darkened instantly.

But before he could answer, the courier jumped in. “Don’t trouble yourself, Mr. Falcone. I’ll square it with your father. She’s a nobody off the street, after all. You’re better off without her.” Bianca’s fingers grazed the pearls at her throat, and her laugh came a half-beat too quick.

Lorenzo hesitated, nodding slightly, though something uncertain flickered in his eyes.

“But… the invitations have already gone out. Every made man in the city is coming. If we call it off now, it stains the Family’s honor,” he worried.

Bianca pressed a hand to her chest. “Mr. Falcone, don’t you worry. I’m still standing right here, aren’t I?”

Catching her meaning, Lorenzo’s eyes lit up. “You mean…”

She nodded, practically glowing. “We go on with the wedding. I’ll be the bride.”

Lorenzo looked like he could weep from gratitude. “Bianca… thank you. You’re really saving the whole thing.”

“Don’t worry,” she said sweetly, her fingers still at those pearls. “Once it’s done, I know your Family will take good care of me.”

Watching this circus unfold, I let out a cold laugh. “Alright, that’s enough. Mr. Falcone, now that your little wedding disaster is patched over, isn’t it time we discussed what you owe me?”

Then I pointed toward the trash can not far from us. “That gown was stitched by hand, by my own people, just for today. You owe me an explanation and compensation.”

The moment I finished, the room burst into laughter again.

“She must’ve lost her mind. It’s just a dress!”

“Seriously, the Falcones could buy her a hundred, no, a thousand gowns and not even blink.”

I swept my eyes around the room, voice turning to ice.