Chapter 1

The year my boyfriend was framed by a rival family and fled to Porto Nero, I followed without looking back.

I lived with him in a three-hundred-dollar basement, lost two children working back-to-back shifts day and night.

When I took a knife for him and nearly lost my life, Dante Morano's tears were scalding.

I gently wiped them away, with only one request.

"When you rise again, will you come to my family and ask for my hand?"

He promised.

Over six years, Dante rebuilt his strength and took down every rival family.

He rose to become the undisputed boss of Porto Nero's waterfront operations.

And I, for the eighty-ninth time, begged his right-hand man to get a message through.

"Are we still getting married?"

He was busy rotating through one sit-down and back-room meeting after another, and gave the same answer: "Just wait a little longer."

I said fine. I wouldn't distract him anymore.

Until the day I stepped out and ran into a couple of local reporters who'd been sniffing around the family. They barely glanced at me before bolting in another direction.

"That woman's a fraud—the real Mrs. Morano just checked into the OB-GYN clinic."

Stunned, I followed them.

Outside the private hospital that charged a hundred thousand a night, Dante had his arm around my foster sister, her belly slightly swollen.

Behind them stood my parents, whom I hadn't seen in six years, and my best friend.

Looking at those familiar faces one by one—

I felt nothing but distance.

So he had gone to my family to propose after all. Just not for me.

Fine. I'd grown sick of the wind off the docks anyway.

……

The camera flashes were blinding. The crowd shoved me to the outer edge.

I accidentally hit a metal railing, and the old wound at my waist ached deep in the bone.

My best friend, Camille, was the first to spot me. Her voice caught.

"Vivian—why are you… here?"

Just last week she'd been on the phone with me, pitying my six years of waiting.

Hearing the commotion, Dante turned and saw me in the distance. Panic flashed across his face.

"Vivian, don't misunderstand—I'll explain everything when we get home!"

He said this, but the hand resting on Sienna's waist didn't loosen one bit.

And my own parents, whom I hadn't seen in years, opened their mouths several times before finally saying:

"Vivian, Sienna is pregnant. Don't make a scene."

But when I'd had my miscarriage, they couldn't even be bothered to make the trip to Porto Nero.

Silence filled my ears.

My name had been called three times, but not a single person actually cared about me.

My knuckles turned white from clenching. Then, suddenly, I smiled.

"There's a happy occasion in the family—how come nobody told me?"

It was Sienna who answered.

"The first three months the baby isn't stable. We had to keep it secret."

"But sister, you've been pregnant twice yourself. You should have more experience than me."

Around her neck hung the Cuore Rosso—a legendary ruby worth a hundred million.

Dante had won it at a charity auction on the Amalfi Coast.

I'd seen it on the news and assumed it was meant for me.

Dante murmured from beside her, "That's enough. Stop."

Those two children—lost on the road while I was working extra jobs to expand Dante's network and buy gifts for his associates.

They were twins.

I still remember the wind off the harbor that December. Bitterly cold.

I pressed my hand against my empty belly, and my heart felt like it had a gaping hole, cold wind howling through.

Before me, I looked at the five people across the street.

One road between us, yet it felt as vast as a galaxy.

"Dante Morano, can you look me in the eye and say you've done right by me?"

The moment I finished, my parents were the first to scold me.

"How dare you speak to Dante that way! He's taken care of our family all these years—how has he wronged you?"

Even my best friend Camille frowned.

"Vivian, that was uncalled for."

"You've been frail all these years, oversensitive and paranoid. Dante is a normal man—he gets tired too!"

Only Dante flinched, singed by the grief in my eyes. He moved to come closer.

But Sienna let out a soft gasp, and his feet stopped.

"Vivian, people are watching. Making a scene would be ugly."

Dante said I looked ugly like this.

But was what he'd done behind my back any prettier?

Sienna nestled into his arms, whispering softly.

"Sister, please don't make things difficult for Dante."

"It wasn't easy for him to claw his way back to this position. Surely you don't want him to suffer alongside you again?"

My chest ached so badly I could taste blood at the back of my throat.

"Fine. I won't make things difficult for any of you."

But as I turned to leave, Dante ordered his bodyguards to restrain me.

He rubbed his temples, as though I were being impossibly childish.

"Take her back to the villa. She doesn't leave without my permission."

As I was shoved into the car, Sienna flashed me a triumphant smile.

A smile that said: you've lost everything.

Back at the villa, I locked myself in my room.

The housekeeper knocked again and again, pleading with me to come out and eat.

I stared at the things scattered across the floor.

The photographs—every memory Dante and I had shared over the years.

The receipts—monthly expense statements I'd faithfully sent home.

The matching friendship bracelet—a token of the sisterhood Camille and I once shared.

After I burned the last one, my tears had dried too.

Finally, I dialed a number.

"Six years ago you asked me to marry you. Does the offer still stand?"

Silence for a few seconds, then a restrained but unmistakably elated male voice.

"Three days. I'll come for you."