Chapter 1
Three years ago, my fiance Marco Ferrante walked out on our engagement for his mistress Vivienne Salas — and now they're both back, kicking in my door and screaming that my baby isn't his.
He's right. It's not his.
It belongs to the most dangerous man in Verrano.
And Marco just put his boot through the Devil's only heir.
I was in my private jewelry studio, leaning back on the couch, one hand resting on my belly.
Eight months along. The baby had been kicking all morning.
"Baby, when you're born, Mama will design you something no one else in the world will ever have — a christening piece, just for you." I smiled to myself.
BANG —
The studio door was kicked in from outside and slammed hard into the wall.
I jolted upright, arms flying to my stomach.
Two figures walked in through the glare.
The moment I saw who it was, my blood went cold.
Marco.
Three years ago, at our engagement party, in front of every name that mattered in Verrano, he'd walked out on me for another woman. Made me a joke overnight.
And the woman on his arm right now — the same one who'd made him run — was Vivienne Salas.
"Well, well." Marco looked down at me, eyes locking onto my belly. "Three years, Chiara, and you're living the good life." His mouth twisted. "I figured you'd have thrown yourself off a bridge after I cut you loose. But look at you — knocked up with some bastard's kid. Shameless."
I breathed in. Breathed out. "Marco. This is my private studio. Get out."
"Get out?" He laughed, dropped Vivienne's arm, and crossed the room. One kick sent the coffee table over. Glass and design sketches hit the floor.
"Stop playing innocent. Everyone in Verrano knows you're the woman I threw away. Now you're sitting here with that belly — what's the plan, Chiara? Pop the kid out and shake down some rich old man?"
Vivienne covered her mouth with a soft laugh — all sweetness, all poison. "Don't be mean, Marco. Maybe she just wants back in. You know Don Aldo cares more about bloodline than anything. If she found some random man and tried to pass the baby off as yours—"
"She wouldn't dare." Marco shoved his finger in my face. "Whose kid is it, Chiara? Say it. And if you even try to pin it on me, I will kill you."
I almost laughed.
He'd been gone three years. Running around outside the city, completely cut off from everything happening inside the family. He had no idea what the last three years had looked like.
I pushed myself up off the couch and met his eyes. "Relax, Marco. That baby isn't yours. A man like you doesn't deserve to be anyone's father."
His face went tight.
"But the baby is a Ferrante," I said. "And belongs to a man you will never be stupid enough to cross."
"A Ferrante?" He stared for a second, then his face twisted. "You dirty bitch. You went and slept with some nobody from the outer family? You think that gets you over me? In this family, I'm the one who matters. I'm the heir."
He didn't believe it. He couldn't let himself think in that direction. His own arrogance had already done the work for me.
"Fine. If you want to drag the Ferrante name through the dirt with this bastard, then I'll clean it up myself."
He raised his hand and slapped me hard across the face.
