Chapter 2

I signaled the butler to leave first.

Cassian’s possessiveness was terrifying; if he knew I was being harassed by this trash, he would kill them without hesitation.

I turned to walk toward the waiting black Rolls-Royce, but Vincent chased after me, blocking my path.

"Alessia! Wait! You're really getting into a Vitiello car?" Vincent grabbed my arm. "Who did you sell yourself to?"

I pulled against his grip, and the movement caused my coat collar to fall open slightly. His gaze suddenly snapped to my pale neck.

The massive ruby necklace resting against my collarbone was dazzling in the sunset.

Francesca rushed over, clutching Vincent's arm. "That’s the 'Heart of Blood and Tears'! Vincent! I saw it in a magazine! Rumor has it Vitiello gave it to his wife as a birthday gift—it's priceless!"

"But how does this woman have it?"

She seemed to seize upon some vital clue, pointing at me and laughing with malicious excitement.

"The jig is up! Vincent, look at her hands!" Francesca sneered, her expression twisted with glee. "Everyone knows the esteemed Donna of the Vitiello family must wear the 'Blood Oath Ring' on her finger, symbolizing absolute authority over the family! But this woman has nothing on her hands!"

I paused, blinking, and instinctively glanced down at my own hands.

The Blood Oath Ring?

I'd left it in the safe. It was too flashy—not really my style.

"I knew it! This must be a high-quality fake! Or maybe she rented it for an auction just to pretend she's someone important!" Francesca rolled her eyes, tugging viciously on Vincent's sleeve.

Vincent seemed instantly convinced by this "logical" explanation. In his world, it was impossible for me to be the feared Donna.

"Alessia, you really went to great lengths to put on a show for me." He stared intently at my necklace. "You dare wear such a fake and impersonate a Vitiello? If that madman finds out, you'll get us all killed!"

"Take it off!" he growled, reaching out to rip the jewelry from my neck. "Instead of embarrassing yourself with this trash, give it to me to dispose of!"

I didn't have the strength to break his grip.

This necklace was fastened around my neck by Cassian himself in the family sanctuary, the clasp engraved with our vows. No one else was worthy to touch it.

"Cassian gave this to me..." I said calmly.

He squeezed my jaw, bringing his face close to my ear. "Alessia, you aren't worthy to speak his name."

I twisted my wrist, easily dodging his dirty hand, and delivered a crisp backhand slap across his face.

Vincent was stunned, clutching his cheek, looking at me in disbelief.

Before he could explode, I spoke coldly. "Touch it? Do you think you're worthy?"

Vincent's face turned the color of liver. But he had to maintain his "dignity," especially in front of so many onlookers. To regain control, he took a deep breath, pulled out a checkbook from his suit pocket, and scribbled a number.

"Enough! Stop acting!" He tore the check out and shoved it into my hand, like dismissing a persistent beggar. "Here is fifty thousand dollars. That's my walking-around money for the week. It's enough for you to buy a pile of decent real gold and silver."

He straightened his tie, recovering his arrogant, charitable facade.

"Take the money and get lost. Buy some actual jewelry, and stop wearing rented fakes. If word gets out that you're my ex-wife, where would I put my face?"

I looked at the check in my hand and almost laughed out loud.

In Sicily, the black card Cassian gave me had no limit. Fifty thousand? That wouldn't even cover the white roses he sent me daily.

I took the check, slowly and elegantly tore it into shreds, and threw it in his face.

"Vincent, your 'walking-around money' isn't even enough to cover my husband's flower budget."

His face flushed a deep purple.

I turned to leave, but he grabbed my wrist again, his grip tight enough to almost crush my bone.

"Alessia, you're turning down my money? Who are you performing for?"

"Let go," my voice was ice.

"Husband?" He scoffed. "Does he deliver pizzas in Brooklyn? Or is he like you, cleaning up trash on this boat?"

He let go, a smug look returning to his face.

"Fine, keep pretending." He pulled Francesca close, announcing loudly, "In three days, the four families are holding a charity gala in Manhattan. The mysterious Godmother of the Vitiello family will be there. That is a world people like you can never touch, but I can take you to see what true power looks like."

He frowned in disgust, pointing at my coat. "But you'll need to change out of these rags. Go to Fifth Avenue and buy a decent gown. Don't embarrass me. I don't want people thinking I brought a beggar."

The Four Families Gala?

I almost chuckled. That was just a bone Cassian threw to the lesser families to celebrate my pregnancy.

"No need," I refused flatly. "I have no interest in your 'high society'."

Rejected again, Vincent's last shred of patience vanished.

"Fine! Great!" He yelled, exasperated, shouting at his equally snobbish entourage. "If she doesn't want to go, forget it! I'll get Frankie the most expensive gown there is!"

I didn't bother arguing.

Before getting into the car, I glanced back at him one last time.

"I hope in three days, you'll still be smiling like that, Vincent."

The car door closed, and the Rolls-Royce glided silently away from the pier.

I leaned back into the leather seat and closed my eyes.

The memories of that night five years ago flooded back. It was the coldest day of my life.

I had pushed open the office door to see Vincent and Francesca entangled. He looked up, his face devoid of guilt.

"Perfect timing. The divorce papers—sign them."

"Alessia, it's been a year, and you haven't produced a child. I need an heir, and you can't give me one."

Francesca hid behind him, flashing a victorious smile.

That same night, I called my father.

"That arranged marriage in Sicily... if the offer still stands, I accept."

I thought it was exile.

I never imagined it would be my coronation.

In an ancient, dim cathedral in Palermo, Cassian Vitiello—the Godfather who made the North American underworld tremble—knelt before me on one knee.

When he placed the Blood Oath Ring on my finger, his hands were trembling slightly.

A year later, I gave birth to Matteo.

Now, I was pregnant with our twins.

It turned out that my inability to conceive with Vincent had nothing to do with me.

If it weren't for accompanying Cassian back to handle family business, I would never have stepped foot in New York again. And I certainly wouldn't have given an idiot like Vincent the chance to perform in front of me.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, interrupting my thoughts.

A text from Cassian: [Where are you? Matteo just asked if you went to buy burgers or if you forgot him.

I smiled and replied: [Almost there. Tell him I'm bringing the best burgers in New York.]

My hand rested gently on my slightly bumping belly.

Those foolish memories... let them die in that rainy night five years ago.