CHAPTER 1
I had spent ten years rescuing girls sacrificed to the river god.
Then, on the morning of my wedding, my parents drugged me, tied stones to my feet, and placed me on the offering raft.
My brother needed a bride, they said. Her life mattered more than mine.
But the eighteen women I had saved were waiting beneath the water.
This time, they saved me.
And together, we decided to give the county exactly what it claimed to worship:
a river god who demanded sons.
-- - -- - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - -- - - -- - - - -- - - - - - - - - -- - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - -
When I entered the banquet hall, Matteo was already crossing the lawn with Bianca Falcone on his arm.
I walked to the window, where I could see the private helipad below.
Matteo took off the custom black cloak that symbolized his status as Don and carefully draped it over Bianca Falcone's thin shoulders, shielding her from the cold night wind.
Then he said a few words to the bodyguard beside him.
The bodyguard retrieved a gown encrusted with countless jewels from the back of the private helicopter and presented it to Bianca Falcone.
It was the most prestigious ceremonial gown a Mafia family could commission, a year of work in gold thread and rare pearls.
Matteo leaned close to Bianca Falcone's ear and whispered something. Her face flushed instantly, and she stood on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek.
I had seen that gown once, in the Family's book of ceremonial protocols. Back then, we had just found our footing, barely escaping rival organizations that wanted us dead.
I'd been flipping through the heavy volume, pointing at one of its worn pages.
"Matteo, when we build our own organization someday, will you have a gown like this made for me? It's the Mafia's most solemn and exclusive mark of devotion."
He'd been weathered and hardened back then, his eyes filled with nothing but schemes and calculation.
He hadn't even glanced at it. "The mob survives on guns and influence. This kind of thing is useless. It's a waste of resources."
I never brought it up again. But now, the exclusive devotion I hadn't dared to ask for, he'd given willingly to someone else.
What he had called wasteful for me had become effortless for her.
The men in the private hall watched the two figures below disappear into the distance, their voices tinged with envy.
"The Don really does care about the Princess. Every single day, he flies her around himself."
"And when she first arrived and didn't know any of the Mafia's rules or protocols, the Don walked her through everything himself. He taught her how to read people and find her footing in the black market. Everyone in the territory remembers it."
"Every day?" I echoed.
"That's right. Never missed a day."
A sharp pain stabbed through my chest.
I thought back to the night last week when remnants of an enemy faction ambushed our port. The defenses collapsed, and I was left alone to rally every available soldier and hold the line.
My arm had been torn by shrapnel, and I'd sent him three urgent distress messages in a row.
His only reply was, "You know the port defenses better than anyone. Handle it yourself. I'm dealing with something important."
And then, three days ago, there'd been a power struggle within the Family.
The old-guard capos had led the charge, pressuring me to hand over control of logistics. Cornered on all sides, I'd reached out to him for help.
His response was dismissive. "You've been with me for years. You can't handle something this small? Deal with it yourself."
I never made a fuss. I never clung to him. All these years, I understood how brutal his rise had been, how many times he'd cheated death to get where he was.
I'd believed that everything keeping him busy was for the organization, for our future.
But the truth? The "important business" he'd mentioned was just spending time with another girl. My tears fell before I could stop them.
Below me, the city glittered. I felt none of it.
one of the men rushed over, phone in hand. "Urgent call from the Don."
The moment I picked up, Matteo's furious voice came roaring through.
"Where are you? The estate is completely unguarded, and the Family's logistics are a mess!"
For ten years on the run, I had been his only escape route and the unshakable force at his back.
When assassins came for him, I'd shielded him with my own body. When he lost a power struggle, I'd poured every cent and every connection I had into turning things around.
When he finally became Don, it was I who kept the Family's entire logistics operation running, navigating the politics among the capos.
He never bothered with the Family's day-to-day affairs or the feuds between factions. Because he was certain that no matter when he looked back, I would always be there, always cleaning up every mess he left behind.
I answered slowly. "I'm looking at my brooch design."
He scoffed. Then came a forceful command.
"Get back here now. I'm heading overseas tomorrow to negotiate an arms deal. Have all the classified files, routes, and personnel assignments ready before I leave."
He had built his reign around one certainty: I would always clean up after him. I said nothing and hung up.
One of the men handed me the ruby he'd fetched. I turned the flawless pigeon's blood ruby over in my fingers, satisfied.
After entrusting it to a jeweler to craft into a brooch, I ordered my men to take me to the castle.
