Chapter 2

Sophia's POV

Bianca's smile died on her face.

The other women exchanged uneasy glances, whispering among themselves.

Bianca stared at the black card for several seconds, then looked at me. Her expression shifted from shock to sudden understanding.

"Oh." She visibly relaxed, even laughed a little. "I get it. You're picking this up FOR her. Mrs. Salvatore's maid, right?"

The other women murmured their agreement.

"Of course. The help."

"Like SHE could ever be Mrs. Salvatore."

Bianca looked at me with patronizing pity. "Well, good for you, Sophia. At least you found work. Working for the Salvatores beats being homeless, I guess."

I looked at her and rolled my eyes.

This woman hadn't changed. Still as self-righteous as the day I caught her screwing Vincent in the bridal suite. She'd had the nerve to say, "You're just too BORING. That's why Vincent came to me."

"I'm not the help, Bianca," I said calmly. "I AM Mrs. Salvatore. Believe it or don't."

Silence.

Then even shriller laughter erupted.

Bianca's expression morphed from pity to contempt. "Do you have ANY idea what happens to people who pretend to be Mrs. Salvatore?"

"Last year some drunk bitch in Brooklyn claimed she was Salvatore's mistress." She lowered her voice just enough for everyone to hear. "They found her in a Queens warehouse a week later—tongue cut out."

"I heard worse," another woman said. "Someone disrespected Mrs. Salvatore once. They cut off his fingers one by one, then—"

She made a slashing motion across her throat.

I knew about that one. He'd gotten drunk and tried to grope me. Lorenzo's possessiveness was pathological—he couldn't tolerate anyone touching what was his.

"Mr. Salvatore has zero tolerance for anyone who disrespects his wife," Bianca said, her eyes locked on mine. "It's a death sentence. Sophia, you can still take it back. Right now."

"I don't need to take anything back." My tone stayed level. "I'm telling the truth."

Bianca's patience snapped. She laughed coldly. "Then PROVE it."

"What?"

"The real Mrs. Salvatore has a tattoo—the Don did it himself." She pointed to her left shoulder. "Right here. Roses and flames. If you're really her, take off your coat. Show us."

That tattoo. Lorenzo had designed it for our first anniversary. As he'd held the tattoo gun, he'd whispered in my ear, "This rose blooms only for me. And these flames... they'll burn anyone who dares touch you."

"I don't need to prove anything to you."

"Hear that? She REFUSES!" Bianca's voice went shrill. "Because she doesn't HAVE one!"

She yanked out her phone and hit speakerphone.

Two rings.

"Baby? What's wrong?" Vincent's voice came through clear.

"You'll NEVER guess who I just ran into," Bianca said. "Your pathetic ex-girlfriend Sophia. She's claiming to be Salvatore's WIFE!"

Silence. Then explosive laughter.

"What? Sophia?" Vincent could barely breathe. "Salvatore's WIFE? Jesus Christ, that's the most ridiculous shit I've ever heard. Sophia, have you really sunk this low? Making up lies for sympathy?"

"I've heard about Salvatore's wife," he said, his voice dripping contempt. "Classy, sophisticated, old money. Nothing like you... what's the word... TRASHY."

Bianca burst out laughing. "Babe, you're so right. But I was thinking—if Sophia's really that desperate, maybe we should help? We need a nanny."

"A nanny?" Vincent's tone went syrupy sweet. "Not a bad idea. For old times' sake, Sophia, you can work for us. Room and board. Five grand a month."

"But," his voice turned ice cold, "you need to stop this Mrs. Salvatore bullshit. That's suicide. The Five Families gala is in three days. The REAL Mrs. Salvatore will be there. When she finds out someone's been impersonating her? I can't save you."

I smiled. "Thanks for the warning. But I'll be there myself."

The laughter stopped dead.

Then came back sharper, meaner.

"There? Sophia, you won't even make it through the DOOR! Black-tie, invitation only—family ONLY!"

"I don't need security clearance," I said. "I'm HOSTING it."

"Hosting?" Vincent's voice cracked. "Are you OUT OF YOUR FUCKING MIND? That's a SALVATORE event!"

"Exactly. I'm Lorenzo Salvatore's wife."

"Jesus Christ." His voice went deadly quiet. "Listen carefully, Sophia. If you show up there spouting this crazy shit, you're going to die. Slowly."

"I know what my husband's capable of. Thanks for the concern."

"Bianca, don't let her leave," Vincent snapped through the phone. "Get security. Impersonating Mrs. Salvatore is a felony. Hold her. I'm on my way."

Bianca hung up and lunged for my arm. "You're not going ANYWHERE!"

I sidestepped. She stumbled into empty air.

"SECURITY!" She threw herself at me again, blocking my path. "Stop her! She's impersonating—"

I shoved her aside.

Bianca screamed, crashing backward into two other women. They went down in a tangle of Hermès bags and Louboutin heels.

The saleswoman rushed over with the packaged dress, bowing deeply. "Mrs. Salvatore, it's been an honor."

I took the dress and walked to the door.

"See you in three days."

"You think you can just WALK OUT?" Bianca scrambled up, screaming. "Vincent's coming! Where the hell do you think you're GOING?"

The door swung shut behind me.

---

The black Mercedes idled at the curb. Marco opened the door, his eyes flicking to the dress.

"All good, ma'am?"

"Perfect."

I slid into the car. Manhattan blurred past the window. The memory hit me—five years ago, my wedding day. Rain pouring down. Standing outside the bridal suite, hearing those sounds.

I'd pushed the door open. Bianca's bridesmaid dress bunched around her waist. Vincent's hand on her hip.

"Sophia—" No shame on Bianca's face. Just triumph. "Perfect timing. Vincent and I are together now. We're in love. REAL love."

Vincent looked at me, dead-eyed. "Sorry, Sophia. But I love Bianca."

The man who'd sworn to protect me forever died right there.

I didn't cry. Didn't scream. Just took off the wedding dress and left for the airport.

My father had been calm. "There's a man in Naples. The Salvatore family. Very powerful. Could be good for you."

"I don't care," I'd said, voice hollow. "I just need to leave."

Back then, I thought marrying Lorenzo would be just a transaction.

I was wrong.

He gave me everything. His protection. His devotion. Even a son.