Chapter 1

I was the Falcone heir's sweet, lovesick woman. Everyone in the capital's inner circle of crime families knew Arthur Falcone adored me beyond measure.

The day I found out I was pregnant, I rushed to find him, giddy with excitement. Instead, I heard him say to his crew:

"Why would I ever actually marry some nobody like her? I only went after her because I lost a bet!"

His crew egged him on:

"Then explain the little hair tie on your wrist. You wear that thing every single day!"

Arthur yanked the hair tie off his wrist and tossed it on the floor.

"You guys know how she is. If I don't wear it, she cries. Honestly? After this long, it's exhausting."

His crew didn't buy it, so he pulled out a wedding invitation and threw it down in front of them:

"I'm getting married next week. It's an alliance marriage with the Valente family's second Winslow, Adriana Valente."

Later, I got rid of the baby and vanished from his world. He was the one left crying, searching everywhere for me.

——

I stood outside the door of the back room, the hospital report crumpled in my fist, my whole body turning to ice.

The social club was dim, cigar smoke curling under the low-hanging lights, and through the gap in the door I could hear every word landing like a sentence passed at a sit-down.

Arthur's crew passed the invitation around, studying it closely:

"Well, well. The bride's name really is your first love — Adriana Valente!"

"Arthur, she only left the country in the first place because of your little crybaby girlfriend. Turns out you two never lost touch all these years!"

"No wonder you're tossing the hair tie you wore for five years. The queen is coming home!"

One of them picked the hair tie up off the floor and turned it over in his hands.

"Only your innocent little girlfriend would give a gift this childish and cheap. Remember the watch Adriana casually gave you back in the day? That thing was worth more than most men earn in a lifetime!"

"Arthur, I'll just toss this piece of junk in the trash for you!"

The words barely left his mouth before Arthur frowned and reached out to stop him. But when he looked up, he saw me standing outside the door.

He froze mid-reach. His expression shifted, caught somewhere between guilt and irritation, and he pulled his hand back. The signet ring on his right hand caught the light but did not move. His voice came out stiff and unnatural:

"Theo, what are you doing here? You hate places like this. You never come to the club."

I gave him one look, then walked straight past him and snatched the hair tie from his friend's hand.

The room went quiet. Not the easy quiet of a pause in conversation. The quiet of men watching something they knew better than to touch.

That hair tie they called cheap and childish was something my Sinclair bought me. She'd been bedridden and sick, but she dragged herself up on her cane, walked all the way to the little store at the edge of the neighborhood, and picked out this hair tie with the tiny star pattern.

She told me that after she was gone, she'd become a star in the sky and keep watching over me. She told me not to be sad.

That hair tie held every last drop of my Sinclair's love. It was the final thing the person I loved most in this world ever gave me.

The day Arthur and I made things official, I gave it to him like it was the most precious thing I owned. I told him the story behind the little star hair tie.

I still remembered the way he slipped it onto his wrist so carefully, and the solemn promise he made.

But he forgot first.

I grabbed back the hair tie, already gray with dust, and cleaned it off gently before sliding it onto my own wrist.

The elastic was faded and stretched out, barely holding its shape.

My eyes burned red and tears pooled at the corners, but I never once looked at Arthur again. I wound the ribbon around two fingers and pulled it tight against my palm.

He couldn't stand the look on his own face. His voice turned impatient:

"Crying. Always crying. That's all you ever do! I was just joking around with my friends. Do you really have to make such a big deal out of everything?"

"Can you quit the waterworks for once? You act like being with me is some kind of suffering!"

His crew saw the look on Arthur's face and scrambled to smooth things over:

"Don't get the wrong idea! He was just messing around with us. He's worn that hair tie for five years. You think he'd actually throw it away?"

Chapter 2

I said nothing. I walked straight toward Arthur.

Our eyes met. There was a flicker of panic in his gaze, but far more than that, there was irritation at the way I'd been acting tonight.

Arthur pressed his lips into a thin line, his expression darkening.

I knew that look. He was on the verge of losing his temper, waiting for me to fold the way I always did.

But not this time.

I stood in front of him and held his gaze. The moment I parted my lips, he smirked and caught my hand, already assuming I was about to apologize.

Instead, I pointed at the alliance ceremony invitation on the table and smiled, bitter to the bone:

"Arthur. Congratulations on your wedding."

Before the tears could spill, I wrenched my hand free and turned to leave.

The smirk on his face froze. Humiliation twisted into fury, and he swept the invitation off the table with one sharp motion, his voice cold:

"Bianca, are you done? There's a limit to how much of a scene you can make."

"When did you become so difficult? You were never like this before."

"Think about it. Besides being obedient and agreeable, what do you actually have going for you?"

I went rigid. Something sharp drove itself through my chest.

Everyone in his circle had always said I wasn't good enough for Arthur. I'd never cared.

He was the one who pursued me. I hadn't even known he was Falcone blood.

The heir apparent to one of the most powerful Families in the city had hidden his name to chase an ordinary girl from the old Moretti neighborhood. It wasn't until our second year together that I stumbled onto the truth. A bodyguard slipped up. A black car idled too long outside my building. And then the pieces clicked into a shape I couldn't unsee.

I tried to walk away from him the same day. I knew the distance between our worlds would only lead to a dead end.

He left without a word. Then, in the middle of the night, he stood below my building in the pouring rain, shouting my name.

I could hear how drunk he was. He'd had far too much.

He was soaked through, shaking from the cold. His thin dress shirt clung to him, streaked with blood.

But his voice rang out into the rain, fierce and bright:

"Bianca, I've already convinced my family. Will you face whatever comes with me?"

The puddles at his feet had turned red. I didn't know what had happened after he left, didn't know which sit-down had gone wrong or whose hands had drawn that blood, but I could see exactly what he'd gone through to get back to me.

In that moment, I threw all caution aside, ran downstairs, and threw myself into his arms.

I'd always believed we were in love. Everyone could see how much Arthur adored me.

He would start planning for our anniversaries weeks in advance. He said love should be displayed in the most extravagant ways possible. He said he wanted the whole world to know.

Whenever I was feeling low, he'd whisk me away on a spontaneous trip, watching the sunrise and sunset with me.

He remembered every little thing I liked and surprised me again and again.

I thought he was the person who loved me most in this world, second only to my Sinclair.

But all of it was a lie. He'd only pursued me on a bet among the Capos' sons, a wager to see whether his first love would get jealous.

And now she had. Now they were binding two Families together, and I was the loose thread being cut.

The grief I'd been holding back broke through. Tears streamed down my face.

Just as I turned to go, Arthur grabbed my arm. His signet ring pressed cold against my skin. His eyes locked onto the report in my hand, and his voice turned sharp:

"What were you doing at the hospital? Are you sick? Why didn't you tell me?"

My breath caught. I crushed the report tighter in my fist, but my voice came out flat and cold:

Chapter 3

"It's nothing. You mentioned last night that you wanted a baby, so I went to the hospital first thing this morning for a checkup. Getting a head start on the pre-conception stuff."

The truth was, when Arthur suddenly brought up wanting a Heir of our own last night, my heart had nearly burst with joy.

I'd already sensed something over the past few days, a quiet suspicion that I might be pregnant. I wanted to confirm it at the hospital before telling him, to make it a surprise.

But he was the one who surprised me first.

The moment I finished speaking, Arthur released my hand and let out a cold scoff:

"How thoughtful of you. You've actually picked up the tricks those other women use, trying to trap me with a pregnancy, trying to chain me down with a kid."

The men around us wore the same look of contempt. Made men, heirs, silent partners who spent their lives drifting between women. Nothing disgusted them more than a woman using a pregnancy as leverage.

Arthur had always been different from them. He was devoted. He never bothered with flings or casual affairs.

But what I'd just said had dragged him right off that pedestal and down to their level. No wonder he was furious.

He didn't stop me. He let me turn and walk away.

But as I brushed past him, I thought I caught a flash of panic in his eyes. It was gone the next second, his expression perfectly composed again.

I lowered my head and smiled bitterly. My emotions had been all over the place today. I was seeing things.

The moment I stepped outside the social club, I booked an abortion for the next day. Then I purchased a one-way ticket to Ireland, departing in seven days.

I had been so consumed by this burning love that I'd almost forgotten I once had dreams of my own.

Back at the safehouse, I made myself a bowl of hot soup for dinner, same as always.

When Arthur was little, his parents were too consumed with Family business to care. He rarely came home from school to a meal waiting, and over the years his stomach paid the price.

After we got together, I made it a habit to cook him a bowl of hot soup every night.

My Sinclair used to say nothing healed the stomach like a proper broth. She made it for me all the time when I was young. Eventually, I started making it for Arthur instead.

I put real thought into what went in so he wouldn't get tired of it, rotating through different combinations every time.

But tonight, I knew he wasn't coming home to eat.

The pregnancy had already killed my appetite, and after all the crying, I couldn't force anything down. More than half the bowl sat untouched.

I set down my spoon and went to bed. Somewhere in the haze of half-sleep, I dreamed that Arthur came home.

He slipped under the covers and wrapped his arms around me, his voice soft with concern:

"Why didn't you eat a proper dinner? Wait, you're burning up. You have a fever?"

He got out of bed, tucked the blanket snugly around me, and muttered under his breath:

"Can't even leave you alone for a few hours without you making yourself sick."

A moment later, I felt the warmth of a damp towel settle against my forehead.

Arthur brought over a glass of warm water and held two pills to my lips, his voice gentle:

"Be good and take the medicine, okay? You'll feel better once the fever breaks. When you're well again, I'll take you on a trip. Where should we go this time?"

He used to do that whenever I was unhappy, just take me somewhere to clear my head. We'd been to so many places together. We'd promised each other that next time, we'd go to Ireland to see the ancient castles and the forests shrouded in mist.

Well, it didn't matter anymore. I'd be seeing them soon enough, on my own.

Groggy and disoriented, I swatted the pills and the glass away from my mouth.

"No medicine. Medicine is bad for the baby."

The glass hit the floor. I was instantly, completely awake.

Fighting through the fog of sickness, I forced my eyes open. My voice dropped cold:

"The doctor said I shouldn't take anything I don't need while preparing for conception. It could be harmful to the baby later."

Arthur's expression darkened in an instant, anger flashing behind his eyes. His signet ring caught the low light as his hand went still at his side.

Chapter 4

"Theo, do you have any idea what's going on right now? And you're still trying to use a baby to back me into a corner?"

My expression went cold too, my voice raw with grief:

"You've already sent out wedding invitations with her. What corner is there left to back you into?"

Arthur froze for a moment, then gently stroked my hair and softened his tone:

"Theo, I can explain. Adriana and I aren't what you think. We're…"

His phone rang right then. A ringtone different from his usual one. If I had to guess, it was the one he'd set just for Adriana Valente.

In five years, thata ringtone had only gone off a handful of times. Every single time, Arthur would claim it was some arrangement overseas and slip out to the balcony to take the call.

This time was no different. He went to the balcony again.

Through the glass door, I saw the corner of his mouth lift, his eyes bright with a warmth he couldn't hide. The same mouth that had just been explaining away wedding invitations.

I read his lips clearly:

"I'm coming to the airport to pick you up right now."

Arthur came back into the room and looked at me with an awkward, apologetic expression:

"Theo, something urgent just came up with the Family. I have to go handle it."

I stared straight into his eyes and kept staring, until he looked away first. The heir apparent to the Falcone syndicate, the man soldiers stepped aside for, the man whose word ended arguments in back rooms across the city. He couldn't hold my gaze.

Then he leaned down, kissed my forehead, and said in that coaxing tone he used like I was a Heir:

"Since my Theo doesn't want me to leave, then no matter how important it is, I'll stay."

Every other time he'd said something like that, I would nod and tell him to go take care of business. I was always the understanding one. The woman who asked no questions, who honored a private omertà she'd never been formally sworn to.

But this time, I didn't play along.

Instead, I followed his lead and said softly:

"Okay. Then stay with me."

Arthur said nothing. He just frowned at me. His signet ring turned once, slow, over the second knuckle of his right hand.

I shook my head, suddenly feeling how pointless all of this was, and smiled:

"I'm kidding. Go, go take care of it."

The tension in his shoulders finally loosened. Out of habit, he reached over and stroked my hair again.

"Theo, I'll explain the wedding invitations. I promise. Don't overthink things."

"I told you, we'll always be together. And if you want a baby later, we can have one. Just not now. Give it another two years, and you can have as many as you want."

A bleak coldness spread through my chest. So what he meant was that I'd have to wait until Adriana had their heir first, the Heir that would seal the Falcone-Valente alliance in blood, and only then would I be allowed to give birth to some unacknowledged baby carrying no name, no standing, nothing.

I didn't ask the question. There was no point anymore.

Arthur left in a hurry. The safehouse door closed behind him and the deadbolt turned, operated from the outside by one of his soldiers. It wasn't until eleven that night that he finally texted me:

"Theo, something urgent came up and I have to travel for Family business. I'll be back in a week. Be good and rest up at home. When I'm back, I'll take you to Ireland like you always wanted!"

I took a few deep breaths, trying to push past the sharp pain in my chest, then typed back a single word:

"Fine."

The next day, I went to the hospital alone for the procedure.

The clinic wasn't one of the Family doctors. I'd found it myself, paid cash, given a name that didn't connect to anything. Lying on that cold operating table, feeling the life inside me slip away, the pain in my heart dulled into numbness.

My hand moved, unthinking, toward the space below my ribs. Then I forced it back to my side.

Tears ran from the corners of my eyes. Five years with Arthur Falcone ended right there on that table.

After I was discharged, I went back to the safehouse and packed everything that was mine. I didn't take a single thing he'd ever given me. Not the jewelry, not the coats, not the keys to the apartment he kept in my name downtown.

I pulled down the photo wall in the living room. Every frame held a picture of us from some trip, pressed close together, smiling. I cut every last one of them in half and threw them in the trash.

The morning I left, I scrolled past a video on my phone of what people were calling the most extravagant alliance ceremony the city's families had ever seen. The cathedral steps lined with black cars. Made men in their best suits. Roses by the thousand.

In the video, Arthur recited his vows with the same tender devotion he'd had the day he first confessed his feelings to me.

I never doubted that his love had been real. But real love could change in a heartbeat.

I placed the pregnancy report and the discharge papers side by side on the nightstand. Then I wound my Sinclair's star-stitched ribbon tight around two fingers, pulled it against my palm until the edges bit, and let go. I grabbed my suitcase and walked out without looking back.

I had barely reached the airport when my phone started buzzing nonstop.