THE MAFIA BOSS WATCHED ME KEEP MY LEFT HAND UNDER THE TABLE WHILE SERVING HIS ENGAGEMENT DINNER—THEN HIS FIANCÉE SAID, “SHE CAUGHT IT IN THE SILVERWARE DRAWER,” BEFORE HE EVEN ASKED WHY MY FINGERS WERE SWOLLEN

The grand ballroom of the Drake Hotel was a sea of black silk, white gardenias, and glistening crystal.

Chicago’s criminal elite had gathered under the pretense of a wedding rehearsal dinner, but the atmosphere felt less like a celebration and more like a gladiatorial arena before the lions were released. Two hundred guests—underworld bosses, corrupt judges, money launderers, and high-society sycophants—sipped vintage champagne while string quartets played softly in the balcony.

Vanessa sat at the center of the head table.

She looked breathtaking and completely miserable. She wore an emerald-green satin gown that hugged her curves, but her makeup couldn't conceal the hollow, terrified look in her eyes. Her father, Arturo, sat two chairs down, nursing a glass of scotch, his face an emotionless mask of defeated pride.

And then, the double doors of the ballroom opened.

A collective murmur swept through the room like an electric shock.

Luca entered, wearing a custom black tuxedo that emphasized his broad shoulders and commanding height. But it wasn't Luca who drew the gasps of every woman and the narrowed eyes of every man in the room.

It was me.

I stood beside him, clad in an off-the-shoulder gown of midnight-blue velvet, designed with long sleeves that concealed the splints and bandages on my left hand. A master stylist from New York had spent three hours pinned to my hair, twisting my dark locks into an intricate chignon that framed my neck.

And around my neck hung a necklace.

It wasn't the emeralds. It was a choker of brilliant-cut diamonds and sapphires—another heirloom from the Moretti private vault, glittering with a cold, blinding light that announced to the entire world that I was no longer a servant clearing dirty plates.

Vanessa’s champagne flute shattered in her hand.

The crystal broke against the linen tablecloth, crimson wine splashing across her pristine green silk like fresh blood. Several women gasped. Arturo didn't even flinch; he merely signaled a waiter to clean the mess without looking at his daughter.

"Keep your chin up, Nora," Luca murmured softly, his arm firmly linked with mine as we descended the grand marble staircase into the ballroom. "You look like royalty. Let them wonder."

"They're going to tear me apart, Mr. Moretti," I whispered, my heart hammering like a trapped bird against my ribs.

"Nobody touches what belongs to me," Luca replied, his voice an unshakable vow.

As we reached the foot of the stairs, several underbosses stepped forward, bowing their heads respectfully to Luca while casting curious, hungry glances in my direction. Luca acknowledged them with curt nods, navigating the crowded room with effortless grace until we stopped directly in front of the head table.

Vanessa stood up, shaking with rage, ignoring the wine dripping from her sleeve onto the floor.

"What is the meaning of this, Luca?!" Vanessa hissed, her voice vibrating with hysterical venom. "Who authorized you to bring a common servant to our rehearsal dinner? Wearing your family’s jewels?!"

Luca didn't raise his voice. He didn't even look angry. He looked at her with the cold pity one might reserve for a stray dog caught in the rain.

"Nora is here because she has earned the right to stand beside me," Luca said, his words ringing clear across the quieted ballroom. "Unlike some people at this table, she doesn't steal from vaults, she doesn't sell out her family to the Rossis, and she doesn't break people's bones to hide her cowardice."

A sharp collective intake of breath echoed around the surrounding tables.

The rumor of the broken hand had circulated through the staff, but hearing Luca declare it publicly in front of the entire Chicago syndicate was an execution sentence for Vanessa’s social standing.

Vanessa turned to her father, her eyes pleading. "Papa! Say something! Are you going to let him humiliate us like this?!"

Arturo Bellini slowly raised his eyes, looking at his daughter with utter disgust. "You humiliated yourself, Vanessa. The moment you went behind my back to Marco Rossi, you ceased to be a Bellini."

Vanessa stumbled back half a step, the last shred of her arrogant delusion collapsing around her. Tears of humiliation and rage spilled over her lashes, ruining her makeup.

"I hate you," Vanessa spat, looking at Luca, then glaring at me with raw, venomous hatred. "I hate both of you! You think you're so untouchable, Luca?! You think you've won?! You don't even know who really took your mother's necklace! You don't know who has been pulling the strings from the very beginning!"

Luca’s eyes narrowed into slits of ice. "Enlighten me."

Vanessa opened her mouth to speak, but before a single word could pass her lips, the heavy crystal chandelier hanging directly above the head table gave a violent, metallic shriek.

"Down!" Daniel roared from ten feet away.

Luca reacted instantly. With terrifying speed, he wrapped his broad body around mine, slamming us both to the marble floor and shielding my head with his arms just as the ceiling erupted in a deafening crash of shattered plaster and steel cables.