The grand ballroom of the Rosewood Manor glittered with crystal chandeliers and champagne flutes, but Marco Benedetti saw none of it. His calloused fingers gripped the velvet box in his coat pocket as he stared at the iron gates before him, security guards blocking his path like sentries guarding a fortress."Sorry, pal. Private event," the taller guard said, his meaty hand pressing against Marco's chest. "No invitation, no entry."Marco's jaw tightened. Five years. Five years he'd spent building an empire in blood and steel, becoming the most feared man in the underground world. Kings and presidents knew his name. Warlords trembled at his approach. Yet here he stood, barred from entering by two rent-a-cops who probably couldn't spell his name."I need to see Oriana Caruso," Marco said, his voice low and controlled. "Tell her Marco Benedetti is here."The second guard, shorter but stockier, burst into laughter. "Marco who? Listen, buddy, we get guys like you every week. Some nobody cl

The D'Angelo residence buzzed with afternoon chatter, sunlight streaming through lace curtains onto tables laden with pastries and coffee. Cassio D'Angelo held court in the center of the living room, his chest puffed out like a peacock as relatives gathered around."Fifteen years we've invested in that girl," Cassio announced, gesturing broadly with his espresso cup. "Fifteen years of feeding her, clothing her, educating her. And now it's finally paying off. My Isabella is marrying Mr. Richard Duran—owner of Duran Demolition and Construction. The man's worth forty-two million dollars!"Mariella D'Angelo dabbed her eyes with an embroidered handkerchief. "Our little charity project is marrying up. Who would have thought? When we took her in, she was just a skinny thing with holes in her shoes.""Forty-two million?" Aunt Teresa, Cassio's sister, leaned forward with a skeptical frown. "Isn't Richard Duran that old man who smells like cigars and mothballs? I saw him at the country club las

Isabella woke before dawn, her stomach churning with anxiety. She'd barely slept, her mind replaying her parents' desperate voices through the thin wall. By the time pale morning light filtered through the apartment window, she'd already showered and dressed in her most professional outfit—a gray pencil skirt and white blouse that had seen better days.Marco was already awake, sitting at the small kitchen table with a cup of black coffee and his phone. He looked up as she emerged, taking in her nervous energy."You don't have to go in today," he said quietly."Yes, I do." Isabella grabbed her worn leather bag. "If there's any chance I can help salvage something at the company, I need to try. Besides, staying here will just make me crazy.""Isabella—""I'll be fine, Marco. Really." She forced a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I'll see you tonight."She was gone before he could argue, the door clicking shut behind her with a finality that made Marco's jaw tighten. He pulled out his p

Marco stood outside Serene Villa, the cool air a welcome relief from the suffocating atmosphere inside. He was about to call for a rideshare when his phone buzzed. Isabella's name flashed on the screen."Marco?" Her voice sounded strained. "I'm sorry to bother you, but... Grandmother Maria is hosting a dinner tonight. She's insisting you attend.""A dinner?""She says there's an important guest." Isabella paused. "I think it's that man—Matteo Quinton. Oriana's been bragging all day about introducing him to the family. Grandmother wants everyone there, including us. She specifically said you need to come."Marco's jaw tightened. So the fraud was being paraded before the family already. "What time?""Seven o'clock. At the Caruso estate." Isabella's voice dropped to a whisper. "Marco, I know it's going to be awful. They'll probably mock you the entire time. If you don't want to go, I can make an excuse—""I'll be there," Marco said firmly. "Text me the address. I'll meet you there.""Are