Andrew knew Mrs. Ciaro was marrying off her daughters tonight. He had heard the whispers, seen the preparations, watched the most dangerous men in Boston arrive one by one in cars worth more than his entire existence. But still, a part of him doubted she would go against her husband's final words. She wouldn't dare. Would she? Two years had passed since Mr. Ciaro took his last breath. Two years since Andrew was bound to Emilia in a marriage that felt more like a prison sentence. Two years of sleeping in separate rooms, living like strangers under the same roof, pretending the wedding ever meant anything. And yet, Andrew remained. Not because he wanted to. But because Mr. Ciaro's dying wish had chained him here. --- *Two years ago. The family hospital.* The room smelled of medicine and death. Mr. Ciaro lay in the bed, tubes running through his arms, his once-powerful frame now reduced to bones and yellowing skin. But his eyes—those eyes still carried the weight of a man who had

The sitting room was a mess of anger. Mrs. Ciaro stormed into the sitting room, her gold gown dragging across the marble floor like a wounded animal. Her face was pale but her eyes were wild—the look of a woman who had just sold a piece of herself and was trying not to regret it. Emilia walked in last. Quiet. Sat down on the sofa. Didn't say a word. But her face wasn't blank anymore. There was something there. Something angry. "Mother, what was that?" Stacy shouted. "Keep your voice down," Mrs. Ciaro said. "Did you just give Emilia to Lesner?" Stacy wasn't stopping. "Did you really just do that? In front of everyone?" Sophia crossed her arms. "You didn't even think about it. You just said okay like you were selling a bag of rice." Lily leaned against the doorframe. Her voice was quieter but sharper. "You broke Father's word. Everyone saw it. Everyone will talk." Mrs. Ciaro turned to face them. Her face was tired. "You think I wanted to do that?" "Then why?" Stacy demanded.

Andrew's head was spinning. He looked around the hall again. The governor. The senator. The judge. All standing amongst men in red. All looking at him like he was someone important. "I don't understand," Andrew said. "My father was a second-in-command. That's what Mr. Ciaro had told me. That's all I ever knew." A reply came from Klaus almost immediately. "Your father was never a second-in-command. He was the leader. The founder. The most powerful cartel boss this city has ever seen." Andrew's mouth went dry. "Then why—" "Why did Ciaro tell you different?" Klaus finished. "Because that was the deal. Ciaro protected you. In return, he kept the Chappatti cartel name hidden. He kept you hidden. Until you were ready." Andrew's head was pounding. Too much information. Too fast. "I have so many questions," he said. Klaus nodded. "I know. And I will answer every single one of them." He stepped closer. "But not tonight. Tonight, we have something more important." An

It was exactly three days since Lesner had set the date, and the wedding was holding in the biggest church in Boston.Mrs. Ciaro had poured everything into this wedding. Money, connections, favors—she didn't hold back. In her mind, she was finally securing the family's future. Her daughter was marrying the most powerful man in the city. Lesner would protect them, provide for them, make them untouchable. Never mind that she had broken her dead husband's word. Never mind that Emilia was already married to Andrew. In Mrs. Ciaro's world, survival mattered more than promises.She sat in the front pew, dressed in an expensive purple gown, smiling like she had won a war. Her daughters sat beside her—Stacy, Sophia, Lily. They wore matching dresses and fake smiles. Inside, they were still burning with jealousy. Lesner had walked past them like they were furniture. He had chosen Emilia, the quiet one, the favorite, the sister who never had to try. But they weren't about to show that bitterness

The red Ferrari pulled through the gates, roof down, wind cutting through the car. Andrew drove with a calm that didn't match the power of the engine. Behind him, a long line of black SUVs followed like faithful wolves.Emilia sat beside him, her white dress blowing, her hair a mess. She didn't fix it. She just stared at the mansion growing larger in front of them.It was huge. Older than the Ciaro estate. Stone walls, tall columns, a fountain spraying water into the golden afternoon light.Andrew parked. Killed the engine. The silence felt loud."Where are we?" Emilia asked."One of my father's mansions. I took it over when I became the cartel leader."She turned to look at him. "Cartel leader. Andrew, I don't understand anything right now."He got out, walked around, opened her door. "I know. Let's go inside and I'll explain everything. I promise."She took his hand. He led her up the stone steps.---The front doors opened and Emilia stopped.Gold. Everywhere. Not flashy, but warm.