Marrying My Cheating Fiance's Ruthless Uncle

Isabella POV

The common room at Trinity College for Young Ladies was exactly as I expected: a gilded cage smelling of expensive rosewater, Earl Grey tea, and thinly veiled venom. I sat on a velvet sofa, my bruised wrist carefully hidden beneath the lace cuff of my blouse.

"I heard the new shooting club is fully funded by the Falcone family," Alice O'Donnell whispered excitedly, leaning in. "There's even a rumor that Don Falcone himself might oversee the first session!"

My blood ran cold at the mention of Damon. The memory of his paralyzing stare in the garden yesterday still made my pulse erratic.

Before I could process the threat of his proximity, a sickly sweet voice cut through the chatter.

"Don't be ridiculous, Alice," Valentina Mendoza sneered, stepping into our circle. Her dark eyes locked onto me with undisguised malice. She had always harbored a sick obsession with Damon, and my betrothal to his nephew made me her favorite target. "Some people are like cheap glass in a storefront window. Even with a Falcone label slapped on, they’ll never be diamonds. A collateral bride is still just collateral."

The room fell dead silent. A few girls exchanged mocking glances.

Yesterday, I might have lowered my head. Today, I remembered my vow in the Cadillac.

I met Valentina’s glare, keeping my voice perfectly even. "Miss Mendoza, I don't quite understand your meaning. Are you implying that the betrothal used to maintain Falcone honor is worthless to you? Because that sounds dangerously like you are questioning Don Falcone's personal judgment."

Valentina’s smug smile faltered. "I—that's not what I—"

"Watch your mouth, Valentina," a sharp voice snapped.

Kianna Falcone stepped out from the shadows of the bookshelves. She had always ignored me, but right now, her eyes were blazing with familial pride. "You do not insult my family's honor. If you have a problem with my uncle's decisions, perhaps you should tell him yourself."

Valentina paled, her bravado crumbling. She spun on her heel and fled the room without another word.

Kianna turned to me. For the first time, there was a flicker of calculating respect in her gaze, rather than pity. I offered her a slight, polite nod. I was no longer just a canary in a cage.

*

Damon POV

The Mayor’s Office at City Hall reeked of stale leather, old books, and political desperation. I sat across from Mayor James 'Jimmy' Walker, the tip of my Cuban cigar glowing in the dim light.

"A girls' shooting club, Damon?" Jimmy asked, wiping sweat from his brow despite the cool room. "Why are you personally overseeing this? A Capo could handle it. It’s not your style to play babysitter."

I took a slow drag of my cigar, letting the smoke veil my expression. Jimmy didn't need to know the truth. He didn't need to know that the image of Grayson's hands on Isabella's fragile wrist was burning a hole through my sanity. I needed a legitimate, public reason to step into her world, to watch her, to ensure she belonged to no one else.

"Mayor," I said, my voice devoid of any inflection. "The fathers and future husbands of those girls control Wall Street, the courts, and Fifth Avenue."

I leaned forward, resting my forearms on his mahogany desk. "Having them learn to pull a trigger—and making sure they are aiming at the targets I designate—is a far more valuable investment than building a new railroad."

Jimmy blinked, the confusion in his eyes slowly morphing into deep admiration. "Brilliant," he muttered, leaning back in his chair. "Absolutely brilliant, Damon. You'll have all the official permits and facilities by tomorrow."

"Make sure of it," I replied coldly.

I stood up, buttoning my tailored suit jacket. The board was set. Isabella thought she could navigate the treacherous waters of my family on her own, but she was about to learn that every path she took would inevitably lead straight back to me.