My Ex Ruined My Career, But His Regret Came Too Late

But even with blood staining the ivory, I couldn't carry the simplest piece through to its end.

I lost my place on the prestige circuit. Then every wire between the Families lit up, branding me a thief who had stolen another bloodline's name.

I went to Bianca Conti's rooms like a woman possessed, desperate to make her admit that she was the one who had taken what was mine.

But the moment I threw open the door, I saw two naked bodies tangled together.

All I remember is Salvatore pressing Bianca into his arms, shielding her, his eyes bloodshot as he roared at me: "Adriana! If you still want to be the Signora of this Family, get the hell out!"

But I had been someone he once held in the palm of his hand. Someone he'd loved. How could I just let it go?

So I lost all composure. I screamed. I raged through those rooms like a hurricane.

I even opened the wire, shrieking until my voice gave out before every listening Family that the compositions were mine, that I had written them.

I thought that would be enough. That she'd back down and return my music and my husband.

But what came instead was her trembling, pitiful little sob. "Salvatore! I'm not afraid of her!"

"Don't you remember? I'm your brave little lamb! I love you! I want to be with you!"

"If Adriana is willing to give you up, I'll kneel before the whole Cosa Nostra right now and swear the compositions are hers!"

Those words sent Salvatore's protective instincts into overdrive.

That very night, he called a public reckoning before the assembled Families, and he stood as Don of the Marchetti bloodline.

"My wife, consumed by jealousy of Bianca's gift for the circuit, stole her compositions before the season. I caught the theft in time and had every one of them returned."

"The truth is, my wife knows nothing of this art. I indulged her too long. I bought her honors she never earned, until she came to believe she was gifted."

"As for the talk between Bianca and myself, my wife invented all of it to ruin an innocent girl's name."

"Do not misjudge Bianca. She is a devoted young woman who has earned every ounce of her standing."

With a handful of measured sentences and a forged physician's evaluation, he laid the mark of madness across my name.

And just like that, the name Bianca Conti detonated across every Family in a single night.

She became the brightest young prodigy the circuit had ever crowned.

And I fell into the dark.

On the worst day, my body moved without my mind's permission, and I fell from the third-floor terrace.

When I came to, the first thing I saw was Salvatore standing over me, holding the papers to sever our blood-bound union. "Adriana, do you have any idea how terrifying you are?"

In that moment, it was like waking from a long, suffocating dream. I picked up the pen and signed without a second's hesitation.

So he was the one who broke my hands and buried my name with his own doing.

And now he wanted to buy it all back.

How laughable.

My thoughts snapped back to the present. I pulled out the order slip and pressed it back into his hand, then called the associate right there in front of his face. "Deliver the instrument I first arranged for."

"And if you ever let a stranger touch my order again, I will take it up with the man you answer to."

I ended the call and moved to walk past him.

He reached for my arm. I stepped clear, then lifted my gaze to the space behind him. "Don Marchetti. Spending tribute on other women like this. Doesn't your wife grow jealous?"

He turned to follow my line of sight. A woman was crossing toward us, a cup of milk tea in hand.

Bianca Conti.

The same wide-eyed little protégée from all those years ago, now polished into the pampered, imperious Signora of the Marchetti Family, courtesy of Salvatore's money and his indulgence.

But after all these years, that cloying perfume of hers hadn't changed one bit.

She wasn't even close yet, and already I was sneezing.

Salvatore moved instantly, stripping off his jacket and settling it over my shoulders, his thumb catching against his wedding band as he did. "You always take ill when the seasons turn. Let me take you to the doctor."

I didn't even get the chance to refuse.

Bianca had already stepped between us, blocking his path.