Seven Years as His Queen, Three Days to Leave

There was an unwritten rule among the Capital's underworld families.

When a man's new woman wanted to claim her place, the woman she was replacing had to remove the Matriarch's Ring in front of everyone and slide it onto the new woman's finger herself.

The day Domenico Corrado brought Olimpia Ferrante into the compound, every wife and mistress in the Capital's inner circles was waiting for me to tear his house apart.

I had been at Domenico's side for seven years. For that ring, I'd knelt in the Corrado family's ancestral hall for three days and three nights. I'd even taken a bayonet blade for him.

Everyone was certain I would never give up my place without a fight.

But when Olimpia walked up to me in her million-dollar couture, all doe-eyed innocence, and held out her hand—

I didn't make a scene. I calmly slipped the warm jade ring from my finger and placed it on hers.

Domenico stood nearby, swirling his wine glass, his eyes full of arrogance and satisfaction. The signet ring on his right hand caught the light as his thumb rolled it in a slow, deliberate rotation.

"Giuliana Valente. You've finally learned your place."

I lowered my gaze to my bare ring finger and said nothing.

What Domenico didn't know was this:

A month ago, every memory I'd lost had come flooding back.

I was the true-born daughter of the Valente Family, the most powerful Cosa Nostra dynasty on the Eastern Seaboard, missing for seven years.

In three days, my eldest brother's private fleet would land in the Capital to take me home.

——

The Corrado estate glittered that evening, its grand hall packed with silk gowns and tailored suits. Soldiers stood at every door, hands folded in front of them, eyes moving. The air smelled of expensive wine, fresh-cut flowers, and the faintest trace of cigar smoke drifting in from the terrace where the Capos held court.

Olimpia Ferrante raised her hand, showing off the Matriarch's Jade Ring to the circle of wives and associates' women around her.

Gasps rippled through the crowd, followed by pitying, mocking glances cast toward the corner where I stood.

Domenico Corrado sat at the head of the table, his gaze drifting toward me every now and then. Two soldiers flanked the wall behind him, still as furniture.

Once Olimpia had soaked up enough admiration, she picked up a champagne flute and sauntered over.

Her eyes dropped to my neck.

There, against my collarbone, hung an extraordinarily rare pink diamond necklace. Three years ago, on my birthday, Domenico had bid eighty million dollars for it at Sotheby's. In this world, jewelry like that was more than ornament. It was a marker of status, a declaration that the woman who wore it belonged to a man powerful enough to take what he wanted.

Olimpia let out a soft laugh and leaned close to my ear.

"Giuliana, since you've already handed over the ring, don't you think it's a little inappropriate for you to still be wearing the lady of the house's jewelry?"

She reached for the necklace.

I stepped back.

Olimpia used the momentum to tilt the champagne flute in her hand.

Pale gold liquid splashed across the front of my silk gown.

A sharp crack followed as the glass slipped from her fingers and shattered across the marble floor. The sound cut through the room like a gunshot, and two soldiers near the entrance shifted their weight.

Olimpia immediately clutched the back of her hand, her eyes flooding red. I caught it, the tiny thing no one else would notice: she bit the inside of her lower lip, a quick mechanical preparation, and then fat tears rolled down her cheeks in an instant.

"Giuliana, I just thought the necklace was pretty and wanted a closer look. If you didn't want to show me, you could've just said so. Why did you have to push me?"

The music stopped.

Every pair of eyes in the hall turned toward us. The Capos' wives. The underbosses' women. The associates who owed Domenico favors and feared his moods. All of them watching, calculating.

For the past seven years, any woman who tried to get close to Domenico or provoke me had been thrown out without mercy. I had once shoved a starlet's face into a cake in front of the entire Capital's elite for trying to crawl into his bed.

Domenico crossed the hall in long strides and pulled Olimpia behind him. The crowd parted for him without being asked. They always did.

He looked down at the faint red mark on the back of her hand, and his brow furrowed tight.

"Giuliana, what the hell is wrong with you? Olimpia just got back to the country. Why are you going after her?"

His voice dripped with undisguised favoritism and reproach.

I stared at that face, the face I had once loved down to the marrow of my bones, and felt a dull ache deep in my chest.

I drew a slow breath and forced the sting behind my eyes back down.

My thumb brushed the bare space on my right ring finger where the jade had sat moments ago. The skin was still warm from it.

I didn't explain. I didn't lose my temper.

I lifted my hands, reached behind my neck, and unclasped the Pink Diamond Necklace.

Under the stunned gazes of everyone in the room, I held it out to Olimpia.

"You like it? Then it's yours. I lost my footing just now. I'm sorry."