Side Chick's Joyride, Fiancé's Meltdown

I was a top-tier heart surgeon. The kind they gave a government-issued black SUV with diplomatic plates—armored, red-light-skipping, cleared-for-anything kind of ride.

I parked it at my fiancé Marco Varonetti's place so he could keep it in shape. Bad call.

One day, I got an emergency call: heart transplant for the Chancellor—yeah, that Chancellor, the one with state secrets ticking inside him.

I rushed over to Marco's to grab the car.

Right as I was about to leave, some rando slid into the back seat like she owned it.

"Mall first. I need a mani," she barked. "Then get the ice cream Marco ordered. If it melts, I'll kill you."

Excuse me?

"This is my car," I said, trying to stay chill. "I've got a critical airport run. You need to get out."

She rolled her eyes. "You're just the driver. Open those eyes and check the plate."

Then the maid chimed in. "Everyone knows Mr. Varonetti takes Ms. Caro out in this car. Nobody says a word."

I froze.

Marco used my federally issued SUV... to chauffeur her?

This wasn't just messy.

This was criminal.

Misusing a Federal Council vehicle?

Three years minimum.

Taking some random girl for a joyride behind my back? Bonus charges.

If the Varonettis had half a brain, they'd have Marco grovel, and maybe—maybe—the Council would let it slide for the sake of our engagement.

But then I looked at her.

Ms. Caro. Arrogant. Entitled. And completely unsalvageable.

She wouldn't budge from the back seat, and honestly, I wasn't in the mood to babysit. I turned away and started the engine. Lives came first. Marco could explain himself later.

I gripped the wheel and pulled out.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!"

She lunged forward, shrieking, clawing at the steering wheel. "You don't get to drive without MY permission!"

The car jerked. We swerved hard, headed straight for a wall.

I yanked the wheel and slammed the brakes.

We plowed into a flowerbed. Engine dead.

"Are you insane?!" I yelled, heart pounding.

"Don't touch what's not yours," she sneered. "Do it again and I'll cut your hand off, loser."

Classy.

I ignored her and stepped out to check the damage. Hood was dented, but the engine still ran. Small win.

I was about to slide back in when a pack of Varonetti bodyguards closed in and shoved me aside.

With her watching like she was a queen, they took the front seats.

"Think you can disrespect Ms. Caro and walk away?" one of them snapped. "You're lucky we don't skin you alive."

Wait, these guys were taking orders from her?

I turned to the maid, who was just standing there.

"Who even is she?"

She scoffed. "You don't know Ms. Caro? She's Mr. Varonetti's favorite intern assistant. Sophia Caro."

I laughed.

An intern. Acting like she ran the show.

The Varonetti family? Total circus.

I pulled out my phone. "Let's see what Marco has to say."

Sophia tensed, eyes glued to me.

Since she was his favorite toy, I wanted to watch her squirm.

It rang forever before he picked up.

"Marco, using my car without permission's a public safety offense," I said flat. "Tell your intern and her goons to get out. If they don't screw with my mission, maybe I'll keep you out of jail."

Silence.

Then he laughed. Cold.

"Elena Ezzelini. Who do you think you are, asking me to shame poor Sophia for you? You really think you deserve that car more than SHE does?"

I went still.

The Varonettis had begged me to marry Marco—said it was to repay my life-saving work. Promised he had looks, status, and would take care of me.

I liked his photo. Said yes without blinking.

Never thought he'd side with her.

Did he seriously forget that without our engagement, his entire family would crash and burn?

I was the reason the Federal Council trusted them with those big-league contracts.