The Mafia Princess is Back

My own bedroom stared back at me from the screen.

And on my bed, a tangle of limbs. Marco and Isabella.

She was wearing my silk nightgown, her moans echoing in my sanctuary.

"So, do you actually love her?" Isabella’s voice dripped with venom.

Marco's voice was muffled against her neck, thick with lust, but the words came through crystal clear:

"Love her? Please. I've been playing a role for ten years, and I'm sick of pretending. Without her trust fund and the Moretti name, I wouldn't waste my time touching her."

Isabella giggled. "What if she finds out? The Moretti family... they're not just some old money, are they? Aren't they... Mafia?"

"What's to be afraid of?" Marco's voice was dripping with arrogance. "The Morettis are a ghost story. They're finished. She thinks I don't know who she is? I've known for a decade. She's just some stupid woman with a pile of cash. I can play her however I want."

I fast-forwarded through the rest of the filth.

A wave of nausea hit me.

Disgusted that they would defile my bed.

Disgusted that he dismissed the Moretti name as history.

But most of all, disgusted that for ten years, I had been his prize canary, trapped in a golden cage.

He thought I was a nobody.

I scanned the report.

The title: Background Check on Elena Moretti. The date was ten years ago.

It detailed everything. How Marco hired the P.I. to find out who I was.

The size of my trust fund. Even our first "chance" meeting at that coffee shop. It was all a setup.

The last page read:

"Recommendation: Target is an orphan. Family legacy: Extinct. No powerful connections. Possesses significant personal wealth. Target is vulnerable. Prime for a long-term play to secure financial assets. Risk level: Low."

Low risk.

What did he think I was?

A lamb for the slaughter?

My ten-year marriage. Everything I gave.

From start to finish, it was all a carefully planned scam.

My body trembled. I wanted to strangle Marco right then and there.

Then the doorbell rang.

The first guests had arrived.

Marco instantly put on his game face. Isabella took his arm, ready to greet them.

I saw my mother's bracelet sparkling on that bitch's wrist. The rage in my chest was about to explode.

"I need to powder my nose," I said flatly.

Marco waved a hand without turning. "Go ahead. And remember, don't embarrass me tonight."

Don't embarrass him?

I went upstairs, a cold smile on my face, and walked into the bedroom. I locked the door.

From the nightstand, I took out a burner phone. One Marco had never seen.

It was from Tony. For emergencies.

I dialed a number.

"Tony, it's me."

"Boss?" Tony's voice was a mix of shock and excitement. "You're finally calling."

"I need you to do a few things for me." I walked to the window, watching the guests arrive below. "Right now."

"Name it, Boss."

I watched Marco shaking hands and smiling downstairs. A cold curve formed on my lips.

"I'm going to burn his entire world to the ground. In front of every single person here. Have a car ready in an hour."

They wanted to humiliate me? Fine. I'd turn their celebration into a funeral.