The Scar That Tested an Alliance

I turned my head.

It was Lucian. The man who’d protected me for ten years, the one I’d trusted since I was a child.

For the five years of my marriage alliance with Marco, he had faded into the background, fearing gossip would tarnish my name. Only now could he stand openly before me again.

"Did that bastard Marco give you trouble again? Did he touch you?"

He wore a long black coat, standing tall and imposing, his gaze sharp as a hawk's, yet filled with a familiar sense of safety.

"Lucian."

The ice in my gaze thawed slightly. I forced a smile, waving the papers in my hand.

"Look. I'm free."

I took a deep breath. "I should have listened to you. Marco Bellini was never a man to be trusted. If I had, I wouldn't have wasted the last five years."

Seeing the exhaustion in my eyes, Lucian's heart clenched, and he pulled me into a tight embrace.

"Seraphina, do you have any idea what these last five years were like for me? Half of me wanted you to lose the bet, and the other half was desperate for you to win."

My vision blurred. I closed my eyes and burrowed into his warm, strong embrace.

Five years. I had lost everything. God, I was so tired.

Marco had no idea that my decision to marry him five years ago, to secure our family alliance, had driven a wedge between me and Lucian, the man I grew up with.

He had tried everything to stop the marriage, insisting Marco was untrustworthy. But I had fought him like a caged animal, desperate to break free from what I saw as his overbearing protection.

Finally, worn down by our fighting, Lucian proposed a bet.

"You say he's loyal to the alliance? Fine. I'll give you a chance to prove it. Seraphina, let's make a bet."

He made a pact with me: for five years after the wedding, I would fake a disfiguring scar. If Marco could consistently show respect for me and the Valeriano family, Lucian would back off and accept my choice.

But the marriage didn't last.

The first year, I faked a car accident and was left with a "hideous" scar.

The second year, he stopped calling me his wife in public.

The third year, he started staying out all night.

…

As the scar on my face lingered, Marco’s attitude soured.

First, he dropped the pretense of caring about my "trauma." The gestures on family anniversaries stopped. When I confronted him, he'd say dismissively, "We're allies. What's the point of all that ceremonial bullshit?"

Then came the silence, especially at family dinners. The sight of my face soured his mood, and he began to prefer the company of his men.

Soon after, his impatience grew. He'd claim to be handling turf disputes when he was actually on a date with Jenna.

My family's intelligence network even got me a recording. One of his men was teasing him:

"Boss, didn't you used to dote on the Principessa? Right after the alliance, you couldn't wait to tell all of Chicago that Seraphina Valeriano was a prize, that you'd found true love. It's only been three years. How come you avoid her now?"

Marco's voice was sharp with irritation. "That Seraphina. I was crazy about her at first, but that was for her face and her family's name. Who knew one car accident would ruin it all? Seeing that face every day, with her throwing her family’s honor in my face… it makes me sick. Don't even talk about touching her. I haven't laid a hand on her in a year. I just can't bring myself to do it."

Hearing those words, my blood ran cold.

Marco had whispered in my ear countless times, "Seraphina, I love your soul, not just your face. Even if your beauty fades, my loyalty to you, and to the Valeriano family, will never change."

But the truth was, a single "scar" was enough to reveal his true colors.

But I was still soft-hearted. Even after his cruel words, I kept giving him chances, telling myself it was a momentary lapse, a flash of frustration.

It wasn't until a family meeting, when I walked in on him getting the Valeriano family crest—the symbol of our alliance—lasered off his skin, clearing a space for Jenna’s name.

I snapped and pulled a gun on them.

Marco's first instinct was to shield Jenna. Then he looked at me with disgust.

"Seraphina, have you had enough? I'm sick of looking at that face. Look at you, you're acting like a psycho. What man wants that?"

His words, sharp as daggers, twisted in my heart. I thought this alliance was for life. It couldn't even survive five years.

"It's okay. No matter how bad it was, it's all over now."

Lucian's hand squeezed mine, pulling me from the haze of memory.

"Seraphina, forget all that. Look forward."

He used his thumb to brush the moisture from the corner of my eye and smiled as he led me to his car.

In the car, his face was alight with a poorly suppressed excitement, his usual composure cracking under the thrill of the moment.

"Seraphina, I feel like I'm dreaming. I've dreamed of this moment countless times, and now it's real. Seraphina, I'm not Marco. I swear, I will spend my life loving and protecting you."

I smiled and then opened my phone.

"Yes, it's time for a new beginning. At tonight's charity gala, I want all of Chicago to know there’s a new man by my side."