The next day was a celebration for the Valenti family.
I walked into a lavish private room in an underground club, all crystal chandeliers, velvet, and a champagne tower. On the floor, white roses were arranged in the shape of a heart.
So understated.
Nico’s men, usually so deferential, were all silent.
The door was suddenly thrown open—
"Nico, I got the diamond set you wanted! Don't screw this up—give Bianca a proposal she'll never forget!"
A dead silence fell.
No one spoke.
Everyone lowered their heads, eyes darting between Nico and me, feigning indifference.
So this wasn't a family celebration.
This was the elaborate birthday proposal he had planned for Bianca.
I looped my arm through Preston's and let out a light laugh that cut through the silence like a razor.
"Why is everyone so tense? Nico's lifelong happiness is on the line."
Someone finally spoke, their voice dripping with awkwardness.
"Roxanne… aren't you angry?"
Nico shot them a murderous glare.
I pretended not to see it. As Preston brought a crystal glass to my lips, I suppressed the sting in my heart and took a sip of wine.
"Why would I be angry? I'm his brother's fiancée. It's only natural for me to care about his love life."
Nico stiffened, then forced a smile.
"You're right. I've loved Bianca for years. Now I can finally be with her."
A relieved buzz quickly filled the room.
When Bianca slipped on the massive diamond ring and whispered, "I do," the room erupted in cheers.
Without me—the fiancée in his way—he could finally kiss the girl he actually wanted.
A bitter sting pricked my eyes, and I stood, murmuring that I needed to touch up my makeup in the private restroom.
From inside, a soft, breathless voice emerged.
"Bianca... I can finally have you."
Bianca's voice followed, laced with a practiced grievance.
"Nico, my heart aches every time I see you with Roxanne. I'm just the daughter of a distant relative. Even after being gone for years, she's still the one engaged to you."
Nico quickly soothed her. "You're so soft and sweet. Roxanne's body is covered in scars from shootouts—I can barely stand to look at her. Who knows what kind of hell she's been through? Every time I'm in bed with her… all I can think about is you."
Bianca's voice dropped to a coquettish whisper.
"Even if her amnesia doesn't last... I'll be content with just a few days with you."
A silent, bitter laugh escaped me, followed by a fresh wave of tears.
Back then, in bed, Nico had slowly, reverently traced the shootout scar on my back—swearing it was a badge of courage, that he would protect me forever.
Now he was using that same scar to degrade me, just to comfort another woman.
The muffled sounds of kissing and heavy breathing drifted from the restroom again.
The sounds were like a knife twisting in my heart.
I turned to leave, only to walk straight into a solid chest.
It was Preston.
He looked down at me, his brow furrowed, then roughly wiped the tears from my face with the pad of his thumb.
"Why are you crying?"
His eyes blazed with a dangerous fury, and he leaned in to kiss me.
Just then, the restroom door swung open.
Nico froze, his gaze fixed on my flushed face as Preston kissed me with a possessive heat. His expression darkened instantly.
"Preston, what the hell are you doing?"
His voice was laced with a threat.
I found it laughable. He was the one who pushed me into another man's arms, and now he couldn't stand the sight of it.
Preston let out a low laugh, his hand tightening on my waist.
"My fiancée is upset, so I'm comforting her. Can't you tell?"
