The day I decided to leave the family was the day I walked in on my fiancé, Pablo Ricardo. He was slipping the ruby ring meant for me onto the finger of the new dancer, Cassandra, and coaching her on how to launder cash.
After reading the note, he sneered, grabbing my chin. "What kind of game is this?" he demanded, convinced it was just another one of my stunts.
"My accounts are settled," I said, my voice steady. "I didn't even take my cut. It's all in the family vault."
Pablo froze for a second, his expression shifting as he tried to regain control. He probably thought I was about to demand he get rid of Cassandra, or maybe strong-arm him for a larger share of the Ricardo family's holdings.
He handed me a glass of whiskey, just like he always did, expecting me to swallow my pride for the sake of the family's "peace," just like every other time.
I didn't take it. I just shook my head, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. This time, I just wanted to watch his whole world burn.
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1
"Juliana."
Cassandra Bell purred, her voice sickeningly sweet. She made a show of flaunting the diamond bracelet on her wrist—the one I had designed, paid for with family funds.
"Pablo always says the family can't survive without you," Cassandra said. "But it's too much for you to handle alone. I just want to help lighten your load."
Pablo Ricardo patted her hand, a gesture of approval. "See? Cassie is so considerate. Juliana Thorne, don't be so ungrateful. We have dinner with Senator Warren tonight. He specifically asked for you."
"You'll take Cassie, show her the ropes. Let her take the credit this time. I'll make it up to you with that property on the west side."
It was his usual carrot-and-stick routine. In the past, for the family, for the empire we built in the shadows, I had always compromised. I swallowed every injustice, time and again. But this time, I ignored him.
"I'm not going," I said flatly.
Pablo's hand, which had been reaching for a glass, froze mid-air. His face darkened. "What did you say?"
He sneered, unlocking his phone. He showed me a photo of my mother, asleep in the garden of her nursing home. In the corner of the frame, I could see the silhouettes of a few Ricardo family Soldato, "standing guard" like vultures.
My mother was my only weakness, my one safe harbor in this dark world.
Seeing my silence, Pablo smiled, triumphant. He thought he had me, just like always. "That's more like it."
He casually tossed my one-word resignation note—"Quit"—into the cigar ashtray and watched the flames consume it.
"Go get changed. Wear the dress I had sent over. Keep Senator Warren happy tonight, and I'll have your mother moved to a facility with better security."
I took a sharp breath, my nails digging into my palms until they left bloody crescents. "Fine. I'll go."
In the armored car on the way to the dinner, I sat in the front passenger seat. Pablo and Cassandra were in the back.
Cassandra whined the whole way, her voice a cloying, nauseating drone. "Pablo, I really don't want to deal with all this schmoozing. I heard Senator Warren is a disgusting old lech."
Pablo kissed the top of her head, his voice dripping with affection. "What's there to be afraid of? Juliana's here. She knows what she's doing. She can handle a scene like this. Your job is to look pretty and show up at the end."
I stared out the window, watching the neon lights bleed into a blur, a bitter wave of nausea churning in my gut.
I was once the one he protected like that. Five years ago, during a turf war, I took a bullet for him. As he held me, bleeding in his arms, Pablo swore he would never let me suffer another injustice as long as he lived.
Now, to appease a dancer, he was personally pushing me into another man's bed.
