On the night my new gallery opened, our security expert, Rhys Donovan, rolled up his sleeves. Beads of sweat glistened on the sharp lines of his forearms as he leaned in, his voice a low rumble. "Ready, Scarlett?"
I stared at the corded muscle beneath his suit, my mind a total blank. "What?"
His hot breath ghosted across my ear. "I said. Are. You. Ready?"
My voice was a shaky whisper. "I thought… we agreed to take things slow?"
That night, champagne-hued moonlight spilled through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting our tangled shadows on the floor until the first light of dawn.
Meanwhile, my ex-husband, Julian Valachi—the Underboss of Chicago's Valachi crime family—knelt in the torrential rain outside. Soaked to the bone, a pathetic, sodden mess. I couldn't even be bothered to spare him a glance.
Julian thought he had masterfully broken our stalemate when he begged me to agree to a symbolic engagement party with Isabella, the daughter of the allied Rossi family. His excuse? His mother Carmela's recurring heart condition.
"It's just for the alliance," he had pleaded. "The party is a formality, a show. I swear, once the dust settles, we'll go right back to how we were."
I remained silent, my eyes glued to the seven-day countdown on my phone for our marriage annulment, ticking down to the second I would reclaim my freedom. He never knew that the moment his deception guided my hand to sign that paper, our marriage—and my heart—had already been reduced to ash.
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1
A soul-crushing exhaustion washed over Scarlett Dubois as Carmela Valachi—the family's Madre—shattered their wedding photo for the ninth time that year.
She stared down at the glittering shards of glass at her feet, still slick with the scalding soup Carmela had just hurled at her.
Every time the Madre threw one of her tantrums, their wedding photo was always the first casualty.
"What are you looking at?" Carmela shrieked from her opulent sickbed, her voice as sharp as the glass on the floor. "If it weren't for you—you worthless outsider—do you think assassins would have gotten to me? Do you think I'd be trapped in this bed?"
Scarlett silently crouched to pick up the pieces, the sharp edges digging into her fingertips.
Without a word, she began dabbing at the soup staining the silk of her dress.
"Stop playing the victim!" Carmela snatched a crystal glass from her bedside table, her arm cocked to throw. "Get out! The sight of you makes my stomach turn!"
The glass whizzed past Scarlett's ear, exploding against the silk wallpaper in a spray of a thousand glittering fragments.
She walked slowly from the room, gently pulling the heavy oak door closed behind her. Leaning against the cool wall of the silent manor hallway, she took a deep, shuddering breath.
The cloying scent of expensive aromatherapy stung her nostrils, a bitter reminder of the two years she had spent suffocating in this gilded cage.
She pulled out her phone and sent a message to Julian: [Jules, maybe we should hire a full-time nurse for Mamma? She’s having a terrible day…]
The message receipt immediately showed "Read," but no reply came.
Scarlett stared at the screen for a full ten minutes before her thumb finally locked it. She decided to go to the family lawyer and retrieve the marriage certificate they had been holding from her.
The law firm was nearly deserted. Scarlett stated her purpose to an assistant, who frowned after a moment of typing.
"Ms. Dubois, the annulment of your marriage to Mr. Valachi is scheduled to become official at the family meeting in seven days. The document cannot be released to you at this time."
"What annulment agreement?" Scarlett thought she must have misheard.
The assistant turned the monitor toward her. "The system indicates Mr. Valachi submitted the application. It is currently in process."
Scarlett’s fingers gripped the marble countertop so hard her knuckles turned bone-white.
She suddenly remembered a document Julian had pushed in front of her a few weeks ago, claiming it was for a family asset transfer. She'd been in a rush to tend to Carmela and had signed it without a second thought.
The assistant offered a sympathetic look. "Would you like to file a motion to withdraw the application?"
Whispers rippled through the waiting area. "Isn't that the Valachi girl? The one holding Julian back, they say."
"That's her. If it wasn't for her, the Madre never would have gotten hit so bad in that attack two years ago."
Scarlett lowered her gaze to the wedding band on her finger, a feeling like her heart was being flayed alive spreading through her chest.
"No, that's alright. I'll receive a confirmation letter in seven days, correct?" Scarlett asked, her voice barely audible.
After receiving a quiet affirmation, Scarlett fled the office. She stepped out into the scorching sunlight but felt a chill that pierced her straight to the bone.
She called a car service to take her back to the manor. On the way, Julian finally texted back: [Tied up in family business. We'll talk tonight.]
She opened the chat window again and again, the urge to scream at him a physical ache in her throat, but her fingers typed nothing.
The manor’s hallway was eerily quiet. As she neared her mother-in-law's room, she heard peals of laughter from within.
She gently pushed the door open a crack and froze at the scene before her.
Carmela was on her feet by the window, hale and hearty, nibbling on fruit with a silver fork.
Isabella, the Principessa of the Rossi family, sat beside her peeling an apple, while Julian—who claimed to be swamped with business—was gently massaging Carmela's shoulders.
"That little act with my heart was a stroke of genius," Carmela gloated. "The girl never suspected I've been perfectly fine all along."
"Mamma, don't say that," Isabella cooed. "It wasn't easy for Scarlett, taking care of you all this time."
Carmela snorted. "She owes me! If not for her carelessness, her failure to have my car checked, would I have nearly died in that hit from our rivals?"
Scarlett's hands gripped the doorframe, knuckles white. She looked at Julian, who wore a conflicted expression but said nothing to defend her.
"The annulment is signed, so why hasn't she scrammed yet?" Carmela demanded suddenly.
Julian replied in a low voice, "The process is still finalizing, and besides..."
"Besides what?" Carmela cut him off sharply. "Don't tell me you've gone soft on her. A woman from nothing—how can she possibly hold a candle to our Isabella?"
"Mamma!" Julian's voice rose an octave. "I have this handled. Stay out of it."
Carmela waved a dismissive hand. "Fine, fine, have it your way. The papers are signed. If she wants to play the maid for free, then let her."
Scarlett slowly backed away, tears blurring her vision.
So, she was the last to know her marriage was being voided.
She turned and fled, the sound of their laughter a cruel, echoing knife in her back.
Scarlett stood by a window and pulled out her phone, dialing a number she hadn't called in a very long time.
"Sloane, it's me." Her voice was unnervingly calm. "Please, I need your help to get out of here. The sooner, the better."
There was a beat of silence on the other end. "Are you sure? Have you thought this through?"
"Yes." Scarlett watched the sycamore leaves dance in the wind outside. "It's been two years. My debt to the Valachi family is paid in full."
She hung up and took one last, long look at Carmela's room.
The laughter continued, filled with a warmth and joy she had never been allowed to share. They were a family.
And Scarlett had never truly been one of them.
