Chapter 1

The night before my victory gala, I heard my husband, Matteo Bellandi, promise my credit to his mistress.

"Vivian, I'll put Sofia's project credit under your name. Consider it an early second-birthday gift for our son."

Vivian laughed softly. "Will Sofia agree to that?"

Matteo sounded bored. "She has the title of Mrs. Bellandi. That's enough."

I thought I had misheard him. But the next night, my award was given to Vivian, and Matteo personally walked her onto the stage.

"Young talent needs room to grow," he told the room. "From now on, Vivian will lead this project."

The gala went silent. Everyone tried not to look at me.

I sat in the corner Vivian had arranged for me and finally understood. Matteo had kept the title for me, then given the credit, the money, and his future to his mistress and their son.

Fine. I left the ballroom without looking back.

I was done being Mrs. Bellandi.

From now on, I was Sofia Valenti again, the princess of Chicago’s most feared family.

Chapter 1

On the ride home, Matteo finally spoke. "Vivian didn't do it on purpose. Don't make this ugly for her."

Again. With Vivian, there was always an explanation ready.

When our team pulled an all-nighter, Vivian uploaded the wrong backup drive and cost us a week of notes. Matteo said she was new and only wanted to help.

When I flew out for a negotiation and she booked me into a run-down motel on the South Side, he said a vendor had tricked her and I shouldn't be so harsh.

Now Lark Harbor, the project I had bled two years of my life into, the project that would carry Bellandi Group's future cash flow, had been handed to her in front of the whole gala. And still, he said she hadn't meant it.

I locked my phone and looked at him. “Don’t you think what you’re doing for Vivian has gone far beyond looking after an employee?”

Matteo's brow twitched. "Sofia, you're exhausted. That's why your mind is running wild. Don't say things like that in public. You'll ruin her reputation."

His first instinct wasn't to explain himself. It was to protect Vivian.

For a second, I remembered the early days, when investors called me Matteo's decorative wife and tried to talk over me in his own boardroom. Matteo had cut them off and said no one disrespected the woman who built beside him. Back then, his protection had felt like a blade drawn for me. Now that blade was drawn for Vivian.

I closed my eyes. "I understand."

He seemed relieved. His tone softened. "That's more like Mrs. Bellandi."

He didn't take me home. Instead, he drove back to the company. Eleven minutes before midnight, we pushed open the door to the top-floor office. Vivian was curled in his chair with an old noir film playing across the wall screen, one of his white shirts slipping off her shoulder.

The second she saw Matteo, her eyes lit up. She ran to him and wrapped both hands around his arm. "You're finally back. I watched that movie twice waiting for you."

Matteo wasn't angry. He picked up a cashmere throw from the sofa and wrapped it around her shoulders. "If you're tired, sleep here for a while."

When he looked at me again, the warmth was gone. "Sofia, give Vivian all the Lark Harbor data. The Port Authority signing is the day after tomorrow. She needs to get familiar with it."

Lark Harbor was a port-security system we had started two years ago.

Once the project launched, Bellandi Group would finally break into Chicago's real inner circle.

I looked at him. "That eager?"

Vivian smiled before he could answer. "Sofia, don't take it the wrong way. Matteo just wants me to help you. You can't do everything yourself forever, can you?"

She made help sound generous. Her eyes said she was already sitting in my chair.

I nodded. "Fine. I'll organize it."

Matteo paused, clearly surprised I had given in so easily. Vivian yawned, and he immediately turned away, picking up his car keys. "I'll take you home first."

"I knew you loved me best." Vivian leaned against his shoulder with no shame at all.

After they left, I copied the files I could afford to lose into the company system. The real master key and the final partner list went into my own bag.

Then I sent my divorce materials to my attorney and posted one line in an encrypted channel visible only to Chicago's old families and legacy capital.

[Bellandi Group and Sofia Bellandi are entering divorce proceedings. Effective immediately, I no longer stand behind Bellandi Group.]

After I sent it, I stared at the screen for a long time.

Matteo, you thought you gave me a lakefront house, a few cars, and the title of Mrs. Bellandi. What you never understood was that for the past three years, the person holding you up had always been me.

Chapter 2

At one in the morning, I returned to the lakefront villa. Vivian's laughter drifted from the master bedroom.

My clothes and shoes had been stuffed into cardboard boxes and shoved into a corner. The walk-in closet was full of new gowns and coats, tags still hanging from them, all in Vivian's size. She stood in front of the mirror with two dresses pressed to her body while Matteo stood beside her, choosing which color would look better on camera tomorrow.

That was when I understood. She wasn't here to crash for a few nights. She was trying on my life, and Matteo was holding the door open for her.

When he saw me, guilt flickered through his eyes.

Vivian turned around, her smile deepening. "Sofia, you're home. Matteo said some drunk kept circling my lobby tonight, so he told me to stay here for a few days. You don't mind, do you?"

I looked at the boxes in the corner, and something heavy lodged in my chest. I had helped choose her apartment. It had the best security in the neighborhood.

I didn't argue. I only said, "I'm tired. Keep it down."

Matteo looked stunned. He must have expected me to blow up, to interrogate him, to soften the second he offered one practiced explanation. I simply turned and went to the guest room.

Halfway through the night, the door opened quietly. Matteo lay down behind me and tried to pull me into his arms. His voice was low, almost tender. "Sofia, whenever you pretend to sleep, you grip the blanket too tight."

He smelled of warm amber. Vivian's perfume. My stomach turned. I shoved him away. "Matteo, let's get divorced."

He stared at me for a few seconds, then laughed. "Turns out women really do know women. Vivian said you'd threaten me with divorce tonight. I told her you weren't that petty."

He picked up his phone and sent Vivian a voice message. "You win. The necklace is yours tomorrow."

Cold spread through me until my fingers went numb. He had turned our marriage into a bet with her.

"I'm serious."

Matteo's face finally darkened. "Stop making a scene. You live in a lakefront villa, drive cars I paid for, and never have to worry about a bill. Sofia, what else do you want from me?"

I was about to answer when frantic footsteps pounded down the hall. Vivian shoved the door open, sobbing so hard she could barely breathe. "Matteo, it's Lark. He fell off the dock!"

Matteo didn't hesitate. He grabbed his coat and keys and ran out. The huge villa went quiet. I was the only one left inside.

I sat on the edge of the bed as a message from my lawyer flashed across my phone. My jewelry, vehicles, and shares in Bellandi Group had all been moved into a trust account. The divorce petition could be filed at any time.

I had just replied when the door slammed open again. Vivian rushed in, eyes swollen red, and shoved me with both hands. My shoulder slammed into the bedpost. Pain burst down my arm.

"It was you!" she screamed. "You hired someone to shove Lark off the dock! If you hate me, come after me. Why would you hurt a two-year-old boy?"

Matteo came in behind her. He caught her as carefully as if she were made of glass. When he looked at me, his eyes were colder than I had ever seen them. "Sofia, you'd go after a child because you're jealous?"

I forced myself up, gripping the cabinet as pain shook through me. "I didn't do it. Call the police. Check the cameras."

Vivian dropped to her knees in front of me and grabbed my wrist. Her nails dug so deep they nearly broke skin. "Sofia, I was wrong. I shouldn't have gotten close to Matteo. Please, just let my son go. He just came out of emergency care. He can't take any more."

Chapter 3

The flicker of hesitation in Matteo's eyes vanished. He pulled Vivian to her feet and turned to me. "Apologize."

"I did nothing wrong." I looked him straight in the face. "So no."

Vivian cried harder, and as she lifted her hand to wipe her tears, a ruby bracelet slid from her sleeve. It was my mother's, the only family token I had taken with me when I left the Valenti house. On our wedding night, I had placed it in Matteo's palm and told him I was giving him the most important thing I owned.

I stared at the bracelet. "Why is that on her wrist?"

Vivian flinched as if I had threatened her. In a panic too neat to be real, she yanked it off. The ruby hit the floor, the clasp snapped, and tiny diamonds scattered across the carpet.

I lunged forward without thinking. A shard sliced my finger, blood dripping into the fibers.

Matteo frowned. "It's just a bracelet. I'll buy you ten more."

I knelt on the floor and picked up the broken stones one by one. Ice seemed lodged in my throat. I couldn't even cry.

Then the hospital aide called on video. On the screen, the little boy lay curled under a thermal blanket, a pulse monitor clipped to his finger. His sobs came thin and broken. Vivian leaned close and cooed, "Be good, Lark. Tomorrow is your second birthday. Whatever you want, Mommy and Daddy will give it to you."

Lark. Lark Harbor. Two years ago, late at night, Matteo had held me and said Lark Harbor was for our future. He said when the project officially launched, he would give me a surprise.

So that was the surprise. It had never been for me. From the name itself, the project had been a gift paved for Vivian and her son.

Matteo took a document from his briefcase and threw it in front of me. "Sign it. Transfer the Lark Harbor authorization to Vivian. Consider it compensation for what you did to Lark."

The words permanent transfer of authorization stabbed into my eyes. "I won't sign."

Vivian sobbed quietly. "Don't force her. Maybe Lark and I were just born unlucky. Maybe we don't deserve something this good."

Matteo pulled her into his arms, gentle enough to make me sick. "Only in your hands will it not be wasted."

He nodded to the bodyguards. They pinned me to the cold desk. Pain tore through my bruised shoulder until I could barely breathe.

I lifted my head and looked at him. "Matteo, you're going to regret this."

He looked down at me with no pity in his eyes. "When you do something wrong, you pay for it. Sign this, and we can still be husband and wife."

Someone grabbed my hand, pressed my thumb into the ink pad, and forced it down at the end of the contract.

Joy flashed in Vivian's eyes. Matteo took the agreement and left with her. When the door closed, my heart finally died.

I struggled to my feet, closed my fist around the broken ruby bracelet, and dialed a number I hadn't called in three years.

When the line connected, the other side was silent. Salvatore Valenti, the don of the Valenti family, never needed to raise his voice to stop Chicago’s night in its tracks.

My voice shook. “Dad, I want to come home.”

For two seconds, he said nothing. Then his answer came, low and furious.

“Who dared lay a hand on my daughter?”

Two hours later, Matteo was at the private hospital with Vivian and Lark, celebrating the child’s survival as if he had not just buried his marriage.

His phone rang, sharp.

His secretary’s voice nearly cracked. “Mr. Bellandi, something huge happened. You need to come to the company right now.”