"THE MAFIA BOSS WATCHED ME SERVE HIS ENGAGEMENT DINNER WITH MY HAIR COVERING ONE EYE—THEN HIS FIANCÉE SAID, “SHE HIT HER FACE ON THE PANTRY DOOR,” BEFORE HE HAD EVEN ASKED WHAT HAPPENED.

The main dining hall was a masterpiece of old-world Italian luxury.

Crystal chandeliers hung from mahogany beams, casting brilliant light across a long oak table set with silver plate, fine china, and red roses.

Twenty guests were already seated when Luca and I descended the grand staircase.

At the far end of the table sat Don Vito Bellini—a wide, gray-haired man with heavy eyes and a brutal reputation—flanked by his two sons, Marco and Matteo.

Beside Vito's empty head seat sat Vanessa, wearing a stunning gown of midnight-blue silk. She was laughing, sipping champagne, completely unaware of what had transpired in Boston six hours earlier.

When the heavy double doors of the dining hall opened, the room fell into a polite silence.

Luca entered first, holding out his arm.

I stepped into the room beside him, my hand resting securely on his forearm. The emerald velvet dress swept quietly against the floor. My chin was held high, my dark hair pulled back into an elegant chignon that left my neck—and the dark bruise on my left cheekbone—completely exposed for the room to see.

Gasps rippled down the table.

Vanessa’s glass stopped halfway to her lips. Her eyes bulged, her face going from porcelain pale to a mottled, ugly red in less than two seconds.

"Luca?!" Vanessa gasped, standing up so fast her silk gown caught on her chair. "What is the meaning of this?! Why is the... why is the maid dressed like that?!"

Don Vito Bellini frowned, his dark eyebrows pulling together as he looked from me to Luca. "Luca? Who is this young woman?"

Luca led me smoothly to the head of the table. He pulled out the heavy carved chair directly to his right—the seat meant for the maid of honor—and motioned for me to sit.

I sat down gracefully, smoothing my velvet skirt.

"This is Olivia Hayes," Luca announced, his deep voice echoing effortlessly through the massive hall. "My personal advisor and executive assistant."

"Assistant?!" Vanessa practically shrieked, pointing a manicured finger at me. "She was scrubbing the guest bathroom yesterday! She's a servant, Luca! You can't seat a servant at the Bellini family table!"

"Olivia is no longer a servant, Vanessa," Luca said smoothly, taking his seat at the head of the table. "And as for her presence tonight... she earned this seat by demonstrating exceptional loyalty to the Moretti name."

Don Vito watched Luca carefully. He was an old snake, used to recognizing power plays. His eyes drifted to my face, fixing on the dark purple swelling beneath my eye.

"That's quite a mark on her face, Luca," Vito noted in his raspy, gravelly voice. "Looks like she took a heavy blow."

"It was an assault, Don Vito," Luca said, taking a sip of his wine. "Occurred upstairs in my guest room yesterday afternoon. Someone struck her and tried to frame it as a pantry door accident."

Vanessa’s hands began to tremble. She quickly set her champagne glass down, though a small splash spilled onto the white tablecloth. "Luca, darling, we discussed this last night. She tripped. Why are you dragging this old nonsense up in front of my father?"

"Because, Vanessa," Luca said, his eyes locking onto hers with terrifying precision, "the man who struck her wasn't a cabinet door. His name is William Mercer."

The room went dead silent.

Vanessa froze. The color completely drained from her lips. "I... I don't know who that is."

"Really?" Luca raised an eyebrow. "That's strange. Because Daniel pulled the security footage from the hallway. Mercer entered the guest room with you at three forty-seven yesterday afternoon. And at four-nine, he shoved Olivia into the doorframe when she caught him taking files from my private safe."

Marco and Matteo Bellini—Vanessa's brothers—exchanged sharp, suspicious glances.

"Vanessa..." Don Vito growled low in his chest, turning his heavy head toward his daughter. "Who is William Mercer?"

"He's... he's nobody!" Vanessa stammered, her voice cracking as panic finally pierced her pristine facade. "Luca is confused! He's making things up because he's stressed about the wedding!"

"Am I?" Luca clicked his fingers.

The double doors at the back of the room opened.

Daniel stepped inside, carrying a large silver tray. On the tray sat a sleek tablet connected to the room's overhead projector system.

With a single tap, the large white wall behind the head table illuminated.

A high-definition security video began playing.

There was Vanessa, standing in the upstairs hallway with William Mercer. There was the audio—crystal clear—recorded from the hidden ceiling microphones Luca had installed months ago:

“Make sure the photographs are delivered to Elena today,” Vanessa’s recorded voice echoed through the dining hall. “Tell her Luca has been sleeping with me for five years. Drive her crazy enough to release the Moretti ledgers. Once she drops them, I’ll take control of his legal assets before the wedding.”

The entire room erupted.

Don Vito slammed both fists onto the table, shattering a crystal wine glass. "WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?!"

Vanessa fell back into her chair, her eyes wide with horror as her own voice continued to play across the room, laying bare every single detail of her treason against both the Moretti family and her own father.

Luca didn't shout. He didn't raise his voice.