The Mafia Heiress's Revenge

Looking at the smile on Lucas’s face, I knew he and Chloe weren't joking.

I immediately snatched my hand out of his grip.

Lucas felt my sudden pull and looked down at me. "What’s wrong, Irina? Are you too tired?"

He unbuttoned his suit jacket and draped it over my shoulders.

Chloe swirled her wine glass across the table and taunted him in Italian. "Look at her face flushing. If she knew we tried every single corner of your future bridal suite last night, do you think she’d cry her eyes out?"

Lucas paused. For a split second, a flicker of guilt flashed in his eyes as he looked at me. But he turned back and answered Chloe in Italian anyway.

"She’ll get used to it eventually," he said smoothly. "The future Don of a rising family isn't meant to have only one woman."

The guys in the booth who understood Italian burst into even louder laughter.

So that was how he truly saw things.

Over the past three years, as the Vance family’s power skyrocketed, plenty of underworld associates had tried to send beautiful women Lucas’s way. He had always rejected them with visible disgust, even kicking one caporegime out of his circle entirely, swearing to the world that his heart belonged only to me.

I used to believe he was a man of rare honor. Now I realized it was all just a carefully curated lie.

Amid the deafening laughter, Lucas leaned close to my ear, switching back to sweet, comforting English. "If you’re really exhausted, sweetheart, why don't you head home and rest first? Tomorrow is our big day."

It felt absurd. I looked him dead in the eye. "What were you two just talking about?"

Lucas didn't flinch for a second. "We were just talking about you becoming Mrs. Vance tomorrow. Everyone’s jealous of how deeply in love we are."

Chloe slid closer, putting her arm around mine with sickening intimacy. "That's right, Irina. Don't worry, I’ll always be right here by your side."

Looking at her hypocritical face, every nerve in my body screamed at me to reply in Italian: Save your fake sweet talk.That’s not what you were just saying.

Before I could utter a word, Chloe suddenly clutched her stomach and bent double. "Ah... it hurts so bad again."

Lucas’s reaction was instantaneous. He yanked his arm away from my waist so fast that I lost my balance, nearly tumbling to the floor.

He didn't even bother to look back at me. He lunged forward, gathering Chloe into his arms.

As Chloe rested her head against his shoulder, her back turned to Lucas, she shot me a quick, malicious wink.

I saw it clearly. And in that second, the truth hit me like ice water.

I had always believed Chloe suffered from severe, chronic stomach ulcers. Whenever we were out and she complained of pain, Lucas would drop everything to drive her home, no matter how late it was.

It was never an ulcer. It was their dirty little code.

Lucas finally turned to me, his face filled with urgency. "Chloe’s stomach issue is acting up again. I need to take her to the hospital."

He hesitated briefly, then walked over to me. "I’ll get the driver take you home. I’ll be back soon."

I took a step back, letting his jacket slide off my shoulders. "Don't bother. I don't want to sign those papers tomorrow."

Lucas blinked, completely missing the dead coldness in my voice. He assumed I was just being a jealous, dramatic fiancee.

He smiled. "Baby, are you really getting jealous of your best friend? You know how bad her stomach is."

He then leaned down to press a kiss to my forehead. "I’ll be back soon. Are you just nervous about tomorrow? Be a good girl. You’re the only one I’m marrying."

Without waiting for a response, he carried Chloe out the door.

I rushed after them, but the car door slammed shut right in my face.

A split second before the window rolled up completely, Chloe whispered to Lucas in Italian, her voice dripping with dirty sweetness. "What do you want me to dress up as later, master? The bunny or the little maid?"

Lucas let out a low chuckle as he hit the gas and drove off into the dark.

I stood alone on the curb, the cold night wind cutting through my clothes.

Three years ago, I walked away from the throne of the Moretti family—from the blood, the guns, and the supreme power of the Cosa Nostra. I hid my identity for one reason, I wanted real love. I wanted a man who fell in love with Irina, not the empire behind my name.

I had even planned to reveal the truth after our registration, to hand him the keys to the kingdom he could only dream of.

How utterly laughable.

I pulled out my phone and dialed my father, the supreme Don of the Cosa Nostra.

"Dad, cut all ties with the Vance family. I’m coming home in three days."

I watched the taillights of Lucas’s car vanish into the dark, and every ounce of my support died.

I knew the simple truth: without my family’s iron grip behind him, Lucas Vance was nothing.

He was just a puppet riding on my talent. The moment I walked away, his pretend empire was destined to turn to ashes.

Because he didn't build an empire. I built it for him.