Chapter 1

I was the mafia heiress's secret lover, and her most trusted right-hand man for six years.

I took bullets for her, fought her wars, and barely clawed my way back from death after three days in critical condition.

When I opened my eyes, the usually cold and untouchable heiress had tears streaming down her face.

Not for me.

Her first love—the golden boy who left years ago—had just returned.

Completely heartbroken, I walked away for good.

Yet she hunted me down, broke my legs, and chained me to her bed. Stroking the bullet scar across my chest, she whispered intoxicatingly in my ear:

"Stop running, baby. I was wrong, okay? Please, just stay."

Struggling to open my eyes in the hospital bed, I heard Elena crying. My heart shattered for her, and despite the tearing agony in my chest, I pushed myself up, desperate to hold her.

Instead, I found her wrapped in another man's arms. He smiled down at her with gentle adoration.

I knew that man all too well. Julian Sterling—the boy Elena had secretly pined after for years.

The three of us grew up together. Julian was from a wealthy, respected family. Charming, handsome, effortlessly radiant—he was always the star in any room.

I was merely the nameless shadow in the background. An orphan taken in off the streets by the Vance family, what right did I have to dream?

I supposed I should thank Julian. When he left the country, Elena realized just how deeply she loved him. One night, drowning in liquor, she mistook me for him.

The morning after our reckless night, she pulled on her silk robe, looked at the chaos across the sheets, lit a cigarette, and blew the smoke directly into my face.

"Let’s just keep things like this, Julian."

I forced a smile and nodded, instantly hiding the crushing sorrow in my eyes. My name is Damian. I knew damn well that name slipping from her lips wasn't meant for me.

Julian seemed to notice I was awake. Immediately, his hands slid around Elena's waist, pressing his lips against her pale mouth.

Elena shivered. Her fingers tangled into his hair. After a second of hesitation, she yielded completely, returning his kiss with an intensity that burned my eyes.

I clenched my fists. The wound in my chest still screamed with agony, but I couldn't feel it anymore. My heart was already torn to shreds.

In all the years she had used me as Julian's replacement, she had never smiled with such pure, unadulterated bliss.

I slowly closed my eyes. The panic on her face when I took that bullet flashed through my mind, and I let out a bitter smirk.

Even if you only cared a tiny bit... it was enough. As long as you're happy, Elena.

The sounds in the room began to fade. Would she take Julian home? To that penthouse where she and I had lived and slept in the same bed for six years?

Six years, and the security code was still Julian's birthday. The interior decor was still Julian's favorite minimalist style.

Tears spilled over my cheeks. When my left arm was nearly pulverized in a street brawl, I didn't cry. When a slug nearly punctured my heart, I didn't cry.

Yet right now, curled beneath the thin hospital sheet, I buried my face in a pillow and sobbed like a broken child.

Get it together, Damian. You're pathetic.

I wiped my tears, ripped out the IV needles, and slipped back to our penthouse unnoticed.

Unsurprisingly, a trail of discarded clothes led straight to the master bedroom. The wreckage in the living room whispered of a desperate, long-awaited reunion.

The bedroom door was cracked open. I didn't dare walk closer. I was terrified that if I saw them, I wouldn't be able to stop myself from putting a bullet through Julian's skull.

Outside, a faint dusting of snow began to fall. It hit me then—today was my birthday.

Last year, Elena had spent it with me at an amusement park. The lethal, untouchable mafia queen had actually pulled a tiny cupcake out on the Ferris wheel, blushing as she softly wished me a happy birthday.

The year before that, she had stayed up late in this very kitchen, clumsily making a homemade breakfast spread, blowing on the hot coffee before setting it in front of me.

For six straight years, neither of us had ever missed the other's birthday. But today, I was completely alone.

I picked up the luxury watch lying discarded on the floor—the one I had gifted her months ago.

I swapped out my SIM card, grabbed my passport, and caught the earliest red-eye flight to a coastal town in Mexico.

When the plane touched down, I booted up my phone. A breaking headline flashed on the screen: The Vance and Sterling Empires Announce Historic Merger Through Marriage.

I let out a self-deprecating laugh. Pressing the hidden latch on the watch, a diamond ring popped out. I had planned to propose to Elena right after surviving that suicidal mission.

What a joke. Even if I had bled to death protecting her, she wouldn't have cared.

What was I to her? A convenient warm body? A loyal soldier? A ghost?

I dropped the ring into the airport toilet and flushed it down. It was time to bury my love for her once and for all.

I carried only a duffel bag when I found Uncle Frank's bar. He was at the counter, laughing with a couple of female patrons.

He welcomed me with open arms, giving me a safe room and a quiet job.