Chapter 1

Fifteen days before my wedding, I caught my fiancé, Ryan, sleeping with another woman in our bridal bed.

So I went and slept with a more expensive man. Luca.

Ryan insisted I was only throwing a tantrum, and the wedding preparations went on as usual.

He even sneered in front of our friends, "Maya, you're a broke little mechanic. Who would want you after you leave me?"

The next second, a million-dollar Aston Martin stopped in front of me, and Luca opened the door for me himself.

Ryan went pale because he recognized Luca Moretti, New York's most dangerous Mafia heir.

I thought Luca and I were just having fun.

Until he gave me opportunities again and again, stood behind me when I needed him, and even let me into Moretti's most confidential racing program.

I finally panicked and decided to draw a line between us. Then I saw a name in his files: Maya Sullivan.

That was my name before I turned fifteen. Beneath it were the words: Anonymous Sponsor: Luca Moretti.

I stared at that line, my hands starting to shake.

The man I had slept with was the sponsor I had kept in my heart for six years.

Maya's POV

Fifteen days before my wedding, I caught Ryan sleeping with another woman in our bridal bed.

That day, I got off work two hours early because I wanted to surprise him. I was carrying his favorite cheese pizza when I opened the door and heard those suggestive sounds coming from the bedroom.

I stood frozen in the entryway for a long time.

For this wedding, I had stopped staying up late, started learning to cook, and sold my favorite motorcycle. I had even agreed to Ryan's plan that after we got married, I would sell the little garage my dad left me and find a steady job at a Moretti Automotive repair center.

Ryan said that once we were married, I wouldn't need to spend every day crawling under cars. He would be my strongest, most dependable support.

I believed him.

All my life, people had told me to play it safe. My dad died early. I had no family money and no one to catch me if I fell. One wrong step could hurt me far worse than it hurt anyone else. And for the past few years, Ryan had always been there.

Then the bedroom door opened.

Ryan was wearing nothing but his pants. When he saw me, he froze for a second. Then, unbelievably, he frowned. "Didn't you say you wouldn't get off until ten tonight?"

I lifted the pizza in my hand. "I wanted to surprise you. Looks like you're the one who gave me a surprise."

The woman behind him hurriedly got dressed and slipped past me. I knew her. She was the new assistant at Ryan's office.

After the door closed, Ryan dragged a hand down his face. "Don't start making a scene."

I looked at him. "Do I look like I'm making a scene?"

"I know this looks bad, but the wedding is only half a month away. The hotel, the guests, the invitations, everything is already set. We're about to be husband and wife. I just made one little mistake every adult makes. You're not really going to ruin the wedding over this, are you?"

He looked so wronged, as if the moment I refused to pretend nothing had happened, I would become the one destroying the wedding.

I asked, "How long has this been going on?"

Ryan said nothing.

"Three months?"

He still didn't answer.

Suddenly, I didn't want to know.

I put the pizza on the table, took off my engagement ring, and threw it into the trash. "The wedding is canceled."

Ryan's expression finally changed. He grabbed my wrist. "Maya, can you be a little more mature?"

I laughed from pure anger. "If I wasn't mature, I would have smeared that hot pizza all over your face."

Maybe he heard the sarcasm in my voice. His tone grew harsher. "Fine. You want to say it like that? Then look at yourself. You're twenty-one, covered in motor oil all day, and your nails are never clean. Other women are picking wedding dresses, and you're under cars tearing apart transmissions. My mom already thinks you come from nothing. We even have to split the wedding expenses fifty-fifty. Haven't I compromised enough for you?"

I couldn't stop myself from laughing.

So the equality I had believed in was called compromise in his eyes.

I thought he wanted me to sell the garage because he worried I was working too hard. I had even seriously considered taking fewer overnight repair jobs after we married, learning to live the normal life he wanted, becoming the kind of wife he thought was respectable.

Ryan kept going. "I just want you to act like a woman fit to be married."

I nodded and pulled my wrist free. "Sorry. I can't be that woman in this lifetime. Go find someone else."

I turned and left. His voice followed me. "Try taking one more step! Who besides me is ever going to marry you?"

I never slowed down. I never looked back.

The wind outside the building was cold. Only then did my tears begin to fall.

My phone lit up almost immediately.

Ryan: Stop being childish. We still have to taste the wedding menu tomorrow.

I blocked him.

To hell with his stability and maturity.

For twenty-one years, I had listened to people tell me how I was supposed to live.

When I started my old Ford pickup, I slammed my foot down on the gas.

Twenty minutes later, I saw a black Aston Martin pulled over on a country road.

A man stood beside it in a black shirt, his suit jacket draped over one arm. He looked about thirty. Two men who looked like bodyguards stood nearby.

I had already driven past when I heard an odd, muffled sound from the engine as it started.

Occupational habit made me hit the brakes. I backed up, rolled down my window, and said, "Start it again."

One of the bodyguards frowned. "We've already called roadside assistance."

Fine. My mistake for sticking my nose in.

I shut my mouth and was about to leave. But the man opened the hood himself. "Please take a look."

A few minutes later, I found the problem and secured the fuel line again. "Try it now."

The engine came back to life.

The man glanced at the dashboard, then at me. "You're a mechanic?"

"I am."

He smiled. It was a beautiful smile.

But I had been disappointed by men enough for one day. I had no interest in admiring him. "Eighty dollars."

A bodyguard handed me a thick stack of cash. I took eighty and gave the rest back.

The man lifted an eyebrow. "The rest is a tip."

"I don't need it."

"Not enough?"

"I only take what I earn."

He watched me for two seconds and, surprisingly, didn't insist.

I turned to go, but he called after me. "Your name?"

"Maya."

"Your last name?"

I opened my truck door. "You don't need to know that much."

I drove away.

In the rearview mirror, the man was still standing there, watching me.

At the time, I had no idea he would completely wreck the life I had planned so carefully.