Chapter 1

In the third year of their secret marriage, Matteo, the newly appointed head of the Moretti Family, requested a Black Rose Ring at the Dowager's seventieth birthday banquet.

He stood at the center of the hotel ballroom, a gentle smile on his face. "There's a woman who stood by me through my darkest days and even saved my life during that assassination attempt. I want her to wear the Moretti Family's highest ring of protection. She's here tonight."

The room erupted in whispers.

Everyone knew Matteo was composed and restrained, never discussing his personal life in public. A few of the old bosses allied with the Moretti Family were the first to egg him on, urging him to bring the woman forward.

My heart gave a small flutter. Matteo had never told me about this.

Back then, he had been the most overlooked heir in the Moretti Family. I used the shipping company my mother left me to move cargo and funnel funds for him, and I dragged him out of a warehouse filled with toxic gas. It left my heart permanently damaged and half my face scarred.

Matteo took the Black Rose Ring from the Dowager's hand and, under everyone's gaze, stepped down from the stage.

The ballroom fell silent.

The black diamond flashed in the cold light as Matteo crossed toward the far end of the women's tables.

I alone felt ice flooding through my veins. He wasn't coming toward me.

Matteo stopped in front of my half-sister, Lydia. He slipped the ring onto her right hand, his voice tender. "Lydia was born out of wedlock. She's spent her whole life being looked down on, and what she needs most is a status no one can sneer at. Elena, you're the legitimate Rossi daughter. You own ports, and you're my lawful wife. You've always been generous. You wouldn't begrudge her one empty title."

I swallowed the taste of blood rising in my throat, turned away, and snapped the last vial of antidote—the dose he would desperately need the following month.

Chapter 1

"Lydia was born out of wedlock. She's spent her whole life being looked down on, and what she needs most is a status no one can sneer at. Elena, you're the legitimate Rossi daughter. You own ports, and you're my lawful wife. You've always been generous. You wouldn't begrudge her one empty title."

Matteo's voice wasn't loud, yet it carried through the ballroom speakers to every table.

That voice had whispered in my ear countless times, promising that once he secured his position as head of the Family, he would reveal our marriage and make everyone who had looked down on me bow their heads. Now, in front of every boss, politician, and business partner, it had become a blade driven into my chest.

I sat in the seat reserved for Rossi Shipping's representative, watching Matteo in his black formal suit. The Black Rose Ring in his hand was only ever given to the head's wife or his most trusted blood relative. Wearing it meant that every Moretti casino, club, and port would offer the bearer protection, and anyone who offended her would face Family justice.

But Matteo didn't walk toward me.

He leaned down and slid the ring firmly onto Lydia's finger. A blush rose to her cheeks, and triumph flashed in her eyes before she turned to me, feigning timidity. "Elena, this should have been yours. I wouldn't dare accept it."

Matteo held her wrist, his voice indulgent to the point of doting. "You're not well. You deserve this protection."

Every gaze in the room shifted to me. Some were sympathetic, some mocking, and others simply waiting to see whether the secret wife would lose control in public.

I kept my back straight and met every pair of eyes. Bit by bit, I swallowed the metallic sweetness rising in my throat, a lingering aftereffect of charging into that gas-filled warehouse to save him three years ago.

Inside my clutch, I tightened my grip on the custom-made vial. The slender glass ampoule cracked in my palm, and the pale amber liquid seeped into my handkerchief.

This was the last dose of medicine keeping the toxin in Matteo's body at bay. To persuade a private European lab to resume production of the formula, I had searched for three full years and sold two of the cargo ships my mother left me.

Now, it was no longer needed.

When the banquet ended, Chicago's night wind cut to the bone. Matteo stood by the black sedan outside the hotel entrance and reached to help me in, as he always did.

I stepped past his hand and got into the back seat on my own. His hand hung in the air for a moment before he withdrew it as though nothing had happened and climbed in as well.

The car smelled of his usual cedarwood cologne. Matteo poured a cup of warm water and pushed it in front of me. "Still angry? Tonight's arrangement was sudden, I admit, but Lydia had a scare a few days ago, and her doctor says she's emotionally fragile. The ring will put her at ease. You've always been understanding. Just let her have it this once."

He said it as if what he had taken from me was just a piece of jewelry, not the status and dignity he had once promised.

I didn't touch the water. I said calmly, "You're right."

Matteo frowned slightly. Whenever he hurt me before, I would argue with him or ask why through tear-reddened eyes. He had long grown accustomed to my patience and to my eventually giving in. Now that I wasn't fighting back, he was the one unsettled.

He sighed and took a paper box from beside the car's mini fridge. "I know you're unhappy, so I had someone pick up almond cookies from that old shop. Your favorite. Try one."

The sight of the pastry held to my lips struck me as absurd. I didn't like almond cookies. I was allergic to almonds.

Back when he hadn't yet taken over as head of the Family, he hid in a cheap apartment on the South Side to recover from his injuries, and the only thing he would eat was almond cookies from that shop. I stood in line every day to buy them for him. So he wouldn't worry, I ate them too. Every time the allergy flared, I hid the rash under high-collared clothes. Three years, and he had never once noticed.

"Why aren't you eating?" he asked.

"I'm full."

I turned to look out the window. Windblown snow smeared the streetlights into blurred bands. Matteo put the cookie back in the box, his tone cooling. "Elena, stop being unreasonable. I've already promised to give you a proper explanation. Once things settle down, I'll publicly acknowledge you as my wife and the rightful lady of the Moretti house."

A proper explanation.

The corners of my mouth twitched, but I made no sound. I opened the hand I had hidden inside my coat and slowly wiped the medicine from between my fingers with the handkerchief. The pale amber stain vanished into the fabric, as if taking the last of my seven years of devotion with it.

After returning to the Moretti estate, I went straight to the North Wing. Matteo didn't follow. He went to the East Wing, where Lydia lived.

My maid Mara removed my earrings, her eyes red. "Ma'am, how could he humiliate you in public like that?"

I looked into the mirror. The faint burn scar on my left cheek came from saving Matteo. I peeled away the makeup concealing it, layer by layer, and said only, "It's fine. Mara, first thing tomorrow morning, bring me the ledgers and authorization documents from the safe. I need to settle the accounts."

Chapter 2

The next morning, the fog on the lake hadn't lifted before Lydia, flanked by two bodyguards, entered the North Wing.

The Black Rose Ring still sat on her right hand, its black diamond painfully bright in the morning light. Without waiting for an invitation, she settled onto the sofa and took a leisurely sip of coffee. "Did you sleep well last night, Elena? Matteo stayed with me. He went on about how understanding you are and asked me to come check on you."

I flipped through the secret ledger in my hands without looking up. "Seen enough? The door's behind you."

Lydia's expression froze for a split second. She walked to my desk and lowered her voice. "Why so cold? I know you resent me, but love was never about who got the marriage certificate first. You may be the legitimate daughter of the Rossi family, but who gets to sit beside Matteo comes down to who he wants."

I turned a page in the ledger, my fingertip tapping the old-fashioned calculator on the desk. The crisp, rhythmic clicks drowned out her provocation.

Lydia bit her lip and reached for the black ledger on the corner of the desk, the one documenting underground payments. The instant footsteps sounded outside the door, she let go, stumbled backward, and knocked over the ink bottle beside her.

Black ink splashed all over her. She screamed and crumpled onto the carpet, tears spilling over at once.

Matteo had just walked into the study. He crossed the room in two strides and helped Lydia up. "What happened?"

Lydia leaned into his arms, trembling. "Don't blame Elena. It was my fault. I was only trying to help her organize the ledgers. She's probably still upset about last night."

Matteo's face darkened. He turned to me. I was still sitting behind the desk, holding the ink-stained page.

"Elena, Lydia isn't well. If you're angry, take it out on me. There's no need to give her a hard time."

I looked at the way he shielded Lydia behind him. He didn't even have the patience to ask what had actually happened.

"I didn't touch her."

Matteo's frown deepened. "You didn't use to be like this. You were always composed. When did you become so petty?"

Petty.

I lowered my eyes. The page smeared with ink recorded a dock warehouse I had mortgaged years ago to help him secure connections at City Hall.

"If you've decided it was me, then it was me." I set the ledger down and wiped my hands with a handkerchief.

My calm threw Matteo off. He swallowed his anger and continued. "Lydia is shaken. She needs rest. I remember you have a box of imported liver-repair injections in your medicine cabinet. Send them over to her. Her immune system has been terrible lately. She could use them."

That box of injections was the last batch produced by my mother's medical company before it shut down. It was also the medicine keeping the poison in my system in check and the blood vessels around my heart functioning.

I looked at the entitlement on his face and answered flatly. "They're gone."

Matteo's expression turned to ice. "Elena, do you have to throw this household into chaos before you're satisfied? It's just a box of medicine. Do you have to fight her over that too?"

I wasn't fighting. I simply didn't want to give anymore.

I pulled open the drawer, took out the Moretti estate's black ledger and the brass authorization seal, and placed them on the desk. "Since you think I'm petty, I'm done. The estate accounts, the legitimate company expenditures, the fund transfers for the clubs. Let her take over."

Matteo froze. So did Lydia.

Over the past three years, the Moretti Family's public-facing hotels, construction company, and security firm had enormous overhead. Its illicit operations were a bottomless pit. To maintain the Family's prestige, Matteo refused to let outsiders know the finances were stretched thin. Every shortfall had been covered with profits from Rossi Shipping.

He stared at the seal. "Are you threatening me?"

"No. I'm returning what was never mine."

Matteo let out a cold laugh. "Very well. Don't come crying about it later."

He put his arm around Lydia and left the North Wing. Mara's eyes brimmed with tears. "Ma'am, did you really hand over the accounts? What will happen to this household?"

"What happens to this household is no longer my concern."

I tossed the ink-ruined page into the fireplace. The flames leapt across the paper. I watched those numbers crumble to ash and suddenly felt very cold. The residual toxins in my body were about to flare again.

Chapter 3

That night, Chicago saw its first heavy snow since winter began.

A coughing fit seized me again. My throat felt scored by a blade, and every breath tasted of blood. Mara went to the supply office for heating fuel but came back empty-handed. "Ma'am, the steward says all the backup fuel has been sent to the East Wing. Miss Lydia is sensitive to cold. It was on the master's direct orders."

I leaned against the headboard and pulled the old cashmere blanket tighter. "It's fine. Have a plain car ready tomorrow morning. I need to go to the South Side."

Early the next day, I put on a mask and slipped out through the estate's side gate. The roads were still covered in snow, and the car crawled along.

I went to an unmarked private clinic on the South Side. The attending physician was Gabriel Ferraro. He came from a family of doctors who had worked with the Moretti Family for generations, yet he refused to cover up the carnage left by any boss. He simply kept the clinic running and treated the people in the neighborhood.

Three years ago, I had charged into a warehouse laced with a toxic agent and dragged an unconscious Matteo out. Gabriel was the one who pulled us both back from the brink of death.

After the examination, Gabriel's frown deepened with every result. "The toxin has damaged the blood vessels in your heart. You inhaled a heavier dose than Matteo, and you gave him the first batch of stabilizer. Your body has been deteriorating for years. Without the repair injections, you have three months at most."

Three months.

I looked at the faint blue-black tint surfacing on my fingertips and laughed. "That's enough."

Gabriel was silent for a moment. "Matteo doesn't know?"

"He doesn't need to. Just give me some painkillers. I only have to make it through these three months."

He didn't try to dissuade me. He only placed a small packet of sugar on top of the medicine bag. "The pills are bitter. Don't take them on an empty stomach."

"Thank you." I picked up the medicine and left the clinic.

By the time I returned to the estate, it was already dark. The North Wing was dead silent, with only my bedroom light on.

Matteo was sitting by the window, turning an empty glass in his hand. When he saw me come in, he looked up. "Where were you?"

His gaze settled on my mask, scrutinizing.

"I picked up a few things." I handed the medicine bag to Mara and sat down on the opposite side.

Matteo set the glass down. His tone softened a fraction. "Still sulking about the accounts? Lydia mishandled three payments today. She nearly wired the legitimate contribution meant for a city council member into a shell company under investigation. Go clean up her mess tomorrow."

His tone was still that of a command, as though surrendering the accounts had been nothing more than a tantrum. All he had to do was offer an olive branch, and I should be grateful to take it.

"I won't."

Matteo frowned. "How long are you going to keep this up? I gave her the Black Rose Ring. What more do you want? Everyone is watching the Moretti Family. If Lydia is treated like an illegitimate daughter anyone can push around, it's my face that's lost. You have a marriage certificate and your own ports. Your standing doesn't need a ring to prove it. Why fight over something so superficial?"

I listened to these noble-sounding justifications and felt my stomach churn. My standing didn't need proof, so I should let him drain my money to sustain an entire Family, hand my life-saving medicine to someone else, and let him grind my dignity into the dirt.

I looked up at him. "You're right. I won't fight."

He seemed pleased and reached to touch my face. "That's more like it. Once things calm down, I'll take you to the lake house for a few days."

I tilted my head away. His hand froze in the air. His expression darkened at once.

"If there's nothing else, please leave. I'm tired."

Matteo stared at me coldly for a long time before saying, "You don't know what's good for you," and slamming the door behind him.

I sat in the dim light, slowly pulling off the mask. In the mirror, the faint scar on my left cheek was already darkening. The toxin was spreading.

Chapter 4

The news that Matteo intended to hold a Protection Ceremony for Lydia was delivered by the steward in person.

He kept his head lowered, unable to meet my eyes. "Ma'am, the master has chosen the eighth of next month. The ceremony will be held in the Family chapel. Afterward, Miss Lydia will move into the main residence and sit at the master's right hand at official dinners, receiving the same protection as the lady of the house. The master would like you to attend and accept a toast from her."

I was in the greenhouse, trimming a dead white rose. My hand didn't pause when I heard him.

A soft snap, and the dead stem fell.

"Understood."

The steward blinked, clearly not expecting such calm, and hurried out.

Mara was shaking with fury. "Ma'am, you are his lawful wife! What Family tradition lets a wife's sister enter the household as another lady of the house? He's trying to drive you to your grave."

I set the shears down and brushed the dirt from my gloves. "He isn't trying to drive me to my grave. He simply believes I'll never leave."

Matteo was too confident. He knew I had loved him for seven years and believed that since I had poured everything into putting him in that seat, I would never let go. So he dared to test my boundaries again and again until he had crushed them entirely.

On the eighth, the Moretti estate's long corridor was draped with deep crimson ribbons. A row of black sedans lined up outside the Family chapel. Only territory bosses, senior advisors, and a handful of witnesses to past Family oaths had been invited.

I wore a plain black dress with no adornment and sat on the left side of the banquet hall's long table.

Matteo walked in with Lydia on his arm. A dark red rose was pinned to his chest. Lydia wore an ivory gown, and the Black Rose Ring on her right hand gleamed under the chandeliers.

When Matteo saw my black dress, a flash of displeasure crossed his eyes, probably thinking I was dampening the mood. But he didn't lash out. He only said gently, "Elena, from today, Lydia is one of us. Look after her."

Lydia carried a glass of red wine to where I sat and dipped her head. "Elena, please welcome me into the Family."

Her voice was delicate, but her eyes held undisguised defiance.

I didn't take the wine.

The banquet hall went silent at once. Every pair of eyes fell on me.

Matteo's face hardened. "Elena, take it. Don't make the Family a laughingstock."

I looked up at him. For the first time in three years, I addressed him by his full name in front of everyone. "Matteo Moretti, do you really think I can swallow this glass of wine?"

He froze for a moment, then his brow furrowed. "What are you making a scene about now? I promised you that, legally, you will always be my wife. Lydia only needs the Family's recognition. What more do you want?"

What more did I want?

A searing pain that had been bottled up too long exploded from my chest. The metallic sweetness could no longer be contained. I picked up the glass in front of me but did not touch the one Lydia had offered.

"I don't want any of it anymore."

The instant I said it, a mouthful of black blood surged from my lips and splattered across the hem of Lydia's ivory gown. The wine glass slipped from my hand and shattered.

Matteo's pupils constricted. He shoved Lydia aside and lunged to catch me. "Elena!"

But I had already collapsed into the chair. As my vision plunged into darkness, I saw, on that face that was always composed, a crack of genuine panic.