After Prison I’m Done Playing Second

My husband, Don Reginald, and my parents threw me in prison on the very night I gave him his heir. All because my sister, Felicia, set me up. She claimed I gave her a wild horse at the family races—a horse she knew she couldn't handle. It went crazy. It trampled a senator to death. With the FBI breathing down our necks, the whole family made me take the fall. Three years. Reginald didn't care that I'd just had our son. He pushed me. Over and over. "It was your horse. If you hadn't given it to her, the Feds wouldn't be after Felicia. Just do the time. When you get out, you'll still be my Donna." Three years later, I came back. Nothing had changed. They still chose her. Even the son I bled for now calls Felicia "Mama." He looks right through me, his own mother. I didn't fight. Not like the old me. I just walked away. But when I finally vanished for good, Reginald lost his mind. He tore the world apart, begging me to come back. To be his Donna again. Chapter 1 In the dead of night, Reginald’s hand snaked around my waist. His thumb brushed the swell of my breast. "Don't." I shoved him off, scrambling up like I was trying to escape. He wouldn't be denied. He loomed behind me, his voice a low growl of possession. "We're married, Rosabella. And besides…" His breath was hot on my ear, his voice turning slick. "Leo is three now. It's time you gave me another child." Bile rose in my throat. I stumbled to the bathroom, collapsing over the toilet. Reginald followed me in. The air in the small room went still. His face was a mask of confusion and frustration. "What's wrong with you? You've been back a month, and you won't even let me touch you... Are you..." I gripped the sink, staring at my pale face in the mirror. I cut him off. "It's nothing. I'm just not feeling well. I used to be so stubborn. Don't worry. I won't be like that anymore." Right. I was the problem. Always jealous of my perfect sister. Jealous of how she had our parents wrapped around her finger. Jealous that she had her own husband but still needed mine. But I didn't care anymore. Not even when the child I bore three years ago called Felicia "Mama" right in front of me. Reginald just stared, like he wanted to say more. But my mind was already gone. Back to three years ago. The private hospital delivery room. I had just given birth to Leo. I was weak, lying in bed, the tiny baby bundled in my arms. "He's beautiful. My son and Reginald's. He'll be the perfect heir." I stroked his soft cheek, my heart overflowing. The door flew open with a kick. My father, Don Magnus, stormed in, flanked by four of his men. "Rosabella!" His roar shook the windows. "Do you have any idea what you've done?" "Papa?" I clutched my baby tighter, confused. "I just gave birth—" "The race! That goddamn horse!" He pointed a shaking finger at me. "We spoiled you rotten. Now you pay the price!" I froze. "What? I don't understand—" "The horse you gave Felicia was drugged! It went wild and trampled a senator!" Magnus’s face was beet red. "Now the FBI is coming for us!" "It wasn't my fault!" I tried to explain. "Felicia was the one who insisted on riding my horse. I warned her she couldn't handle him..." Before I could finish, the world spun. The world went black. My next conscious thought was the metallic chill of an interrogation room. Reginald sat across from me. Not a hair out of place. Not a flicker of warmth in his eyes. "Reginald!" I tried to stand. "You're here to save me! Tell them, it wasn't my fault! It was Felicia—" "Rosabella." He cut me off. His voice was like a winter wind. "You're going to confess." "What?" "You owe this to Felicia." "Why?" I stared at him, my world crumbling. "Reginald, I'm your wife! I just gave you a son!" "The shock of the fall... Felicia had a miscarriage." His eyes were cold, dead pools of brown. "She lost the baby. She may never be able to have another." The floor fell out from under me. "So?" "So, Leo will be raised by her. As compensation." Reginald stood up, looking down at me. "You can't be selfish anymore, Rosabella. This is a family decision. Do this, and when you get out, you'll still be my Donna." "No!" I screamed. "He's my son! MY SON!" But no one listened. "Rosabella?" Reginald's voice pulled me back to the present. I blinked, putting my mask back on. "I'm sorry." I turned to face him, my face a calm blank. "I'm just... still adjusting. It's all in the past now." His expression was complicated, a flicker of unease in his eyes. "Are you still mad I gave Leo to Felicia?" he tested. "The Moretti family broke off her engagement after the miscarriage. She's in a lot of pain, and she might not be able to have children..." "I really don't mind." My answer just confused him more. The old Rosabella would have screamed. Thrown things. Cried for days. This new me was as still as a dead lake. "We'll have other children," Reginald said, but it sounded forced, like he was trying to convince himself. "When you've recovered—" His phone rang, cutting him off. The screen flashed: Felicia. He glanced at it, then hesitated. "Answer it," I said calmly. His eyes widened. He clearly didn't expect that. He picked up. Felicia's crying voice came through the speaker. "Reginald, I'm at the Gold Dust Casino... I drank too much, can you come get me?" "I'm on my way." Reginald hung up and looked at me. "Go on," I said, turning back to my vanity and starting to take off my makeup. "Drive safe." Reginald just stood there. He went pale. "You're really not angry?" "Why would I be?" I met his eyes in the mirror. "Go. Don't keep her waiting." He stood there for a long time, his face a war of emotions. Finally, he left. An engine roared to life outside the manor, then faded into the distance. I walked numbly to the full-length mirror. Beneath my nightgown, a jagged scar cut across my lower stomach. A "gift" from a rival family's woman inside. And the reason I'll never carry another child. Reginald wants another kid? Felicia can't have one? I didn't care anymore. Twenty minutes later, I was back in bed, holding a burner phone. The screen lit up with a new email. From: The UN Refugee Agency I opened it. Dear Ms. Rossi: Congratulations on passing your final interview. You have been officially hired as one of our war photographers. Assignment: Syrian Border Refugee Camp Report Date: One Month Looking at the acceptance letter, a real smile touched my lips for the first time in three years. One more month, and I'd be free of this cage. It felt good. Chapter 2 I was just about to fall asleep when I heard an engine downstairs. More than one. Usually, when Reginald left for Felicia, he was gone all night. I frowned and went to the window. His armored Cadillac was in the driveway, and right behind it was a pink Maserati. Felicia’s car. My breath hitched. He brought her here? I heard the front door open, then footsteps and low voices. Silently, I went to my door and cracked it open. "Reginald, are you sure this is a good idea?" It was Felicia's voice, soft and weak like always. "Now that my sister is back, shouldn't Leo be with her?" "No." Reginald's voice was ice. "Rosabella was always spoiled. Three years in prison... it broke something in her. I won't let her near the heir." Every word was a knife in my chest. "But what if she..." Felicia trailed off. "What if she asks for a divorce?" Reginald let out a short, confident laugh that made me sick. "She won't, Felicia. She can't live without me." I closed my eyes, and the memories flooded in. Exile. Sent to Sicily at eight years old because my father's business was weak. "Your parents abandoned you!" The taunts of the other children. Five years later, I came home. But it wasn't my home anymore. Felicia had my room. My photos were gone, replaced by hers. Her sweet smile, her eyes full of poison. Then Michael, my first love at fifteen. The roses he gave me. The next day, Felicia's tears. "She pushed me down the stairs, Papa!" Locked in the freezing cellar all night. A fever of 104. Waking up to hear Felicia bragging to her friends. "Michael's my boyfriend now." After that, I gave up on trying to earn my parents' love. I rebelled. I rode motorcycles, went to underground casinos, drank all night. Anything to forget the pain. Until Reginald. The heir to the Falcone family. Handsome, cold, powerful. He looked at me differently. "You like photography?" he asked, nodding at the camera in my hands. "Yeah," I said, guarded. Felicia had just "accidentally" broken my last one. This was a new one I'd bought with my own money. "Then do it," Reginald said. "A mafia princess can be a photographer, too." It was the first time anyone had ever supported my dream. Then Reginald again. The car bomb at my birthday party. The explosion. He ran into the fire, pulling me from the wreckage without a second thought. "I won't let anyone hurt you," he'd choked out, holding my bloody body, his own voice shaking. In that moment, I thought I had found the light of my life. But all of that was gone. Three years in prison taught me one thing: anger and tears are a luxury. Only a cool head keeps you alive. In that place, where you only got a meal if you knelt and let someone stomp your head into the dirt, nothing mattered anymore. No one is so important that you can't live without them. I could live just fine without Reginald. I walked silently back into my room and pulled open the bottom drawer of my wardrobe. Then, I picked up the divorce papers and walked, one step at a time, to face Reginald. Chapter 3 I walked down the stairs, papers in hand. In the living room, Reginald and Felicia were on the couch. Leo was curled up in Felicia's lap. They looked like a perfect family. And I was the intruder. "Rosabella?" Reginald froze when he saw me. "Why aren't you asleep?" Felicia immediately clutched Leo tighter, as if I were some kind of monster. "Sister... I'm sorry, I just needed Reginald to take me home, I didn't mean to wake you..." Her voice trembled, her eyes red-rimmed. Still such a good actress. "Are you angry with me?" Reginald stood, frowning at me. "Because I brought Felicia back?" "No." I held the papers out to him. "What's this?" Reginald took them, confused, not opening them. "Just some documents. They need your signature." Reginald glanced at the cover, assuming it was a deed for the estate or some asset agreement. His expression instantly softened. He stepped closer, his voice dripping with condescending pity. "The villa on Lake Como. You always liked it there." He stroked my cheek, like I was a pet. "And the Swiss account. Is ten million enough to start?" He thought I just wanted some financial security. "And that Greek island, the one you said you wanted to photograph at sunset," Reginald went on, his tone growing softer. "It can all be yours." In his eyes, I was just a wife feeling insecure because of Felicia's presence. A problem to be solved with money. "Just sign," I said. Reginald didn't even read the document. He just picked up a pen. "Of course. It was all yours to begin with." He was about to sign his name— "Don't!" A small body suddenly launched itself at me. Leo, with all the force his three-year-old body could muster, slammed into me, knocking me to the ground. "Bad woman!" he shrieked, standing over me, his little face contorted with rage. "Family traitor! You can't have our money!" I fell backward, my knee hitting the sharp corner of the coffee table. Blood seeped out. But the physical pain was nothing compared to the feeling of my heart being ripped in two. This was my son. The child I carried for nine months and fought to bring into this world. And he was calling me a traitor. It was just like at his school. The memory flashed, sharp and painful. I’d gone to see him, just days after getting out. I found him bullying a smaller kid. "My dad is the Don! You mess with me?" "You're an orphan!" Leo had laughed, a cruel, vicious sound. "Orphans are meant to be stepped on!" When I pulled him away, he pointed at me and screamed, "Liar! You're the bitch trying to ruin our family!" The other teachers and parents all stared at me, their eyes filled with judgment. In that moment, I understood. Felicia had completely poisoned my son. Blood dripped from my knee, staining the carpet. Even though I knew my son wasn't the boy I dreamed he'd be, my heart still ached. "Rosabella!" Reginald rushed over to help me up. "Is this your idea of a good upbringing?" I looked at Reginald, my voice ice cold. "Is this what Felicia taught him?" Reginald's face darkened. As if to appease me, he quickly signed the papers, then looked down at Leo. "Leo, apologize to her! Now!" "No!" Leo hid behind Felicia. "She's the bad woman! Mama, don't let her take our home!" Mama. He called Felicia Mama. "I'm so sorry, sister..." Felicia held Leo, tears in her eyes. "It's my fault, I didn't raise him right..." "Don't say sorry to her!" Leo yelled. "Mama, you can't bow to bad people!" That one stung. It was just like when we were kids. Father always accusing me of bullying Felicia, forbidding her from apologizing to her "vicious sister." "Leo!" Reginald's voice grew sterner. "She is my wife! The Donna of this family! You will show her respect!" Leo froze, clearly scared by Reginald's anger. But I was done with this whole charade. I stood up, dragging my injured leg, and started for the stairs. Behind me, I heard Reginald's voice. "Leo, you listen to me! Rosabella is the Donna of this family. Everything we have is hers! You will respect her!" I stopped and glanced back. Leo was looking at the floor, muttering, "I know," but his face was full of hate. Chapter 4 Reginald didn't come home. But I slept soundly. For the first time in three years. As morning light filled the room, I started packing. Jewelry, gowns, skincare—all the expensive things that once defined Rosabella Rossi. I picked up a diamond necklace. Reginald's gift for my twenty-first birthday. I used to treasure it. Now it just felt heavy. The room was exactly as I'd left it three years ago. Reginald hadn't even moved my things. Was it sentimentality? Or guilt? "Ma'am, the Boss wants you downstairs," Marco, the butler, said through the door. "Mr. Rossi is here." My father was here? I changed into a simple black dress and walked downstairs. In the living room, Magnus sat in the main armchair, his face a thundercloud. My mother, Maria, stood behind him. Her eyes flickered with something complicated when she saw me. Reginald sat across from them, looking exhausted. And Leo was curled in a corner of the sofa, his eyes red and swollen. It was the first time I'd seen my parents in three years. A lump formed in my throat. The little girl who just wanted her parents' love seemed to resurface. "Papa, Mama..." I started, my voice strained. "Rosabella." Magnus's voice was ice. "What did you do last night?" "What do you mean?" "Leo told us," Magnus’s voice was dangerously low. "He said you locked him in the ice cellar for three hours. For revenge." The accusation hung in the air, so absurd I couldn't even breathe. "I did not." "Leo doesn't lie," Reginald said, his voice heavy with exhaustion. He wouldn't even look at me. "He cried all night. Said he was cold and terrified." I looked at Leo. The three-year-old boy was staring at me with pure terror in his eyes. Such good acting. He really was Felicia's student. "I was in my room all night," I said calmly. "Reginald was not." "Reginald didn't come to your room last night," my mother said suddenly, her voice soft. "He was in his study all night." The air froze. Reginald looked away. "A child doesn't lie for no reason," Magnus said, standing up. "Rosabella, I know you're angry, but Leo is, after all..." He stopped. "After all, what?" I laughed, a bitter, mocking sound. "Say it, Father. After all, what?" Reginald shifted uncomfortably. "The family heir?" I pushed. "You can't even say the words 'Leo is my son' anymore, can you?" "Enough!" Magnus roared. "Will you ever learn?" He gave a hand signal. Two of his men stepped forward. "Administer the family punishment." "What?" Reginald shot to his feet. "Don Magnus, this is not—" "She needs to learn a lesson," Magnus said coldly. "Take her to the discipline room." "No." Reginald stood in front of me. "Rosabella, just apologize. And this will be over." Apologize? For something I didn't do? I looked at Reginald, the man who once promised to protect me for the rest of his life. "I didn't do it." I pushed past him. "If you've got the guts, just kill me." Reginald stared at me, shocked. "Rosabella—" But the two men had already grabbed me, dragging me toward the basement. In the discipline room, I was forced onto the bench. Cold leather straps were fastened around my wrists. "Twenty lashes," Magnus's voice came from the doorway. "Teach her a lesson." The whip cracked through the stale air. A line of fire seared across my back. I bit down on my lip, hard enough to taste blood. I would not give them the satisfaction of a scream. The second lash. The third. Blood soaked through my dress. But I would not beg. Three years in prison taught me that tears and pleading only bring more humiliation. By the tenth lash, my vision started to blur. By the fifteenth, I was drifting. No, I will not give in... Just then, a small, tearful voice cried out. "Stop hitting her!" Leo ran in, his eyes full of tears. "Papa! Don't hit her anymore!" Reginald immediately rushed over. "Stop!" The man with the whip froze. "Leo, how did you—" "It... It was Mama who told me to say it!" Leo sobbed, out of breath. "She told me to go into the ice cellar by myself!" Dead silence. I used my last ounce of strength to lift my head. Reginald's face was sheet-white. Magnus was frozen in place. "I wasn't locked in!" Leo kept crying. "I lied! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" The world started to spin. The last thing I saw before I passed out was Reginald rushing toward me, his arms trembling as he caught me. Chapter 5 I woke up in my bedroom. The wounds on my back throbbed. Reginald was sitting by the bed, his eyes bloodshot. "You're awake." He reached for my forehead. "How do you feel?" I flinched away from his touch. "Is that proof enough?" My voice was a rasp. "My innocence?" Reginald froze, then gave a bitter laugh. "Rosabella, just stop," he sighed, the sound utterly exhausted. "Leo is three years old. He saw you getting whipped and panicked. He said it to save you. You should be thanking him." Thank him? Thank him for framing me, then changing his story when he got scared? I stared at Reginald, and the last flicker of warmth in my heart went out. "You still don't believe me." "It's not about believing you or not—" "It is!" I pushed myself up, sucking in a breath as the wounds on my back tore. "No matter what the truth is, you will never, ever believe me!" Reginald's face hardened. "Fine. Let's say you're telling the truth." He stood up, pacing the room. "But you almost got Felicia killed when she was pregnant, and now you've terrified Leo—" "I didn't terrify him!" "Enough!" Reginald spun around. "What's past is past!" He took a deep breath, sat back down on the bed, and tried to pull me into his arms. "Rosabella, you will always be my cherished princess." His voice turned soft again, that magnetic tone he thought was so charming. "As long as you stop going after Felicia, we can start over. Just like before." Start over? In his mind, everything was my fault. I was the vicious woman "going after" Felicia. I was the sinner who needed to be "forgiven." "Felicia lost her parents when she was young. Our family took her in," Reginald continued. "She needs protection more than you do. You need to learn to be more generous." I was framed, thrown in prison for three years, had my son taken from me, and now I had to be generous? "Rosabella?" Reginald waited. When I didn't answer, he asked, "Are you listening to me?" I looked at him. I had nothing left to say. This man would never get it. In his heart, Felicia would always be the poor, helpless girl who needed saving. And I would always be the villain. The vicious sister who had to step aside. Reginald waited a bit longer, his face growing dark. "I get it." He stood up, his tone turning cold and hard. "You're still angry with me." He walked to the door, then turned back. "I'm going to Felicia's gallery. She was terrified by what happened last night. She needs someone." Was that a threat? Or a test? "Go," I said calmly. Reginald's pupils shrank. He clearly hadn't expected that. The old me would have cried, screamed, done anything to stop him from seeing Felicia. The new me was perfectly still. "You really don't care?" His voice was laced with disbelief. "Why should I?" Reginald just stood there, his face getting darker and darker. "Fine. Good." He let out a cold laugh. The door slammed shut behind him. I leaned back against the pillows and closed my eyes. A few hours later, I woke up to a series of texts. Four of them. All from Felicia. [You bitch, can't you see Reginald really loves me?] [Why are you still fighting me for him? Didn't you suffer enough in prison?] [He promised he was coming to my gallery. What did you do to stop him?] [I'm going to show you who Reginald really cares about.] I deleted the messages. It was all so pathetic. What was she even trying to do? The wounds on my back were still bleeding slightly. The painkillers made me drowsy. My eyelids grew heavy. I fell into a deep sleep. I don't know how long I was out before a piercing alarm went off. I shot up in bed. The air was thick with smoke. Acrid, choking smoke. I jumped out of bed and saw the orange glow of fire painting the sky outside my window. The manor was on fire. No, just my wing. The east wing. "Damn it!" I raced to the door, grabbing the handle. The metal was already hot. I twisted. It wouldn't budge. I peered through the crack. A flaming beam had collapsed, barricading the door. Trapping me. "Reginald!" I pounded on the door. "Reginald! Help!" I could hear chaos downstairs. Footsteps, shouting. "Boss! Miss Felicia is trapped in the living room!" "Quick! Get the fire extinguishers!" "The west wing fire is under control!" "What about the east wing?" "The east wing is too dangerous! The whole thing's about to collapse!" I kept pounding. "Reginald! I'm in here! I'm trapped!" My voice was weak, lost in the smoke. Then, I heard my father’s voice, raw with panic. "Reginald, please! Get Felicia! Save her first!" "Reginald..." My call was a choked whisper, eaten by the smoke. Silence. Then, footsteps. Hurrying away from me. Toward her. The smoke grew thicker. I started coughing violently. Flames were licking the edges of the room. The carpet caught fire. I finally understood. Felicia was behind this. She wanted to show me who Reginald would save when it was a matter of life and death. The room was getting hotter. My lungs felt like they were on fire. As the flames reached the bed, I grabbed the crystal vase from the nightstand and threw it at the floor-to-ceiling window. The sound of shattering glass was tiny against the roar of the fire. Cold air rushed in, giving me a moment's relief from the smoke. I carefully crawled toward the edge of the balcony. Chapter 6 Reginald’s POV I carried Felicia out of the living room. She clung to my neck, her body trembling. "It's okay." I set her down on the safety of the lawn. "Are you hurt?" "No." Felicia shook her head, tears in her eyes. "Reginald, thank you." I looked at the east wing, still burning, and my heart seized. "Rosabella." I turned to run back in. "Reginald!" Don Magnus grabbed my arm. "Are you crazy? The east wing is about to collapse!" "Let go of me!" I shook him off. "Rosabella is still in there!" "If you die, what about Leo? What about Felicia?" Magnus held on tight. "What about the family?" "What about Rosabella?" I yelled at the old man, the first time I'd ever raised my voice to him. "Isn't she your daughter?!" Magnus froze. Just then— SPLASH! A huge splash came from the other side of the manor. We all turned. Someone had jumped into the fountain. My blood ran cold. "Rosabella!" I ran, not caring about anything else. — Rosabella’s POV The cold water swallowed me. The impact knocked me out instantly. The last thing I heard was Reginald’s guttural scream. "Rosabella!" But he was too late. I woke to the sterile smell of antiseptic and the steady beep of a machine. Reginald was slumped in a chair by the bed. His suit was creased, his hair a wreck. His eyes were bloodshot, rimmed with exhaustion. He looked… broken. He shot up when my eyes fluttered open. "You're awake," he breathed, his voice raw. "Rosabella. How do you feel?" "Where's Felicia?" I asked. "She's fine." Reginald took my hand. "Why didn't you wait for me to save you?" I just looked at him. The question was a joke. "Were you?" I pressed, my voice flat. "If you could only save one of us. Me, or Felicia. Who would you have chosen?" The silence that followed was louder than the fire. He couldn't even look at me. He didn't have to. We both knew the answer. "Rosabella... I..." "Forget it." I closed my eyes. "I'm tired." Reginald didn't leave. For the next few days, he never left my side. He fed me my medicine, changed my bandages, and even helped me with my physical therapy. It was just like when we were first married. Back then, it was just the two of us. No Felicia, no family drama, no betrayals and lies. Just Reginald and me. "Does it still hurt?" he asked, stroking my forehead. "No." "Liar." His eyes were full of apology. "It's all my fault." Is it? You're finally admitting it? But I said nothing. A week later, the doctor said I could go home. Reginald came to pick me up himself. "Let's go home," he said, starting the car. Home. Was that place still my home? Halfway there, Reginald's phone rang. "What? Felicia's at the docks?" He frowned. "What's she doing in a place like that alone?" The dockyards were one of the most dangerous parts of Chicago. Rival gangs, turf wars, frequent shootouts. "She's in trouble?" His voice got tense. "Okay, I'm on my way." He hung up and pulled the car over. "Rosabella, I have to go to the docks." "Now?" "Felicia's in trouble." Reginald unbuckled his seatbelt. "You go on home. I'll have a driver come get you." He was going to leave me here? I looked around. He’d left me on the South Side. At dusk. The streets were deserted, windows barred like vacant eyes. This wasn't just a bad neighborhood; this was enemy territory. "Reginald, this area is—" "I'm sorry, it's an emergency." He was already out of the car. "The driver will be here any minute." Thump. The car door closed. The engine roared and faded away. Leaving me alone on an empty street. The wind was cold. It made my wounds ache. I waited for thirty minutes. No driver came. I took out my phone. No signal. I laughed at myself. I was just glad I was leaving soon. I wouldn't have to put up with this anymore. It took me almost two hours to walk back. Thankfully, I didn't run into any trouble. It was ten o'clock by the time I got back to the manor. The living room was quiet. Looked like no one was home. I started for the stairs but heard voices coming from the study. Reginald's voice. "Felicia, why did you lie? There were no rival families at the docks. Why did you make me go there?" Felicia burst into tears and threw herself into his arms. "Reginald, you've changed." Her voice was full of hurt. "Ever since Rosabella came back, you don't care about me anymore." "Felicia, she's my wife. I have to love and protect her..." "But you used to love me!" Felicia cried harder. "You only went after her because of our bet, to protect me! Have you forgotten?!" A bomb went off in my head. My mind went completely blank. I froze, unable to believe what I just heard. Chapter 7 Rosabella's POV A bet? What bet? My hand gripped the doorframe, my knuckles white. In the study, Reginald was silent for a long time. "That's all in the past," he finally said, his voice quiet. "The past?" Felicia's voice cracked. "Reginald, how can you say that?" Suddenly, she launched herself at him. I watched her stand on her toes and press her lips to his. My heart stopped beating. Reginald took a step back. "Felicia, don't." "Why not?" She clung to him. "Back then, I said I liked the Moretti heir. You got jealous. You made a bet with me—" "Enough." "You bet me," she purred, her voice laced with venomous triumph. "You said if you could make the untouchable Rosabella Rossi fall in love with you, I would be yours for a night. And you won! You made her fall." "We got together after that. The bet was off," Reginald said calmly. "Felicia, you don't have to—" "It was off?" she cut him off. "What about now?" She kissed him again. This time, Reginald didn't pull away. For a terrible, stretched-out second, he was still. Then, I watched in horror as he closed his eyes and his mouth met hers. He didn't just accept the kiss. He returned it. It felt like an eternity. Long enough for the last ember of hope in my chest to turn to ash. I turned and walked away. The two in the study never even noticed. They were lost in each other's arms. Just like three years ago. I drove. The engine of my Maserati was a scream in the night, matching the one trapped in my own throat. I was heading back to the Rossi estate. Not for a fight. Just to retrieve the last pieces of a girl who no longer existed. An hour later, I was standing at the gates of my childhood home. The guards recognized me. "Miss Rosabella? It's so late, are you—" "I'm here to get something." They didn't stop me. I was still a Rossi, after all. At least in name. I went straight to the second floor. I pushed open the door to my old room. And I froze. It wasn't my room anymore. The walls were covered in oil paintings, all of them Felicia's. A painter's easel and palette stood in the corner. My bed was gone, replaced by a marble sculpting stand. It was Felicia's art studio now. All my childhood memories. Erased. I searched the room and finally found my things in a cardboard box. The hand-knit scarf from my grandmother, my old camera, some photos. All of it just tossed in a corner, covered in dust. I carefully picked up my grandmother's scarf. She made it for me right before she died, with beautiful, embroidered flowers. Now it was crumpled and creased. "Still holding on to old things, I see." I turned. My father was standing in the doorway. "Why are you still keeping all this junk?" Junk? These were the only good memories I had left. "I came to get my things," I said calmly. "Your things?" Magnus scoffed. "Rosabella, this isn't your room anymore. Felicia needed a studio, so I gave it to her." "I know." I continued packing my grandmother's things. Once I was done, I carried the box downstairs. Magnus was in the living room, talking with a few of his men. They stopped when they saw me. "Rosabella." Magnus looked at the box in my arms. "You're taking that with you?" "Yes." "Good." Magnus gave a curt nod. "It's for the best. For the family. Let Reginald go. Give him to Felicia. She has the temperament to be a proper Donna." Give him to Felicia? I looked at this man. The man who was supposed to love and protect me. "If I am your daughter, why do you always make me give way to Felicia?" My voice was quiet. "My whole life, in every fight, you always took her side." "Rosabella—" Magnus opened his mouth, but no words came out. The room was silent. His men all looked at the floor, not daring to speak. "Answer me," my voice was dangerously quiet. "Am I even your blood?" The question struck him like a physical blow. His face went dark, a mask of pure fury. "I wish to God I'd never had you!" he finally bellowed. The words hit me like a slap across the face. My fingers stroked the soft wool of my grandmother's scarf. It reminded me of her warm hugs when I was a child. The only warmth I'd ever known. And now that was gone, too. "Fine," I said softly, my voice so calm it surprised even me. "I'll leave. You can pretend you never had a daughter." Chapter 8 Rosabella's POV I mailed my "treasures" away. When I got back to the manor, I heard Leo's voice. I looked out and saw him playing near the stables. No, he was on top of the stables. That roof was at least ten feet high. "Leo!" I yelled. "Get down from there!" He heard me and turned to wave. In that instant, a roof tile under his foot came loose. "Ah!" Leo fell. I didn't think. I flew out of my room and down the stairs. I sprinted out of the manor and toward the stables. Leo was falling through the air. I opened my arms and caught him. THUD! The impact slammed me onto the ground. A tearing pain shot through my lower back. My old injury from prison. "Ow..." I grit my teeth, but held the child in my arms tight. "Leo, are you okay?" "I... I'm okay." Leo climbed out of my arms and looked down at me. "But you... you're bleeding." I looked down. My knees and elbows were scraped raw. But I didn't care. Leo was safe. "Why did you save me?" Leo knelt beside me carefully, his voice small. "Aren't you the bad woman?" Bad woman. A three-year-old, taught to think like that. "Leo." I pushed myself up. "Let me ask you something. Do you think a mother would ever hurt her own child?" "No." Leo shook his head. "Then would I ever hurt you?" Leo looked at me, his eyes full of confusion. "Are... are you really my mama?" his voice cracked. "Yes." I reached out to touch his face. "I'm your mama." Leo didn't pull away. Tears suddenly welled up in his eyes. "I'm sorry!" He threw himself into my arms. "I'm sorry, Mama! I lied!" "It's okay, baby." I held him, a storm of emotions inside me. This was the first time I had ever truly held my son. In three years. The baby I held in the hospital now hurt me over and over, but I still craved this hug. But his next words made me freeze. "Mama," Leo whispered into my shoulder. "Can you... can you leave Daddy?" "What?" "Felicia-Mama said she really likes Daddy." Leo looked up, tears still on his cheeks. "And if Daddy doesn't marry her, she'll be very sad." "What else?" "She said... she said it's my fault Daddy isn't happy." Leo's voice was a choked whisper. "And that if you leave, Mama... then Daddy will finally be happy with her." My whole body went rigid. Felicia had said that to a three-year-old child. Made him carry the weight of adult mistakes. Made him think he was worthless. "Leo." I stroked his face. "You are not worthless. You are my most precious treasure." "Really?" "Really." I kissed his forehead. "And Mama promises you." That afternoon, I drove Leo to Reginald's office. The Falcone Group tower was a forty-story skyscraper in the heart of Chicago. We took the elevator to the top floor. The door to Reginald's office was open. He was on a call. He hung up the second he saw us. "Rosabella? What are you doing here?" He frowned when he saw the bandages on my arm. "You're hurt?" "It's nothing." I pushed Leo toward him. "Leo wanted to see you." "Daddy!" Leo ran into Reginald's arms. "My little prince." Reginald picked him up. "Did you have a good day?" "Yeah! Mama played with me!" Reginald looked at me, his eyes full of something complicated. "Rosabella—" "Reginald!" The door burst open and Felicia ran in. She was in a white dress, her hair a mess, her eyes red and swollen. "Felicia?" Reginald frowned. "What are you—" "It's a disaster!" Felicia ran to Reginald, crying. "They got pictures of us!" "What?" Felicia held out her phone, a news site open on the screen. The headline screamed from the screen in huge, bold letters: FALCONE DON'S DIRTY LITTLE SECRET? CAUGHT IN MONACO WITH MYSTERY MISTRESS! The picture was of Reginald and Felicia on a beach. They were in swimsuits, Felicia leaning against Reginald's chest. They looked like a couple in love. "The media is calling me the 'family mistress'!" Felicia cried harder. "They're saying I ruined your marriage!" Reginald's face went dark. "These damn reporters—" "Reginald, you have to save me!" Felicia grabbed his arm. "My reputation is ruined!" She turned to me, a flash of triumph in her eyes, quickly hidden by tears. "Sister, please!" Felicia sank to her knees before me, a perfect picture of desperation. "You have to help me! Tell them it's not what it looks like! Tell them your marriage was already over!" She grabbed my hand, her voice trembling. "You don't want Leo to have the stigma of being an illegitimate son, do you? It would ruin his position in the family!" Chapter 9 Rosabella's POV "Impossible." Reginald rejected Felicia's idea without a second thought. "I will not let the world think Rosabella did anything wrong." Felicia froze, a flicker of rage in her eyes. But I had already pulled out my phone and dialed our family lawyer. "Marcus, I need you to release a statement immediately." My voice was calm. "Announce that the marriage between Reginald Falcone and myself is null and void, effective today." "What?" Reginald spun to face me. "Rosabella, what are you doing?" "Solving the problem," I continued to the lawyer. "Send it to all media outlets within the hour." "Rosabella!" Reginald tried to grab my phone. But I had already hung up. "It's the best solution," I said, looking at him. "Isn't it?" Reginald's face turned to stone. "I didn't agree to—" Felicia was secretly gloating, but on the surface, she was still dabbing at her tears. "Thank you, sister! You're so good to me!" "Let's go." I picked up Leo. "It's time to go home." Reginald followed us, his face grim. The elevator ride down was thick with tension. "Mama," Leo whispered in my arms. "Are you going to leave?" "Yes." "Can... can I come find you?" I didn't answer. Because I didn't know the answer. The elevator doors opened, and we walked out of the Falcone Group tower. The Chicago evening was beautiful. The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and red. Just then, a motorcycle sped toward us from down the street. The engine screamed. It was moving fast. My gut told me something was wrong. "Watch out!" I clutched Leo, trying to get out of the way. But it was too late. The rider raised a silenced pistol. Three silenced pops. Thwip. Thwip. Thwip. In a single, fluid motion—an instinct I'd seen a hundred times—Reginald moved. He didn't shield me. He threw himself in front of Felicia and Leo. His body became their wall. And a bullet tore a line of fire across my shoulder. Reginald's arm was hit, too. Blood bloomed on his sleeve. My left shoulder also took a hit, blood soaking my dress. But Felicia was completely untouched. Reginald had protected her perfectly. The motorcycle vanished into traffic, leaving me gritting my teeth in pain, and Reginald, his face a mask of fury. "Rosabella!" Reginald turned to check my wounds. "Are you okay?" "I'm fine," I said through clenched teeth. "What about Leo?" "I'm here, Mama." Leo was hiding in Felicia's arms, his face pale with fright. "Quick, to the clinic," Reginald said, dialing the family's private doctor. ... An hour later, at the family's private clinic. The doctor was treating our wounds. "The bullets just grazed you. No bones were hit," the doctor said. "But you'll need to rest and recover." Reginald sat by my bed. "I'm sorry." He took my hand. "I didn't protect you." "You protected who you needed to," I said, my voice devoid of all emotion. "That's what matters." Reginald's face darkened. "Rosabella, I... a few of the New York families have been targeting us. For your safety..." He cut himself off, his tone becoming formal. "I'm sending you to the safe house in Switzerland for a while." "You always wanted to go there, right?" he continued. "Lakes, mountains. It's a good place to recover." I looked at him. This man could always find a noble reason for his selfish decisions. "Okay," I agreed easily. Reginald visibly relaxed. "You're so understanding, Rosabella." He kissed my forehead. "When you get back, our family of three can finally live a good life." A family of three? Didn't he mean him and Felicia? That night, after Reginald left, I got a text. It was from Felicia. [Enjoy Switzerland. I hear it's a beautiful place to die. A fitting end for a fallen princess.] [Your parents. Your son. Your man. They're all mine now. Everything you ever had belongs to me.] So that was it. Getting me out of the way for Felicia. I laughed coldly, deleted the message, and checked the time. Eleven P.M. The exact day I was supposed to leave. I got up and quietly slipped out of the clinic. The manor was dark and silent. Everyone was asleep. I went to my room, grabbed the bag I had already packed, and my burner phone. It was time to go. I took one last look at the room. This place was once my safe harbor. Now it was just a gilded cage. I crept downstairs, called a car, and headed for the airport. In the rearview mirror, the lights of the manor grew smaller. Until they disappeared completely. At three in the morning, I boarded a one-way flight to Syria. Below me, the lights of Chicago glittered like a web of broken glass, then vanished into the clouds. I was flying into a warzone. But for the first time in my life, I was finally, truly free.