After His Betrayal, I Became His Mother-in-Law

Juliana's POV

My heart sank into a pit of despair. "What?!"

This was our home, an elegant townhouse on the Upper East Side. My father ran the trading company that had been in the Rossi family for generations. We had never wanted for anything.

My mother collapsed onto the sofa, her makeup a mess of tear-streaked mascara. "The Feds... there must have been twenty agents. They just stormed in."

Her voice broke. "They said it was fraud and money laundering. The company accounts are frozen, all our assets seized. Jules, we're ruined."

"That's impossible," I said, my throat tightening. "Dad has always run a clean business."

"It was a set-up. Someone framed him." My mother gripped my hand. "You know what happens when you piss off the wrong people. They can do whatever they want."

"The bail is an astronomical sum. If it's a RICO charge, he could rot in jail before he even sees a trial."

My phone vibrated in my pocket. I frowned when I saw Marco's name.

Clenching my jaw, I stepped out onto the front porch.

The night air was cold. A black Maserati, one I knew all too well, was parked under a streetlight.

Seven years I'd spent in that passenger seat. We'd even made love in that car.

Marco leaned against the door, a freshly lit cigarette dangling from his fingertips. The red ember glowed in the dark.

He wore the smug smile of a man who thought he controlled everything.

"You look like hell, Juliana," he said, exhaling a plume of smoke.

"Did you come here to gloat?" I asked coldly, hugging my arms.

"I'm here to help you, baby," he said, closing the distance between us. "I heard about your father. Money laundering is a serious charge."

I lifted my chin and met his eyes. "You know he's innocent."

"In our world, the truth doesn't matter. Money and power do," he shrugged. "I can make it go away. I'll pay the bail, no matter how high. I'll even get the best lawyers to make this disappear."

I took a wary step back. "And what do you want in return?"

Marco never made a deal unless it benefited him. I knew that better than anyone.

A triumphant smirk spread across his face. "It's simple. I want you."

"I marry Isabella, you close your little gallery, and you become my girl on the side. Simple."

I stared at him, stunned. "You want me to be your mistress?"

"But Isabella is going to be your wife!"

"That's an alliance. Business," he said, his voice dropping low. "Don't be so high and mighty, Jules. We're good together. You know how good I am in bed."

His eyes roamed over my body without restraint. "Just say the word, and you'll never have to worry about money again. Your father can be home for dinner tomorrow."

Rage burned through my veins.

"Get the hell out of here," I hissed through my teeth. "I'd rather starve on the streets than be your back-alley slut."

Marco's face turned to stone. He lunged forward, his nose nearly touching mine.

"Don't be a fool."

"Who else is going to help the Rossis?" he sneered. "That's five million in cash for bail. You'll come crawling back to me when you realize your father is about to get his ribs broken in Rikers."

Marco got in his car and sped away.

I stood shivering in the cold wind. I didn't let myself slide to the floor until his taillights were gone.

Five million dollars.

Yesterday, that might not have been a problem. But now, the Rossi family was finished.

The next day, at the Rossi Gallery.

This place, once my pride and joy, now felt hollow. Its shine was gone, tarnished by our family's scandal.

"You look terrible," Sofia said, pushing the door open with two coffees in hand.

"Things have been better," I admitted, my hand trembling as I took the coffee. "Last night was a nightmare."

Sofia was not only my best friend, but also the most well-connected person I knew. She worked at a high-end club owned by the Landini family and had seen her share of dirty dealings.

"I heard about your father. I'm already trying to help you pull some money together," she said, perching on the edge of my desk. "But right now, we need to talk about something else. This is a man's shirt. And this fabric... only a handful of men in New York could afford it."

"So spill. You vanished last night. Where did you go?"

I avoided her gaze, staring into the ripples in my coffee cup. "A waiter spilled wine on me. A man took me to his suite to clean up."

"Whose? Don't you dare tell me it was that bastard Marco."

"It wasn't him."

I couldn't hide it from her. Taking a deep breath, I said the name that still made my heart hammer in my chest.

"Dante Landini."

Sofia's coffee cup almost slipped from her grasp.

"Who?" she shrieked.