Claimed by the True Heir

To protect my boyfriend, Nico, the illegitimate son of our allies, the Moretti family, from their internal power struggles, I agreed to leave New York with him.

But on the eve of my adoptive father, the Don of the Falcone family, signing our transfer orders, he backed out.

Through the hidden door of the cigar lounge, I heard his right-hand man tease him:

"So you really kept up that act for three months just to get rid of the princess?"

"But she's your childhood sweetheart. You really have the heart to some miserable fishing village in the Baltics all by herself?"

Nico's voice was nonchalant. "It's just an outpost across the pond. How far can it be?"

"Scarlett is too controlling. If I don't get her out of the picture, how am I supposed to get any breathing room? Besides, I need to put Chloe at ease."

I stood behind that hidden door for a long time that night, my grip on the doorknob tightening until my knuckles were white, before I finally let go.

I turned and walked away, pulling out my tablet to change my flight plan.

I changed the destination from the official plan of that desolate Baltic outpost to a seat at the High Table in Sicily, which is the absolute center of old-world Mafia power.

Everyone seemed to have forgotten.

I am the princess of the Falcone family. And he is nothing but filth from the gutter.

We were never a match.

To protect my boyfriend, Nico, the illegitimate son of our allies, the Moretti family, from their internal power struggles, I agreed to leave New York with him.

But on the eve of my adoptive father, the Don of the Falcone family, signing our transfer orders, he backed out.

Through the hidden door of the cigar lounge, I heard his right-hand man tease him:

"So you really kept up that act for three months just to get rid of the princess?"

"But she's your childhood sweetheart. You really have the heart to some miserable fishing village in the Baltics all by herself?"

Nico's voice was nonchalant. "It's just an outpost across the pond. How far can it be?"

"Scarlett is too controlling. If I don't get her out of the picture, how am I supposed to get any breathing room? Besides, I need to put Chloe at ease."

I stood behind that hidden door for a long time that night, my grip on the doorknob tightening until my knuckles were white, before I finally let go.

I turned and walked away, pulling out my tablet to change my flight plan.

I changed the destination from the official plan of that desolate Baltic outpost to a seat at the High Table in Sicily, which is the absolute center of old-world Mafia power.

Everyone seemed to have forgotten.

I am the princess of the Falcone family. And he is nothing but filth from the gutter.

We were never a match.

...

The moment I heard the truth, the blood in my veins turned to ice.

For the past month, Nico had been beaten in underground casinos, "accidentally" wounded during cargo drops, and humiliated by low-level soldiers, held down in the mud.

It was all an elaborate, absurd charade.

And every time, I was the one who rushed to his defense.

I used my name and my status to shield him from all of it.

I even begged my adoptive father for this transfer order to that wasteland, all for him.

That day, after having whiskey thrown in his face, he had grabbed my sleeve, looking helpless. "Scarlett, let's go together. Once we're out there, I promise I'll give you a better life even if we have to start from nothing."

Nico and I were childhood sweethearts. He'd been living with the Falcones ever since the Moretti family's decline.

We hadn't been apart in over a decade, and besides, I'd fallen for him long ago. I never imagined marrying anyone else.

For so long, I had blamed myself, thinking he suffered all that humiliation because he was with me.

My heart ached for him then, a mix of pity and guilt.

I knew staying in New York was my best option, but I impulsively promised him, "Don't be afraid. I'd follow you to hell and back."

But only now did I understand it was all an elaborate act, staged just to get rid of me.

I couldn't help but wonder, did Nico really loathe me that much?

After all, I'd always believed he felt the same way about me as I did about him.

Inside the private room, the clink of ice in expensive whiskey glasses sounded sharp and grating.

"But Scarlett's really fallen for you. Aren't you worried that lying to her like this will be the end for you two?"

"Hey, don't say I didn't warn you. Scarlett's a real catch in our circles. The line of guys waiting for a shot with her is a mile long."

"Her?" Nico scoffed, as if he'd just heard the funniest joke in the world.

"She'd take a bullet for me. Hell, she'd get beaten black and blue for me and still wouldn't back down. You think she's ever going to leave me?"

Someone muttered, "But what if? Scarlett's not one to be messed with."

Nico's tone was lazy and contemptuous. "There is no 'what if.' Besides me, when have you ever seen her give anyone else the time of day?"

His voice was laced with a casual disdain.

"All she does is follow me around all day. Even a damn puppy isn't that clingy."

The room erupted in laughter.

Each laugh was like a sharp slap across the face of my pathetic pride.

I wanted to run.

But my feet felt nailed to the floor, forcing me to listen, to feel the pain.

Someone flattered Nico:

"I've never seen a guy work so hard to push away a woman who adores him. You're really something else, man. Why not just be straight with her?"

Nico took a sip of his drink, his voice drifting through the crack in the door. "Scarlett's too much. It's suffocating just being seen with her. But a clean break wouldn't be easy."

His tone shifted. "Besides, Chloe is so fragile. She only feels safe when I'm with her."

"True," someone agreed. "Scarlett's beautiful, but she's cold as ice. A delicate little flower like Chloe is a lot more appreciative."

"You've got the moves. Using the Falcone's resources to keep your new little beauty on the side."

The commentary inside the room continued, crude and unrestrained.

And the man I had loved for years didn't stop them, didn't argue. He even chimed in from time to time.

My chest clenched, an ache so sharp it went numb, leaving only a hollow void.

For a moment, I wanted to throw the door open and scream at Nico.

Ask him why he deceived me.

Ask him if he felt even a sliver of guilt or hesitation watching me get humiliated for his sake.

Ask him if he ever thought about the decade of history between us when he did all this.

But my adoptive mother's words echoed in my mind: Anger is cheap fuel, Scarlett. Don't make any unnecessary moves.

People don't rot overnight.

I was the one who was blind, who couldn't see the rot beneath the surface.

I took a deep breath, and the last flicker of warmth in my eyes died out.

I turned and walked away from that room, thick with the stench of betrayal.