Claimed by the True Heir

The pain didn't explode all at once.

It was like a silenced bullet had lodged in my heart, its poison slowly seeping into my blood.

Logically, a Falcone, raised in a world of violence, shouldn't be this fragile.

It was just betrayal, a common currency in our world.

But Nico was the one who made the first move.

I remembered the night he took me to the underground drag races.

The roar of the engines was like a beast's howl. I flew past the finish line in my modified McLaren, adrenaline burning through my veins.

So when he rushed over and kissed me, I didn't push him away.

That kiss was mixed with the metallic taste of blood from where I'd bitten his lip.

Gasping for air, I asked him over the roar, "Nico, what are we now?"

Nico's fingers brushed my blood-stained lips. "What else could we be, Principessa? We're going to conquer the world together."

And I really believed him. I thought this was his grand confession, that we'd soon be the most envied couple in the underworld.

The gamblers in the stands were roaring, the air electric, just like my foolish heart back then.

But now, with his own hands, Nico had crushed my dignity into dust.

I laughed, but tears streamed down my face uncontrollably.

Did he really think I was stupid enough to let him control me?

In the penthouse, the amethyst wind chimes swayed gently, as if trying to soothe me.

My shattered heart began to piece itself back together, reforged into something harder.

Nico was dead wrong.

He was just an illegitimate son from the declining Moretti family, desperate to climb the ladder. I am a blade forged by the Don of the Falcone family himself.

We were separated by blood and station. We never should have crossed paths.

The transfer request in my hand was wrinkled from my grip, the name of that bleak coastal town on it glaringly harsh.

When something is sullied, you dispose of it.

In the Falcone vocabulary, there is no such thing as "indispensable."

I flicked open my lighter, watched the form turn to ash, and then dialed the encrypted line to the family's Consigliere.

"Consigliere, I need you to change my flight plan."

"Not the outpost. I'm going to Sicily, straight to the Council."

"Yes. Alone."

I hung up. The wind chimes tinkled, crisp and clear, like a prophecy.

I closed my eyes, and the face that appeared in my mind was no longer Nico's hypocritical mask.

Instead, it was the face of a man who looked vaguely like Nico but with sharper, more intense features. He was smiling at me with the same knowing confidence as he had two years ago:

"Scarlett, you'll ditch him sooner or later. In this world, only you and I are the same kind of monster."

I thought he was joking at the time.

Now, I repeated the words to myself.

"Nico, you're out."

Just as I began to calm down, the biometric lock on the door beeped, flashing green.

The security for this penthouse was top tier. Besides me, only one other person had their iris scanned into the system.

The door opened.

Nico walked in, wearing the trench coat I'd given him. His tone was familiar, with a hint of reproach. "Scarlett, why aren't you answering your phone? Everyone's waiting for you."

I looked at him coldly. "I was handling something private."

Just as I was about to tell him to leave, a petite figure peeked out from behind him.

Chloe, like a startled fawn, clung to Nico's arm and gave a dramatic flinch the moment our eyes met.

Nico noticed immediately. He instinctively pulled her behind him, his brow furrowed.

"Scarlett, dial it back. You're scaring Chloe."

Here we go again.

At all those so-called "gatherings with the guys," she always pulls this pitiful act, making me look like the aggressive, wicked villain.

My gaze swept over Chloe's cheap heels, and my voice dropped to a freezing point. "Who gave you permission to bring an outsider into my apartment?"

Nico's displeasure was written all over his face. "Chloe is not an outsider."

"She heard you weren't feeling well and insisted on coming to check on you."

Before I could speak, Chloe's eyes were already red-rimmed. Her voice was as faint as a mosquito's buzz, yet just loud enough for us both to hear:

"I'm sorry, Miss Scarlett. I know my station is... humble... I'm not worthy of stepping on your carpets..."

She bit her lip, tears welling up on command. "But I was just worried because Nico was worried about you. I'll leave right now, I won't dirty the place."

Every word was a calculated tug on Nico's protective instincts.

He shot me a look, his eyes filled with disappointment and accusation. "Scarlett, that's too harsh. Chloe might not have your background, but that doesn't make her worthless."

"The way you're treating her... I'm really disappointed in you."

Right on cue, Chloe tugged at Nico's sleeve, her understanding act flawless.

"Nico, don't. Miss Scarlett is your childhood sweetheart, and the family's princess. Someone like me should never have hoped to be her equal..."

"Don't be ridiculous."

Nico cupped her face, his voice so gentle it could melt butter. "From the moment you stood up for me at the club, you've been special to me."

When he turned back to me, his face instantly turned cold. "Chloe's upset. I'm going to take her home."

"You should take a good long look at yourself. And don't forget the transfer request needs to be stamped."

He wrapped his arm around Chloe and left, as if punishing me for my "impertinence."

The door closed.

I did take a good long look at myself.

I took a moment to reflect on how I could have been so blind for so many years.

I walked to the central console, and without a second's hesitation, I hit "Delete" on Nico's icon and ID as they popped up on the screen.

Then, I revoked all security permissions for the apartment, including the iris scan.

The rage that had been building inside me finally found a sliver of release.