From Costello's Shadow to Volkov's Queen

In my previous life, to solidify our alliance, I had moved into Miguel's penthouse at my father's instruction.

Since my father hadn't yet arranged my trip to New York, I was, for the moment, still living there.

Miguel descended the spiral staircase, his smile vanishing the instant he saw me. His expression turned cold, as if he were looking at something unpleasant he'd found on his shoe.

No, that wasn't right. He would treat a stranger with more courtesy.

"Lucia, why are you still here? Isla and I are engaged. Why are you still squatting in my house? Have you no shame?"

I scoffed internally.

I gave him a fleeting glance and calmly cut a piece of tiramisu from my plate. "I'm not interfering with you two. I just haven't found another place to live yet."

Seeing me so indifferent, Miguel frowned. "What game are you playing? I'm warning you, Lucia. No matter what you do, I will not marry you."

Even though I'd braced myself, his words still sent a pang through my heart.

In my past life, I had tried for ten years and failed to earn a place in his heart.

After our engagement, Miguel had deliberately kept our relationship in the shadows. Most in the family knew their Don was iron-fisted, but few knew a woman behind the scenes handled his illicit accounts.

Now, merely engaged to Isla, he couldn't wait to shout it from the rooftops.

Even the street-level soldati knew that the new Don of the Costello family was about to marry Isla as his Donna.

The difference between being the one he loved and the one he didn't was staggering.

Before I could respond, Isla's cloying voice drifted down from upstairs.

"Darling, didn't we say we were going downtown? I want to pick out the perfect diamond for our wedding rings."

The frost on Miguel's face melted instantly, his expression softening into one of pure adoration.

"Of course. Anything for you."

Isla linked her arm with Miguel's and shot me a contemptuous glance.

In our past life, Miguel had claimed to be a germaphobe. He refused to share a bed with me and wouldn't even drink from a glass I'd touched.

But now, as Isla casually handed him the whiskey she'd just sipped, he took it without a second thought, his lips touching the same spot hers had been.

Even though I'd resolved to let go, the sight of their intimacy still stung.

Disgusting.

I put down my fork and retreated to my room. Only then did the suffocating tightness in my chest begin to ease.

I stared blankly at the framed photo on the wall, one I had begged Miguel to take with me in our past life.

In the photo, my smile was radiant. The man beside me, however, looked impatient, his expression bordering on disgust.

How could I have been so blind?

Shaking off the thought, I stood, took the frame from the wall, and smashed it against the floor before sweeping the shards into the trash.

If he believed this photo shouldn't exist, then I would make it so.

Just then, a sharp knock came at the door, followed by Miguel's icy voice.

"Isla likes the city view from the master bedroom. Pack your things and move out so she can have it. The other guest rooms are full. You can stay in the servants' quarters for now."