He Cheated, So I Proposed to the Don

For five years, Marco Falcone was the perfect man. Or so I thought.

The illusion shattered on the night of our engagement party, when his mistress crashed it, a five-year-old boy in tow.

The boy ran straight to Marco, crying, "Daddy! Daddy, I finally found you!"

It had to be some kind of sick joke.

But then Marco turned to me, his voice stripped of all warmth. "This is my son, Leo. A… mistake Sofia and I made five years ago."

"Leo is the Falcone heir. I have to legitimize them. That means I'll be engaged to Sofia first."

"But Lydia, believe me, I still love you. We can have our engagement party in six months. You're going to be the Donna of the Falcone family. I expect you to be generous and understanding. This is non-negotiable."

I laughed, a cold, sharp sound, and slid the engagement ring off my finger.

My eyes scanned the room and locked on the man in the corner—Lorenzo Moretti, the most powerful Don in New York.

He held another title, one only I knew: the man who’d been trying to make me his.

"Don Moretti," I called out, my voice clear and steady. "I find myself in need of a new fiancé. Are you interested?"

The kind, gentle man I loved revealed his true colors when his mistress and their five-year-old son crashed our engagement party. He told me to step aside. In an instant, I was no longer his fiancée, but the other woman.

Warm light from crystal chandeliers glittered across the room. Champagne flutes sparkled on silver trays.

My fingers traced the facets of the diamond on my engagement ring.

This was my engagement party to Marco Falcone. I was supposed to be ecstatic.

"Lydia, you seem tense." Marco’s hand settled on my waist, his voice that familiar, gentle caress.

"Just excited." I turned, offering him a smile. "After tonight, we're official."

Marco's smile faltered. "Lydia, there's something I need to..."

CRASH!

The grand doors of the ballroom were thrown open. The lively chatter died. A disheveled woman with wild blonde hair burst in, a desperate look on her face.

More shocking was the little boy trailing her—a miniature of Marco.

The moment he spotted Marco, the boy tore away from the woman and ran straight for us.

"Daddy! Daddy, I finally found you!"

A hush fell over the hall. It was so quiet you could hear a heartbeat.

My first thought: this is a twisted joke. My hand twitched, ready to signal security to have them thrown out.

But then I saw the blood drain from Marco's face.

"Leo? What are you—Sofia, why the hell did you bring him here?" Marco's voice was a raw mix of shock and fury.

Sofia? I looked at the woman. She was staring at me with unconcealed triumph. "I'm tired of waiting, Marco. Five years. I'm done hiding in the shadows."

"What five years?" My own voice sounded terrifyingly calm, but I could feel the weight of every guest's gaze burning into my skin.

Marco sighed, as if her performance had moved him.

He turned to me, his eyes now holding a chill I'd never seen. "Lydia, this is Sofia. And this is my son, Leo. It was... an accident. Five years ago."

An accident? I watched the woman press herself against Marco, her body language possessive, intimate.

I knew with chilling certainty this was no accident.

"Marco, I know I shouldn't have come... but I had to, for our son. To give him a legitimate name." Sofia gazed at Marco, tears glistening in her eyes. It was a masterfully played scene. "Leo needs his father. A real family. And so do I."

"And what about me?" My voice was tight with a fury so sharp it almost sounded like a laugh.

Marco didn't hesitate. His next words turned my blood to ice. "Lydia, I need you to be reasonable. I swear, I still love you. But Leo is the Falcone heir. His existence changes things. It affects my standing in the Family. Before we can marry, I have to legitimize him and Sofia."

"Consider it a trial run before you become the Donna of the Falcone family. You need to prove you can be generous and understanding. Don't worry, it's temporary. I'll be with Sofia for six months, and then we'll have our engagement party again."

He stepped closer, his voice a low, commanding whisper. "Now, you're going to help me smooth this over. We can't show weakness in front of our business partners. Understand?"

Before I could answer, he waved a photographer over. "A family picture. We need to project unity and strength for the Falcone name."

Unity? Strength? I stared at Marco, the man I'd given five years of my life to, and saw, for the first time, the cold, ruthless calculator behind the charming facade.

"Of course, I still love you, Lydia," he murmured in my ear. "This is just politics. A man in my position has to make difficult choices."

But his idea of a difficult choice was to demote me from his fiancée to a pariah.

I took a step back, my eyes sweeping the room. The guests, who had been offering congratulations moments before, now watched with a cocktail of pity, curiosity, and morbid fascination.

Then, my gaze locked on a table in the corner. A man sat there, his dark hair slicked back, his deep-set gray eyes watching the chaos unfold with unnerving calm. An aura of power clung to him, evident even as he sat, his imposing frame barely contained by his tailored suit.

Lorenzo Moretti. The Capo di tutti i capi, the most powerful Don in New York.

He also held another title, one only I knew: the man who’d been trying to make me his.

I had turned him down. More than once.

The moment our eyes met, he slowly, deliberately, rose to his feet.

The tension in the room crackled. Even Marco took an involuntary step back.

I took a deep, steadying breath, slid the heavy diamond ring off my finger, and walked directly toward Lorenzo.

"Don Moretti." I stopped before him, my voice ringing with clarity for the entire hall to hear. "I find myself in need of a new fiancé. Are you interested?"

A slow, rare smile spread across Lorenzo’s usually grim face, transforming it. "Lydia, I've been waiting ten years for you to ask me something like that."

"What? Lydia, have you lost your mind?" Marco's voice, dripping with disbelief and rage, echoed from behind me.

I didn't spare him a glance. My eyes were fixed on the hand Lorenzo extended to me. "So, Don Moretti, your answer?"

"The answer is yes, mia cara. My future wife." Lorenzo's hand enveloped mine, his touch warm and firm.

"You shameless whore!" Sofia shrieked. "Marco, look at the trash you chose! Throwing herself at another man right in front of you!"

The little boy, Leo, suddenly charged at me, his small hands grabbing the hem of my couture gown and yanking. "You're a bad woman! Mommy said you stole my daddy!"

The sickening sound of ripping silk filled the air. I looked down at the boy, his face twisted with the same malice as his mother's.

I knelt, bringing myself to his level. My voice was a soft whisper, but it carried the chill of a tomb. "Listen closely, little one. The engagement between your father and me is over. You won."

I rose, turned to Marco and Sofia, and offered them a beatific smile. "I wish you two a lifetime of happiness. May you be shackled to each other for all eternity."