He Traded A Diamond For Cheap Glass

For three days, I played the invalid.

I let the staff whisper that the Ice Queen had finally cracked, that the pressure had shattered me. I let Alessandro believe I was broken, hiding in my room like a wounded animal, licking my wounds.

In reality, I was hunting.

My room was a tomb of shadows, lit only by the spectral glow of my laptop screen.

Giuseppe had earned his bonus. The bugs were everywhere. The study. The guest wing. Even the rafters of the stables.

I watched the live feed from the guest room—Aria’s room.

On screen, she was berating a maid.

"This silk is wrinkled!" Aria shrieked, throwing a blouse directly into the young girl’s face. "Do you know who I am? I'm the future Don's wife!"

I typed a note into my encrypted file: *Abuse of staff. Delusions of grandeur.*

Then, she sat on the bed, posture shifting, and pulled out a burner phone.

She dialed a number.

"Rico," she said. Her voice changed instantly. Gone was the breathless, helpless victim she played for Alessandro. In her place was the Jersey hustler. "Yeah, I got the necklace. It's heavy as shit. When can we fence it?"

I froze.

*Fence it.*

She was planning to sell the heirloom.

"I need three days," she continued. "Alessandro is an idiot. He thinks I'm pregnant. He'll give me the codes to the safe soon."

I didn't just listen; I hit record.

My door burst open.

I didn't jump. I calmly lowered the laptop screen just enough to obscure the feed, but didn't close it.

Alessandro stood framed in the doorway. He looked disheveled.

"Stop the drama," he snapped. "You've been in here for three days. It looks bad."

"Does it?" I asked, my voice smooth as glass. "Worse than buying your mistress a four-million-dollar necklace while your wife sits ten feet away?"

He flinched as if struck.

"Get dressed," he ordered, deflecting. "We have dinner with the Rossis. You need to be there. To show unity."

"Unity?" I laughed—a dry, brittle sound. "You shattered unity when you let her wear my grandmother's diamonds."

I stood up, tightening my silk robe like armor.

"She isn't your sister, Alessandro," I said softly.

He froze.

"I know the story you tell people. A distant cousin. A charity case," I said, stepping closer. "But we both know the truth. Her parents are alive in Jersey. She owes the Cartel three million. She's a grifter."

Alessandro’s face went ashy pale. The silence stretched, taut and suffocating.

"I know," he finally admitted, the words barely a whisper.

The admission hung in the air.

"You know?" I whispered.

"She needs me," he said, his voice taking on that pathetic, desperate edge. "She was in trouble. I saved her. She gives me warmth, Katarina. You give me frost. You judge me. She worships me."

"Your Savior Complex is pathetic," I sneered. "You're burning your kingdom to keep a rat warm."

His phone buzzed.

He glanced at the screen. *Aria.*

"I have to go," he muttered.

He reached into his pocket and tossed a velvet box onto the bed.

"Wear this tonight," he said. "Try to look like you're trying."

He left, the door clicking shut behind him.

I opened the box.

A diamond bracelet. Expensive, certainly, but utterly generic. The kind of thing you buy to shut someone up.

I walked to the trash can and dropped it in. It landed with a satisfying thud.

I went back to my desk and opened the laptop.

I played the video of Aria talking to Rico again.

*Alessandro is an idiot.*

I dragged the file onto an encrypted black USB drive.

The metal felt delightfully cold against my palm.

This wasn't just evidence of infidelity. This was evidence of stupidity. Proof that the Underboss was being played by a common thief.

It was treason.

I closed my fist around the drive.

"I control the board now," I whispered to the empty room.

Tonight, at the Rossi dinner, I wouldn't just be a guest.

I would be the executioner.