After My Ex Left Me At The Altar, I Married the King of the Underworld

Ryder still hadn't let go, forcing me to look at him.

"If you're looking to get killed, don't drag the Conti family down with you."

He lowered his voice, but he couldn't hide the fear in it.

"Forging a Vettori family sigil and saying the Godfather's name in public... Emilia, are you trying to get us all killed?"

The Soldatos, who had been enjoying the show, instantly paled.

Anyone in this life knew the price of impersonating someone from the Vettori family.

It meant a one-way trip to the bottom of the Hudson River, sealed in a concrete barrel.

A few of the more cowardly ones even took a step back, staring at me as if I were the plague.

"Dammit, Emilia, are you crazy? We begged and pleaded for this job today." One of the men pointed at me, his finger trembling.

"Boss, she's trying to provoke the Vettoris with this cheap fake! She wants them to think the Contis are challenging them!"

"She's getting revenge! I can't believe she'd come up with such a vicious plan."

Ryder shoved me away, wiping his hand on his suit as if my touch had soiled it.

"Crazy bitch."

"Looks like three years on the streets taught you nothing."

I lifted my head. My jaw throbbed, but my gaze was as still as a frozen lake as I stared straight at Ryder.

Perhaps he'd never seen me like this, because he froze, his words dying in his throat.

A crony Carmela had planted in the group saw his chance and added with a sneer,

"Boss, don't let her fool you. This woman is just bitter. She wants to ruin your alliance with the Rossi family."

"It's classic jealousy. If she's miserable, she wants to drag everyone else down to hell with her."

Ryder seemed to find this a reasonable explanation.

Perhaps the word "jealousy" soothed his pathetic ego.

He was silent for a few seconds, then suddenly pulled a thick wad of cash from his suit jacket and stuffed it into my hands, as if I were a beggar.

"Alright. For old times' sake, I'll help you out one last time."

"This is twenty thousand dollars. Go into the city, find a decent hotel, clean yourself up, and buy some respectable clothes. You need to hide how pathetic you look."

"I'll talk to Carmela. As long as you're willing to swallow your pride, you'll be taken care of in the kitchen."

He brushed off his lapel. "Don't worry. I'm a Capo in charge of several districts now. This is just pocket change to me."

Looking at the cash in my hands, I almost laughed.

In Sicily, Zayn gave me a black card with no spending limit for my allowance.

Twenty thousand dollars?

It wasn't even enough to cover the cost of a single paintbrush Zayn had casually gifted me.

But Ryder assumed this was the moment I'd been waiting for, the moment I would kneel at his feet, weeping with gratitude and selling my dignity for a handful of cash.

With a sudden burst of strength, I ripped my wrist from Ryder's remaining grip.

The wad of cash hit the tarmac with a slap, the bills scattering and taking flight in the wind.

"Not necessary, Mr. Conti." My voice was devoid of warmth.

"I don't accept charity from strangers. It's dirty."