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The Don's Betrayal, My Unstoppable Rise Novel Cover

The Don's Betrayal, My Unstoppable Rise

For seven years, I was the perfect, silent wife to Dante De Luca, the Don of the Chicago Outfit. Our marriage was a contract, signed only because his true love, Isabella, left him at the altar. Then, she came back. He made me watch as he chose her, again and again. He took her into a dark closet for Seven Minutes in Heaven, emerging with a fresh love bite on her neck. Then, she framed me for stealing her diamond necklace. "She's a thief, Dante, just like her mother!" Isabella wailed. My husband didn't hesitate. He shoved me against a table and had his men throw me into the family's private holding cell. He knew it was a setup, but he still called me trash, not fit to clean her shoes. I finally understood. I was never his wife. I was just a "low-cost placeholder," a body in his bed until Isabella returned. I was disposable. So when I was finally released, I walked away. His biggest rival was waiting for me with a job offer: Chief Design Director. I would compete against Dante for the city's biggest contract, using the very architectural designs he stole from me and gave to his mistress. I would build an empire on the ashes of his pride.
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Chapter 3

Seraphina POV:

The rain began to fall as I drove through the empty streets, each drop on the windshield blurring the city lights into a watercolor wash, bleeding together much like my memories.

My mother had worked as a housekeeper for the De Luca family for over a decade. Her silence, the result of a childhood fever, made her an easy target, yet it was her salary that sent me to the most elite private school in Chicago. The same school as Isabella Ricci-who, in a cruel twist of fate, was also my roommate.

I was the "help's daughter," an outcast in a world of wealth and privilege. But I learned to stand my ground. When others tried to intimidate me, I found ways to show them I wouldn't be broken. I learned that to survive, I had to be resilient.

The worst was my senior year. Isabella and her friends cornered me in the empty auditorium. They surrounded me on the stage, their taunts echoing in the vast space as they threatened to orchestrate a public scandal so humiliating it would destroy my scholarship and my future.

Suddenly, a voice cut through their laughter. "Stop."

It was Dante. He was a few years older, already an impressive figure in the halls of our school. He took a step forward, and his associate, who had been standing in the wings, lowered his phone. "That's enough," Dante said. It wasn't a request. It was a command.

He pulled me to my feet and took me to the estate's private infirmary to check for injuries. It was the first time anyone in that world had shown me a shred of decency. It was the first time my heart stirred for him.

I started watching him from the shadows, a secret, naive crush taking root in my heart. But all I ever saw was the way he looked at Isabella, a possessive, all-consuming fire that left no room for anyone else.

So I buried my feelings. I poured all my energy into my studies, graduating at the top of my class from a prestigious university with a degree in architectural design.

The day I graduated, I found myself back at the De Luca estate. It was the day of Dante and Isabella's wedding. The ninth attempt. The music was playing, the guests were seated, but the bride was gone. A single text was all she'd left: *Ran off with some pretty boy. Don't wait up.*

The public humiliation was the final straw. Dante's legendary composure finally fractured. His cold, furious eyes scanned the crowd of guests, and then they landed on me, standing awkwardly near the back. He strode straight up to me.

"Marry me," he said.

Stunned into silence, I could only stare at him. He was the most powerful man I knew, and he was asking me, the housekeeper's daughter, to be his wife. For a wild, foolish moment, the girl who'd watched him from the shadows screamed that this was my only chance. I hesitated, then gave a single, fateful nod.

I married a man who didn't even know my first name. And just like that, the contract was sealed.

For seven years, our marriage was a contract. A cold, respectful arrangement. He was a good provider. When my mother was diagnosed with pneumothorax, a collapsed lung, he flew in the best medical team in the country, and they saved her life. He showered me with extravagant gifts and paraded me at public functions, as the perfect, beautiful wife on the arm of the Don.

I was a fool. I once believed these were signs of his growing affection. I thought that maybe, over time, he could come to love me.

That foolish hope died a month ago.

I was passing his study when I heard him talking to his Consigliere.

"Isabella is coming back," Dante said, his voice flat. "She's single now."

The Consigliere was hesitant. "And Seraphina?"

I held my breath, waiting.

"She was always a placeholder," Dante's voice was like ice. "A convenient solution. The moment Isabella wants to come back-for real-Seraphina is gone."

*

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