The Principessa's Cruel Choice

It was Caspian Thorne. The infamous playboy Don had decided to pay a personal visit.

Without looking up, Caspian spoke, his voice a lazy drawl. "Miss Valachi, what would you like for an engagement gift? How about the Thorne family's control over the Brooklyn docks?"

I stopped a few feet from him, studying the man. He was, I had to admit, more handsome than his portrait suggested, but also more arrogant, more flippant.

"I'll take the Thorne family's Brooklyn docks," I said.

The moment the words left my mouth, Caspian sat bolt upright. The frivolous smile vanished, and his gaze sharpened, becoming hard and analytical.

He stared at me for a long moment, then a slow, wide grin spread across his face.

"Deal," Caspian said.

He stood, brushing nonexistent dust from his suit. "But I should warn you. That old flame of yours isn't the type to give up. He might just crash our engagement party."

Caspian, it seemed, had Nico's number. Just then, the sound of a frantic argument drifted from the nearby pavilion.

"Nico, just tell her the truth!" Sierra was crying, her voice pitching into hysteria. "You only made me pretend to be your woman to protect her!"

My heart seized. I hadn't wanted an explanation. I had no interest. But Sierra’s words were a needle-sharp sting.

Nico’s voice was tight with pain. "I told you, it's over! There's no future for us!"

I was the one who ended it, so why did it still feel like a blade in my chest to hear him say it? I took a deep, steadying breath.

Caspian watched me, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. "Hear that? A classic melodrama. A shame you don't seem to be buying it."

I ignored him and walked toward the pavilion. At the edge, my eyes landed on Sierra’s belly. An act? If what she said was true… But her belly was round, at least seven or eight months along. What kind of act was this?

My voice was so calm it was chilling. "Quite the performance. You've even roped a child into it. You always did give your all to the job, didn't you, Nico?"

Nico's face went white. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Sierra dissolved into fresh sobs, a pathetic sound that turned my stomach. She fumbled with her phone, pulling up a few pictures.

Then her hand conveniently slipped, and the phone clattered to the ground. The screen glowed with screenshots from her social media.

Last Valentine's Day: a photo of Nico kissing her passionately in a penthouse suite. Another post flaunted a ten-million-dollar diamond ring.

At that exact time, I had cut myself off from my family, broke, and was living in a rat-infested apartment, barely scraping by. When acute appendicitis landed me in the hospital, I was utterly alone in a cold, sterile room.

My expression hardened. All my suffering, my waiting… it was all a fucking joke.

I turned to Caspian, who had followed me, and forced my voice to sound casual. "Do you know something I don't?"

Caspian paused, his gaze turning serious. "I only know that the man who sent Nico to Chicago was a mole my own father had planted in their organization."

A cold dread washed over me.

"And the woman he brought back," Caspian continued, his voice low, "her entire file is a fabrication. She's not the informant from his official report."

His words hit me like a physical blow, but I held myself perfectly still.