To Seize a Stolen Crown

An encrypted call came in the day my husband, Preston Gallo—heir to the Gallo crime family—left for Miami to “handle family business.” The call was from De Beers, Chicago’s most exclusive jeweler.

The manager’s voice was strained. "Principessa, my apologies for the intrusion. Mr. Gallo commissioned a custom emerald ring this afternoon but departed before settling the final payment. We were hoping to confirm how you'd like to proceed."

My mind went blank. An emerald ring? The design for that ring was a Gallo family heirloom, meant for the wife of the family's heir.

I compartmentalized my shock and dialed Preston’s number, a test forming on my lips.

"Darling, your bank manager just contacted me. He mentioned some unusual activity on one of your cards—a large pending payment at a jeweler."

Preston paused for half a second, then chuckled lightly.

"Ah, don't sweat it. Just appeasing a new asset. The girl did a little job for us, got hysterical. A bauble was all it took to quiet her down."

I smiled and replied, "I see." After hanging up, I called the jeweler again, my voice now ice-cold.

"Secure all transaction recordings. I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

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1

I strode into the private viewing room of the jewelry store on the Magnificent Mile.

The manager looked distinctly uncomfortable when he saw me. "Principessa. The remaining balance is one million, two hundred thousand dollars."

I took out my black card but didn't hand it over immediately. "That can't be right. The ring itself isn't that expensive. I'll need to verify this against the family accounts, so please pull up the surveillance footage."

He hesitated for a moment but nodded. "Of course, please wait a moment."

He brought up the surveillance video, and a familiar figure soon appeared on the screen. It was my husband, Preston Gallo.

Standing beside him was a sultry girl poured into a tight red dress, her figure flawless and her eyes burning with ambition.

Preston personally placed the emerald ring on her hand, then bowed his head and devoutly kissed the back of it. This was an act he had once reserved only for me, a symbol of submission and adoration.

A vicious pang seized my chest. The very same gesture he'd used when he put a ring on my finger.

On the screen, the girl lifted her head and gave him a triumphant smile. As she moved, I saw the tattoo on her wrist.

My eyes locked onto it.

It was a thorn bird.

It was the "matching" tattoo for the eagle on Preston's arm—an emblem he had sworn to reserve for his one and only soulmate.

The manager beside me was still explaining, "Mr. Gallo also purchased a pair of diamond earrings and a bracelet, so that's the total amount."

I barely heard a word he said.

I lifted my phone, captured a clear image of the screen, and then swiped my card to settle the bill.

"It's handled."

I turned to leave, then paused. Sauntering back to him, I offered a smile that was all ice and edges.

"For security reasons, I need a copy of the recording and this guest's registration information to assess potential security risks to the family."

He didn't dare ask any more questions and immediately complied, even giving me a substantial discount as compensation for this "mishap."

A few seconds later, my phone vibrated. The high-definition video and her information had been sent over. Her face and the tattoo were both crystal clear.

I sat in my car, my hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly that my knuckles turned white.

When I returned home, the house was deathly silent.

I walked straight into Preston's study.

Inside his safe, the legendary painting I was about to finish restoring—Seraphina's Lament—was gone.

I opened my encrypted communicator and contacted my closest friend, Chicago's top intelligence expert, Cassia Thorne.

Cassia answered the line, her voice as crisp and efficient as ever. "Alessia. Is this an emergency?"

"I need you to look into someone for me," I said, my voice unnaturally calm. "A nightclub dancer named Ivy Reed. Also, I want a full trace on all of Preston's secret accounts and movements for the past six months. I need complete bank statements, hotel records, and travel logs. I need everything. Leave no stone unturned."

Cassia was silent for a second. "Is Preston in trouble?"

"Worse than that."

Just as I hung up, Preston's call came through.