"My sister gave birth to my husband’s child, and my mother helped them hide it—so I divorced the Las Vegas mafia boss, vanished from America, and remarried. Three years later, Dante Moretti saw me back in his city holding another man's son, and the untouchable crime boss went pale."

I thought the encounter at the Bellagio would be the end of it. I thought Dante would take the hint, swallow his pride, and retreat to his casino kingdom.

I had forgotten that betrayal in my biological family didn't stop with Dante.

At 2:00 PM, a timid, trembling knock sounded at the double oak doors of the penthouse suite.

I stood up, handing Julian to his trusted nanny, Nora, who took him into the adjacent bedroom. I walked to the door, pulled it open, and felt my heart give a cold, heavy thump.

Standing in the carpeted hallway was my mother, Eleanor, and my younger sister, Lily.

Three years had aged them both terribly. Eleanor looked frail, her hair dyed a harsh blonde that failed to hide the deep lines etched around her mouth and eyes. She wore an expensive designer coat that I recognized as a brand Dante frequently gifted to his inner circle—a gilded bribe for her continued silence.

Lily stood beside her, looking pale, thin, and hollowed out. She was twenty-four now, but the radiant, carefree girl I had once protected was entirely gone. She wore an oversized wool sweater, her dark hair pulled back into a messy, unwashed knot, and her hazel eyes were red-rimmed and filled with a desperate, terrified grief.

Clutched in Lily’s hand was the fingers of a three-year-old girl with dark, curly hair and striking gray eyes—Isabella Moretti Bennett.

I stood in the doorway, my hand resting flat against the wood, looking at the three women who had systematically dismantled my trust three years ago.

“Claire…” Eleanor choked out, her voice trembling as tears welled in her aged eyes. “Claire, my baby… oh God, it really is you…”

She took a step forward, reaching out her manicured hands to embrace me.

I stepped backward into the entryway, raising one hand flat in the air to halt her progress.

“Do not touch me, Eleanor,” I said, my voice deadpan, devoid of any warmth.

Eleanor flinched as if I had slapped her across the face. She pulled her hands back, clutching her designer purse against her chest, weeping softly. “Claire, please! It’s been three years! We didn't know where you went—we thought you were dead! Dante almost lost his mind searching for you!”

“Dante lost his mind because he lost control of a narrative,” I corrected coldly, looking past my mother to fix my gaze directly on Lily.

Lily couldn't meet my eyes. She stared down at the carpet, tears dropping from her lashes onto her toddler’s jacket.

“Claire…” Lily sobbed, her voice breaking into pathetic, desperate gasps. “Claire, please… I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry for what I did to you. I was young, I was stupid, and Dante… Dante promised me everything…”

“And did he give you everything, Lily?” I asked, my voice carrying a razor-sharp edge. “Did he marry you? Did he give you the Moretti name? Or did he keep you in a luxury townhouse in Henderson like a dirty little secret while he spent eighteen months chasing across Europe looking for the wife who abandoned him?”

Lily let out a sharp, choked cry, burying her face in her hands.

The silence that followed was absolute, confirming every suspicion I had harbored. Dante had never married Lily. He had taken care of the child financially, provided a house and a trust fund, but he had refused to give Lily the position of his wife. He had left her trapped in a golden cage, isolated, disgraced, and utterly abandoned by the high society she had sacrificed her sister to join.

“Claire, you don't understand,” Eleanor pleaded, stepping in front of her younger daughter. “Dante didn't want Lily! It was a mistake—a single night of weakness when he was drunk after a meeting in Reno! He never loved her! He’s always loved you!”

I let out a soft, incredulous laugh that cut through Eleanor’s hysterical rambling like a butcher’s knife.

“A single night of weakness?” I repeated, looking down at three-year-old Isabella, who was looking up at me with Dante’s exact gray eyes. “He slept with my sister in my own house, Eleanor. He fathered a child with her, and you helped them hide it! You changed your front door codes, you blocked my calls, and you sent him text messages telling him to keep me away from the hospital because I was an inconvenience!”

Eleanor’s face turned paper-white. She staggered back a step, realizing for the first time that I had seen the text messages on her phone that night three years ago.

“Claire… I was only trying to protect Lily…” Eleanor whimpered, tears streaming down her wrinkles.

“You chose,” I said, each word dropping like a stone into a deep well. “You chose a mob boss’s money and your younger daughter’s secret over your firstborn child. You made your choice three years ago, Eleanor. Now live with it.”

I reached for the heavy oak door to slam it shut.

“Claire, wait!” Lily shrieked, grabbing the frame with her thin fingers. “Please! Dante is going out of his mind! He’s going to war with your new husband’s company! He told his capos this morning that he’s going to block the Long Beach terminal deal unless Arthur meets him face-to-face tonight!”

My hand froze on the brass door handle.