His Brother's Bride

I was a nobody, but for three years, I was in love with Dante, the heir to the Blackwood family—Chicago's biggest name in the mob. The day I found out I was pregnant, I was overjoyed. I couldn't wait to tell him the good news. But then I heard his twin brother, Marco, ask him, "Bro, when are you gonna tell Rose it was me in her bed every night, pretending I was you?" Dante's voice had a coldness I'd never heard before. "At the wedding, in one week. I'll expose everything, then I'll propose to Isabella." Isabella. The rich girl who used to bully me. So, this was all just payback for his precious Isabella. But what Dante didn't know was that the wedding he'd so carefully planned would be missing its bride. Chapter 1 A week before I was supposed to marry Dante, heir to the Blackwood crime family, I found out I was pregnant. At the same time, I found out the truth about our love story—it was all an act to get revenge for his beloved Isabella, just because I’d “stolen her spotlight” back in school. I didn’t let on that I knew. I quietly scheduled an abortion and submitted an application to become a war correspondent. I decided to give Dante a “gift” of my own, right at the wedding. The blood test was clear: Pregnant. I stared at the word, my heart pounding. Three years. Three whole years with Dante, and we finally had a child of our own. The timing was perfect, right as we were planning our wedding. The Chicago blizzard was brutal. There were hardly any cabs on the street. I shivered in the wind and snow for over twenty minutes before I finally flagged one down. On the way, I kept imagining Dante's reaction. He'd freeze for a second, then flash that smile that always made my heart race. He'd pull me into a tight hug and whisper, "I love you, Rose." The BlackRose Club was the Blackwood family’s private spot, insanely luxurious but in that quiet, old-money way. The guards at the door knew me and just nodded me in. Dante was probably in a private room upstairs, handling business. I walked up the stairs slowly, my palms sweating. After tonight, everything would be different. We'd talk about baby names, plan our future. The door to the room was slightly ajar. I could hear the low rumble of men talking and laughing. I took a deep breath, about to push the door open, when I heard a familiar voice. "The three-year charade is almost over." It was Dante's voice, but with a chilling coldness I'd never heard. My hand froze in mid-air. A knot of dread formed in my stomach. "Boss, you're telling me that girl never suspected a thing?" a gruff voice asked. Dante let out a cold laugh that made my blood run cold. "Rose? She's so dumb it's almost cute. She still thinks the man holding her every night is me." What? My breath hitched. I peeked through the crack in the door. "But you and Marco don't sound the same..." another man asked, confused. "I just make up some excuse, and she buys it. Said I was drunk, or had a cold, whatever. Hahaha." Another sharp laugh. I saw his face through the crack—a face identical to the man I loved. But the expression on it was cruel and cold, something I'd never seen before. Marco. Dante’s twin brother. I'd never met Marco; I only knew he existed. Dante had told me Marco handled family business in Europe and rarely came back to Chicago. Whenever I asked, he'd say they didn't get along and told me not to push it. But what was he saying now? "Bro, you really never touched Rose? Seriously though, she's a hell of a ride." Marco’s face twisted into a sickening grin that made me want to throw up. I had to fight to hold it down. Dante sneered. "I'm not interested in her type. If she hadn't pissed off Isabella, I wouldn't have wasted a second on a gold-digging whore like her." Isabella. Hearing her name felt like a punch to the gut. Isabella Morrison, the girl who bullied me for three years straight at our private school. She was a princess of Chicago's elite; I was just a scholarship kid. She was always finding ways to humiliate me, to make me feel worthless. So, this was all her plan. And a gold digger? I thought about how for three years, I’d refused every expensive gift from Dante, even spending half my salary just to buy him a tie worthy of his status. I stood at the door, a deep chill running through my body. The conversation inside continued. "The boss's plan is perfect. Give Rose hope, let her think she's found true love. Then, right when she's at her happiest, kick her straight to hell." "When are you going to tell her the truth?" Dante was silent for a long time, so long I almost thought he felt a flicker of pity for me. Then I heard his ice-cold reply: "In a week. At our wedding." "I'm going to make her understand what happens to women who try to climb their way into the mob. The perfect man she thinks she found, Dante Blackwood, was just an act we put on for her." I bit my lip so hard I could taste blood, trying not to make a sound. "And after that, boss?" Dante paused. Then I heard the cruelest words of my life. "I'll dump her, and then I'm going to ask Isabella to marry me." Chapter 2 I stumbled out of the club, the blizzard's wind cutting my face like razors. Tears froze on my cheeks almost instantly. I curled up on a bench, the words I’d just heard replaying in my head. Three years. It was all an elaborate lie. The memories flooded back. Three years ago, Isabella had poured a bowl of soup on me in the school cafeteria, mocking my secondhand clothes. I’d run to the library crying. That’s where I met Dante. He was so gentle, handing me a tissue and comforting me. "They're just jealous of how beautiful and smart you are," he'd said. I thought it was fate, meeting my light in my darkest moment. Now I knew. It wasn't a chance meeting. It was a setup, with Isabella pulling the strings. She’d paid one of her admirers to build me up, just so they could all watch me break. My phone rang, making me jump. St. Mary’s Hospital. "Miss Rose? Your grandmother's condition has taken a turn for the worse. Please come immediately," the nurse said urgently. My heart stopped. My grandma was the only family I had left. I couldn't lose her. I tried to hail a cab, but the streets were empty in the blizzard. Just as I was losing hope, a black Range Rover pulled up. The window rolled down, revealing a man with a strong jaw and a faint scar. He was in his early thirties, with dark hair and dark eyes. "Need a ride?" His voice was deep and steady. "I need to get to St. Mary's. My grandmother..." My voice broke. "Get in." He didn't ask any more questions. He drove smoothly, not asking why I was crying in a snowstorm, not trying to offer empty comforts. The silence felt safe. "Thank you," I said as I got out. He nodded and handed me a business card. "Call me if you need anything." I snatched it without looking and ran into the hospital. Grandma was lying in bed, her face ashen. She saw me and weakly squeezed my hand. "Rose, my child..." "Grandma, I'm here. The doctor said you're just tired, you'll be fine in a few days," I said, holding back tears. "Don't lie to me, child," she whispered. "I want to see Dante. When are you getting married? I want to see you in your wedding dress..." My chest ached with a pain so sharp it was hard to breathe. "He's... he's handling some business. He'll be here soon." "Call him. Tell him to hurry." She gripped my hand tighter. "I need to talk to him." My hands shook as I dialed the familiar number. Voicemail. I tried again and again. Same result. My grandmother waited all night, her eyes fixed on the door. She was waiting for the man she thought would be my husband, the man she was ready to entrust me to. But the door never opened. Not even when she took her last breath. "Rose... be happy..." were her last words. I knelt by her bed, sobbing until I couldn't breathe. Not because Dante didn't come, but because I didn't even know who I was supposed to call. The man I had loved for three years didn't exist. After handling the funeral arrangements, I dragged myself back to my apartment. I mindlessly opened Instagram, trying to distract myself, and saw Isabella's latest post. It was a picture of her on a man's arm as they stepped off a private jet. His profile was painfully familiar. The caption read: "Told him not to pick me up, but he insisted on the surprise. ??" So that's why he didn't have time to see my dying grandmother. He was busy picking up Isabella. I stared at the photo. That was the real Dante. Isabella’s Dante. Not the fake gentleness he showed me, but real, indulgent affection. And my "Dante"—the man who made me breakfast, watched sunsets with me, and whispered sweet nothings—was just a performance. I put down my phone, walked to the bathroom, and looked at my haggard reflection in the mirror. Enough. I picked up the phone and called the clinic. "I need to schedule an abortion. As soon as possible." Then, I opened my laptop and submitted an application to the news agency to become a war correspondent. The departure date was a week from now—my wedding day. With my grandmother gone, I had nothing left to tie me here. But first, to make sure I could leave without any trouble, I had to play along. Finally, I took out the recording from the club—thank God for my reporter's instincts. Dante wanted to expose the truth at the wedding. Perfect. I had a return gift for them, too. A gift they would never, ever forget. Chapter 3 The next day, after burying my grandmother, I dragged my exhausted body back to Dante’s mansion. The moment I put the key in the lock, I heard laughter from inside. I pushed the door open. Three people were in the living room: Dante, Marco, and Isabella. Their laughter died the moment they saw me. The air, thick with the smell of champagne and expensive perfume, made me sick to my stomach. "Rose, you're back." Dante stood up, that gentle smile I once loved plastered on his face. "Come, let me introduce you." I stood frozen at the door. "This is my twin brother, Marco." My eyes shifted to the man I knew. The wild grin from the club was gone, replaced by a mask of polite friendliness. "Hello, my dear... sister-in-law." He held out his hand, looking perfectly welcoming. The thought of the things I'd done with him made my stomach clench. I fought back the nausea and gave a stiff nod. "And this is my... friend, Isabella." The pause Dante took made the word "friend" sound like a joke. "Isabella, this is Rose." Isabella stood up gracefully, a vision in a custom white suit. She walked toward me with a perfect smile. "Rose! It's been so long!" She opened her arms as if to give me a warm hug. I instinctively wanted to step back, but she was already on me. To anyone else, it looked like a friendly embrace. But as her lips brushed my ear, her voice turned venomous. "You look well. I trust you've missed our... friendship." Her voice was a whisper, but it landed like a ton of bricks. I felt dizzy, the memories of her cutting me with a penknife, of her holding my head in a toilet bowl, flooding back… "Shut up!" I shoved her away with all my strength. Isabella stumbled back, "accidentally" hitting the corner of the coffee table. A red mark immediately appeared on her arm. She cried out, tears instantly welling in her eyes. "Rose!" Both Dante and Marco rushed to her side, their eyes shooting daggers at me. "What the hell are you doing?!" "I... she..." I tried to tell them who Isabella really was. But Marco cut me off, his fake smile gone, replaced by cold hostility. "Dante, it seems your fiancée doesn't understand Blackwood etiquette." Dante gently examined the mark on Isabella’s arm, then his gaze, cold as ice, fell on me. "Marco's right, Rose. You need to be taught a lesson." He grabbed my arm. I tried to pull away, but he was too strong. "What are you doing? Let go of me!" "Go to the basement and cool off," he said, dragging me toward the stairs. "You can come out when you've learned how to apologize." "No! Dante, don't!" I struggled. Panic clawed at me. I was claustrophobic—severely. And he knew it. Better than anyone. But he ignored me, dragging me to the basement door. It was a windowless storage room with only a tiny air vent. The thought of being locked in that small, dark space made it hard to breathe. "Please, Dante, don't do this..." I begged, my vision blurred with tears. "You know I'm afraid of the dark, you know..." He hesitated for a second. I thought he might soften. But then he shoved the door open with even more force. "This is what happens when you don't listen," he said, his voice like ice. "Think about what you did." BANG. The door slammed shut. The sound of the key turning in the lock was like a death sentence. Darkness swallowed me whole. I pounded on the door. "Let me out! Please! Dante!" The only answer was the sound of their laughter upstairs as they continued their party, as if nothing had happened. I curled into a ball in the corner, hugging my knees, trying to control my shaking. This basement... I remember Dante saying he'd had it renovated after buying the house. I'd wondered why he'd installed such a heavy door and a complex lock on a storage room. Now I knew. This basement had been built for me from the very beginning. In the endless dark, I could hear the sound of my own heart breaking. Chapter 4 Two days later, the basement door finally opened. Dante stood in the doorway, a dark silhouette against the light. I was huddled in the corner, my legs numb, my throat too hoarse to make a sound. "Out," he said, his tone flat, like he was calling a pet. I used the wall to pull myself up, my legs so weak I almost fell. Two days without food or water had left me completely drained. "We're going to try on wedding dresses today," he said, handing me a bottle of water. "Get ready. We leave in an hour." Trying on wedding dresses. As if nothing had happened. I mechanically washed up and changed. The woman in the mirror was pale and hollow-eyed, a ghost. An hour later, we were at the most exclusive bridal shop in the city. The staff greeted us warmly, and then I saw them—Isabella and Marco, already sitting on a sofa, sipping champagne. "Rose! You're here!" Isabella chirped, jumping up with a brilliant smile. "I'm so excited! It's such an honor to be part of your wedding prep!" Part of it? "Isabella has a great eye for fashion. She wanted to help you choose," Dante explained. "And Marco's here to give the man's opinion." A sales associate led me to the VIP section. The walls were lined with gowns, each one costing a fortune. I pointed to a simple, elegant lace dress. "That one." "Oh, that's gorgeous!" Isabella immediately walked over to it. "Let me try it on first, just so I can see how it looks and give you some advice." Before I could answer, she had already signaled for the associate to take it down. Twenty minutes later, Isabella emerged from the fitting room in the dress I had chosen. The white lace clung to her body perfectly. She looked like a fairy-tale princess. "What do you think?" she asked, twirling so the skirt flared out. "Stunning," Dante said, his eyes shining with a light I hadn't seen in a long time. My stomach turned. The next two hours were a nightmare. Every dress I picked, Isabella had to "try it on for me to see the effect." She paraded in front of Dante in every single one of my choices, and he showered her with compliments. Worse, Isabella started asking Dante to come into the fitting room to "help with the zipper." Through the crack in the door, I saw her press her half-naked back against him, his hand lingering on her skin for far too long. I touched my chest. The spot that used to ache for Dante felt nothing now. Only disgust. "Rose, aren't you going to try anything?" Isabella asked, emerging for the fifth time, now in a classic, regal gown. "I..." "Of course you are," Dante finally remembered I was there. "Go on. That one would suit you." But it was another one of Isabella's hand-me-downs. I went into the fitting room. An assistant helped me into the gown. In the mirror, my pale, exhausted face was a stark contrast to the magnificent dress. When I pushed the door open, the showroom was empty. "The gentleman and ladies went upstairs to look at jewelry," the associate explained awkwardly. "They told me to tell you to just pick whichever one you like. The bill has been settled." I stood alone in the empty showroom, wearing a hundred-thousand-dollar wedding dress, feeling colder than I ever had in my life. They'd left me. Like a tool that was no longer needed. I went home alone. It wasn't until late that night that Dante returned, holding a fancy jewelry box. "Sorry, I had an important call." He sat next to me and opened the box. "This is to make it up to you." Inside was a diamond ring, at least three carats, sparkling brilliantly. But with my part-time experience at a jewelry store, I could tell at a glance it was a fake. A good one, maybe, but still just a fifty-dollar piece of cubic zirconia. "Okay," I said calmly, holding out my hand for him to put it on me. "I do." Three more days, I counted silently in my head. Then I can escape this man, this whole nightmare. He froze for a second, clearly not used to me being so compliant. In the past, I would have pouted or acted upset when he neglected me for work. This time, I was abnormally obedient. "You're really not mad?" I put on a perfect, mask-like smile. "I'm about to become part of the Blackwood family. Of course, I have to understand." Dante smiled, satisfied. He kissed the back of my hand. "I knew you'd understand. Isabella's a good girl, she just wanted to help. I'm sure you'll grow to like her." "I understand," I nodded, my expression docile. He talked more about the wedding plans, but I didn't hear a word. My heart was already dead, as lifeless as it had been during those two days in the basement. At 11:30, I was drifting off to sleep when I heard the bedroom door open. The footsteps were light, heavy with the smell of alcohol. I kept my eyes closed, pretending to be asleep. The mattress dipped, and a warm body pressed against mine. "Rose..." a deep voice whispered in my ear, his hand starting to unbutton my pajamas. But it wasn't Dante's voice. I snapped my eyes open. Moonlight streamed through a gap in the curtains, illuminating the face of the man on top of me. Marco. Chapter 5 I shoved Marco off me with all my strength and ran to the bathroom, dry-heaving over the toilet. Marco, still playing his part, sounded annoyed. "What's wrong? Still mad? Rose, I didn't realize you were such a brat." I had no energy to respond, just knelt there, my stomach churning. "You're no fun," I heard him mutter. Then, he was on the phone. "Bro, Rose just started throwing up. You think she could be pregnant?" I collapsed onto the cold tile floor. "Pregnant?" I heard Isabella's sickly-sweet voice on the other end. "Marco, don't you think this is a bit much? Rose will be so hurt if she finds out." Dante's voice was gentle, and I could almost picture him holding her. "You don't need to worry about her. If she really is pregnant..." The line went quiet for a few seconds. "If she's pregnant," Dante's voice came back, cold as ice, "then clean it up. I don't need any loose ends. Neither do you, right, Marco?" For some reason, Marco hesitated. "Yeah... of course. I don't want her kid." The call ended. I knelt on the bathroom floor, my hand on my flat stomach, tears streaming silently down my face. Fine. This just made it easier to get rid of a child nobody wanted. The next morning, I went to the hospital alone. The procedure was quick. The doctor said I was lucky; it was early, so the physical damage was minimal. But I knew the real damage wasn't to my body. It was to the part of my heart that was now completely dead. I only rested for half a day before Dante announced he was taking me to a dinner party—to make up for the last "unpleasant" gathering. When I said I wasn't feeling well and wanted to rest, Dante just stared at me coldly. "Rose, don't be difficult." So I nodded. At 7 PM, I was in a private room at The Ritz-Carlton. The three of them were already there, laughing and talking. "Rose! You're here!" Isabella stood to hug me. "You look so much better today." "Thanks for your concern," I said, sitting next to Dante. He didn't even look at me. The entire dinner felt like a well-rehearsed play. Isabella constantly showed off how well she knew the brothers—she knew what Dante liked to eat, the details of Marco's work, even stories from their childhood. I was an outsider, sitting there silently, listening to her perfectly insert herself into their family. "Oh, Rose," Isabella said, handing me a glass of juice. "I haven't congratulated you yet. You're about to marry Dante and become part of the Blackwood family. I truly hope you two will be happy together." Her smile was flawless, but I saw the familiar flash of malice in her eyes. I took the juice. The first sip told me something was wrong—it had mango in it. I'm allergic to mangoes. Soon, red hives broke out all over my body, and it became hard to breathe. Thankfully, I always carried an EpiPen. But just as I was about to use it, Isabella clutched her chest, her face turning pale. "I... I don't feel so good..." She staggered to her feet, then collapsed onto the floor. Chapter 6 "Isabella!" Dante immediately knelt by her side. "Help... me..." I held out a shaking hand, trying to get Dante to give me the injection. But he didn't even glance at me. He snatched the EpiPen from my hand. "Isabella, hang on!" He jabbed the needle into her arm without a second thought. "Marco, quick! Get Isabella to the hospital!" Dante scooped her up. "Call an ambulance!" "What about Rose?" Marco hesitated, glancing at me. I was slumped in my chair, my lips turning blue. Dante didn't even answer him. He just ran out. After a moment's pause, Marco chased after them. They were gone. I was alone in the room, my consciousness fading. I could feel my heart slowing, my breathing getting shallower. "Miss? Miss!" It was a waiter's voice. "Oh my god, call an ambulance!" I slipped into darkness. When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed with an oxygen tube in my nose. "You're awake," the doctor said, walking over. "You're very lucky. Ten more minutes and it could have been fatal." I managed a weak, bitter smile. It wasn't luck. Dante had stolen my medicine. It was attempted murder. And Isabella wasn't allergic. She just wanted me to know that between the two of us, Dante would always choose her. "Rose." Dante's voice came from the doorway. "You're awake." I turned my head. He stood there, impeccably dressed. Maybe my near-death state had stirred a shred of guilt in him, because his face held a hint of remorse. He walked to my bedside but wouldn't meet my eyes. "I'm glad you're okay... about tonight, you have to understand. Isabella's family, the Rossis, are important partners. For the sake of the family, she couldn't be put at risk." "Is that so?" I stared at him, searching for any sign of a lie. "Or is it because you have... special feelings for her?" His face stiffened, then he seemed to remember his mission. His tone turned dismissive and mocking. "I knew you were still jealous. Isabella and I grew up together. If I wanted her, why would I be with you?" I knew what he was thinking. He was reminding himself of his goal—to punish the gold-digging woman who’d angered his precious Isabella. For a second, I wanted to tell him everything—the bullying, the lies. But we had been together for three years. If he had ever truly known me, ever truly cared for me, he wouldn't have conspired with his own brother to deceive me. So I closed my eyes and said nothing. Dante paused. "Get some rest. The wedding is in two days." He still had no idea that the bride wouldn't be showing up. After he left, my phone buzzed. A video from Isabella. What I saw made my hands tremble, a sharp pain twisting in my gut. The video showed a man standing over my grandmother's hospital bed. He was holding up photos—pictures of me being bullied, the humiliating moments I’d tried so hard to bury. One by one, he shoved them in her face. I recognized the crest on his jacket. He was one of Isabella’s men. My grandmother, who had always loved me so fiercely… tears were streaming down her face. She was shaking so badly from the grief, she couldn't even form words. Already so frail, the color drained from her face. The heart monitor beside her started screaming, a flat, piercing wail. And the man? He just turned and walked away, completely unfazed. Then came a text from Isabella. “Such a shame, Rose. I was just trying to do a good thing, telling your grandma what you went through. Who knew she'd get so worked up and just… die?” “Oh, and by the way, this was your grandmother’s ring, wasn’t it? It looks great on me. The wedding’s in two days. I’m planning on wearing it. As your bridesmaid, you won’t mind, will you?” The message came with a picture: Isabella, smiling for the camera, wearing my grandmother's ring on her finger. It was one of the few things I had left of her. I’d been looking for it for weeks. And that thief, Isabella, had it the whole time. No. She wasn't just a thief. She was a murderer. Chapter 7 I forced my still-recovering body out of bed and stormed to Isabella’s hospital room. The door was unlocked. I burst in. Isabella was standing by the window, holding my grandmother's locket ring, dangling it in the sunlight. “Isabella, you murderer—” A fire of pure hatred burned in my chest, so hot it hurt to breathe. I pictured my grandmother's face in her final moments, her eyes filled with tears. It all made sense now—why she had insisted on seeing Dante. She knew the hell I'd been through, and she was desperate for someone to protect me. But her last wish never came true. Isabella's voice echoed in my head, taunting me. "So call the cops. Who do you think they'll believe?" She was right. It was just like before, when she bullied me. No one would listen. "Give it back," I gasped, out of breath. "That's the only thing my grandmother left me." "Oh, you mean this?" She held the ring up high, out the window. "It's a beautiful antique. But I think it suits someone like me better." My heart hammered against my ribs. "Isabella, I'm warning you one last time. Give me back the ring." "Give it back?" She smiled brightly, dangling it further out the window. "Then get on your knees and beg me. Like a dog. Maybe then I'll consider it." "In your dreams." "Not kneeling, huh?" Isabella's fingers suddenly went limp. "Well then, what if I were to have a little... accident?" I watched in horror as my grandmother's ring fell from the high-rise window, tracing an arc through the air before disappearing from sight. "NO!" I lunged toward the window, trying to catch something, anything, but it was too late. In that instant, Isabella grabbed my arm as it reached out the window. Then, as Dante and Marco burst through the door, she let out a piercing scream. "HELP! ROSE IS TRYING TO PUSH ME OUT THE WINDOW! SHE'S GONE CRAZY! SHE'S TRYING TO KILL ME!" "What?!" Dante's face turned to stone as he charged over. "I didn't!" I struggled against Isabella's grip. "She threw my ring out the window! She's framing me!" "Shut up!" Dante yanked me away from the window, his eyes blazing with fury. "Are you insane? We're on the tenth floor! You were trying to kill her?" "I really didn't push her! She provoked me, she deliberately—" SLAP! A sharp, stinging slap landed across my face, cutting off my words. My cheek burned, and I could taste blood. "Enough!" Dante's eyes were full of rage. "You're so jealous you'd resort to murder?" "Dante, I was so scared..." Isabella sobbed, burying herself in his arms. "She was really trying to push me. If you'd come a second later, I would have..." "Rose, you've disappointed me more than I can say." Marco's voice was cold with disgust. "I thought you had some basic morals." "I didn't! I really didn't push her!" I screamed, trying to make them see the truth. "She used my grandmother's ring to threaten me! She let it go on purpose!" But no one believed me. "Get her out of here," Dante ordered Marco, his voice like ice. "Don't let her near Isabella again." "No, you have to listen to me—" Before I could fight back, Dante and Marco grabbed my arms and began dragging me out of the room. I thrashed and struggled, but they were too strong. As they hauled me through the doorway, I locked eyes with Isabella. She was smiling at me, a triumphant, venomous smirk that belonged on a snake. She mouthed one silent word at me: Idiot. Chapter 8 They didn't take me home. They dragged me to a nondescript building on the outskirts of the city. A heavy steel door opened into an underground casino. The air was thick with smoke, sweat, blood, and despair. "Welcome to the real world of the Blackwood family," Dante said, shoving me forward. In a corner of the casino, a few gamblers who couldn't pay their debts were being beaten by enforcers. The sound of bones snapping was sickeningly clear, blood spattering on the walls as the men screamed. I felt a wave of nausea and covered my mouth, gagging. "What's wrong? Scared?" Marco laughed mockingly. "This is just another Tuesday for the mob, Rose. If you can't handle this, what makes you think you can be a Blackwood?" "I..." I tried to turn and leave, but the two of them blocked my path. "You're staying here until morning," Dante said, his voice devoid of any warmth. "This is your punishment for trying to hurt Isabella. And it's a lesson in what real cruelty looks like." "No! The sight of blood... I can't handle it, I'll pass out!" I shook my head, my voice choked with panic. "Then pass out," Marco shrugged. "Pass out, wake up, pass out again. You'll get used to it." They ignored my trauma, my history of being bullied, my physical state. In that place, filled with violence and blood, I fainted again and again, only to be jolted awake by a splash of ice water. Every time I fell, someone would kick me or douse me with water, forcing me to stay conscious. I spent the entire night in that cycle of passing out and being violently woken up. The hatred I felt for those two men grew inside me, a poison spreading through my veins. By dawn, I was too weak to even stand. "Can you do me a favor?" I managed to grab one of Dante's men. "Go to the hospital... look for my grandmother's ring. It might be on the ground below..." The man looked at me with a flicker of pity, but quickly shook his head. "Sorry, Miss Rose. I can't go against the boss's orders, and I can't afford to get on Miss Isabella's bad side." Everyone refused to help me. I had to drag my exhausted, broken body out of the casino and walk toward the hospital. Every step was agony, but I had to find that ring. When I finally reached the hospital, breathless, the janitors were already cleaning up. "Excuse me," I asked one of them. "Did you see a small object fall from one of the upper floors yesterday? It was an old-fashioned ring..." The janitor paused, then looked at me apologetically. "Miss, last night's trash was already taken to the landfill. By now, it's probably..." My world collapsed. The only memento my grandmother had left me was gone. Chapter 9 I spent the entire day at the city dump. My hands were cut and scraped, my nails were caked with filth, and my clothes were soaked in foul-smelling garbage juice. The workers stared at me like I was insane—a woman frantically digging through a mountain of trash. At dusk, I finally found it, buried in a pile of rotting food. But the picture of my grandmother was gone. I opened the locket ring with trembling hands. The tiny photograph that had been inside was missing. It was the only color photo of her as a young woman, my last anchor in this world. It felt like a knife had been twisted in my heart. I knelt in the garbage, sobbing in despair. I ran back to the hospital like a madwoman. Isabella was just being discharged. When she saw me, filthy and reeking, a triumphant smirk crossed her lips. The nurses around us stared—a woman who smelled like a landfill. "Find your ring?" she asked loudly, drawing more attention. "About that picture, though..." "What did you do with the picture?" I lunged at her, grabbing her shoulders. "Tore it up. Flushed it down the toilet," she said nonchalantly, as if discussing the weather. "Last night. Tore it into tiny, tiny pieces. I guarantee you'll never find it. Looking at that old hag's face was disgusting anyway." My sanity snapped. SLAP! I hit her with every ounce of strength I had left. Isabella staggered back, a bright red handprint blooming on her perfect cheek. "Rose!" Dante's voice, full of shock and fury, echoed down the hall. "What are you doing?!" He stormed over and shoved me so hard I nearly fell. He rushed to Isabella's side, gently stroking her face. "How can you be so vicious?!" Dante glared at me, his eyes filled with disgust and disappointment. "Isabella is still recovering! Are you trying to kill her? My God, what have you become?" Vicious? He was calling me vicious? Watching Dante fuss over Isabella, seeing the judgmental stares of the people around us, and catching the victorious glint in Isabella's eyes, I started to laugh. "Dante, that's enough," I said, my voice unnervingly calm. "You have no idea what real viciousness is. But you're about to find out." I turned and walked away, my fingers clenched around the recovered ring. The photo was gone forever, but I had made my decision. If Isabella wanted to play games, to destroy me piece by piece, then I would play. I would make everyone see her for what she was—a vicious high-school bully. I would make her feel what it's like to be despised, to be condemned. I would show her what true viciousness looked like. Back in my car, I dialed my colleague, Sarah. She was an investigative reporter who specialized in exposing the dark underbelly of society. "Sarah, I need a favor. Can you help me find some people...?" My voice was choked with tears, but my words were firm. There was a pause on the other end. "Rose, are you sure about this? The Blackwood and Rossi families are not people you want to cross." "I'm sure," I said, gripping the steering wheel. "Compared to what she did to me, this is nothing." Tomorrow, at my wedding, the game would reach its climax. Chapter 10 (Dante's POV) The wedding day was bright and sunny. The Blackwood family's private estate was a fairy-tale scene of white roses and crystal chandeliers. The guests, Chicago's elite, were all waiting for the wedding of the century. Dante stood at the altar in a custom tuxedo, handsome and imposing. Marco was beside him as his best man, occasionally glancing toward the entrance. "When is the bride arriving?" a guest whispered. "Should be any minute," Dante replied, though a flicker of unease crossed his face. Just then, a professional media crew appeared at the gates. Cameramen, a host with a microphone—it looked like a live broadcast. "What the hell is this?" Dante frowned. Security stopped them, but the lead producer held up a document. "We were invited by Miss Rose herself to cover the wedding live. She said it was a special surprise." Dante looked uneasy. He had planned to "punish" Rose, but live-streaming the wedding... that was something else entirely. It could ruin her life. He was about to step in, but Isabella stopped him with a smile. "Rose must have her reasons for this. We should respect her wishes, don't you think?" Isabella was thrilled. She couldn't wait for the whole world to see Rose fall apart. Dante hesitated, then figured she had a point. Besides, he'd make it up to Rose. He'd give her enough money to live comfortably for the rest of her life. The crew quickly set up cameras around the venue, including a massive LED screen in front of the main table. "For a slideshow of the happy couple," the producer explained. The minutes ticked by. The scheduled start time came and went, but Rose was nowhere to be seen. Dante pulled out his phone and called her. Voicemail. He tried again. Same thing. "What is she playing at?" Marco muttered. Guests began to whisper. The atmosphere grew awkward. "Maybe the bride had an emergency," Isabella said, feigning concern. She was actually thrilled. In her mind, Rose was too broken to show up. Being jilted at the altar in front of everyone would make Dante hate Rose forever. After another ten minutes, just as everyone's patience was wearing thin, the large screen flickered to life. At first, the guests quieted down, expecting a romantic video. But the first voice that came through the speakers made Dante and Marco's blood run cold. "Rose? She's so dumb it's almost cute. She still thinks the man holding her every night is me." The entire venue fell silent. Guests exchanged shocked and confused glances. Don Blackwood's face was as dark as a thundercloud. "Goddamn it..." Dante hissed, trying to get to the control booth, but a few large men who looked like security blocked his path. The recording continued, playing every vicious word from their conversation at the club. The guests' expressions shifted from confusion to shock, then to disgust. Some of the women were already whispering, casting contemptuous looks at the three of them at the altar. "Oh my god, so that's what happened..." "That's just cruel..." "They played that poor girl for a fool..." But that was only the beginning. After the recording, a video began to play. The first shot was of St. Mary's Academy. Then, the camera focused on a hallway. Isabella appeared on screen, looking younger but with a cruel smirk on her face. She and a few other girls were cornering a thin, scared-looking teenage Rose. "Look at the charity case, can't even afford lunch," the younger Isabella sneered. "And you want to compete with me for prom queen? In your dreams!" The next scene made the entire room gasp. Isabella slapped Rose across the face. "Remember your place, you trash from the slums!" Video after video played, showing Isabella locking Rose in a bathroom, cutting her hair, putting thumbtacks on her chair, spitting in her water... each clip a testament to her cruelty. The guests were stunned. "How is this possible...?" someone whispered. "I thought Isabella was known for her charity work." "So this is what she's really like..." The final video showed Isabella looking directly into the hidden camera, her smile vicious and triumphant. "Rose Rivera, you'll never be anything in this life. I'll make you remember that next to me, you are nothing!" The video froze on her twisted face. The hall was dead silent. Dante stood frozen at the altar, his fists clenched, veins popping in his neck. He finally understood. He'd been played, manipulated by this woman's perfect facade. Marco's face was sheet-white. He realized the colossal mistake they had made. And Isabella, the woman who had always been so perfectly composed, was now completely exposed. Her face flushed and paled. Any denial would be useless against the mountain of evidence. The trap they had laid for Rose had just snapped shut on them.