Chapter 1

Three years after separating from Marco DeLuca, I saw him again—at the DeLuca family's annual gala.

The security at the entrance was just about to scan my invitation when Marco walked in. Their tone changed immediately, warm and deferential.

“Mr. DeLuca! You made it.”

He offered a faint nod, his gaze settling on me.

“She’s with me,” he said.

I smiled politely and declined.

“I have my own invite.”

I slipped the card from my clutch and held it up. He looked down at it, silent for a moment.

“Elara… after all these years, you’re still mad at me.”

I smiled again, this time colder.

“I’m not mad anymore.”

“I came tonight to support my fiancé. He’s receiving an award.”

His eyes turned red in an instant. He stared at me, unblinking.

Looking at him like that, I felt nothing but irony. Almost amusement.

Three years ago, during a vault-cracking assignment, I was badly injured. Part of the nerves in my hand had to be removed to save my life. I could no longer carry out high-precision infiltration missions.

I was weak, skeletal from the pain. Marco stayed by my side constantly, nursing me back.

Until I heard that a legendary European locksmith was consulting in the city. I rushed to meet him for advice.

After reviewing my mission logs, he frowned.

“Mrs. DeLuca, the vault you were assigned to crack—this so-called ‘high-risk model’—was actually a standard commercial unit.”

“Your lockpicking skills are among the best in the industry. Frankly, your repeated errors during those simulations don’t make sense.”

He tapped a name on the assignment roster, his tone meaningful. “I suggest you get a new mission planner.”

I followed his finger. The name Isabella stood out.

The DeLuca family's adopted daughter. Marco's foster sister. She had been in charge of assigning my missions for years—under Marco’s orders.

My vision darkened. I stumbled out of Chicago and went straight to the DeLuca operations command center.

At the doorway, I overheard a conversation between Isabella and one of Marco’s lieutenants.

“Elara’s body is already pushed to the limit. Miss Isabella’s new version of the security system has been tampered with—it’s rigged to shock her during the breach. High chance she’ll be seriously injured. Should we still go through with it?”

Marco sighed, but there was a softness in his eyes.

“Isabella must’ve gotten jealous again… she saw me helping Elara with her rehab.”

He paused, then nodded. “Go ahead. If she gets hurt, I’ll bring in top doctors. It’s not a big deal.”

Another pause, and then he added, almost reluctantly, “I love Elara. I’d never let her get truly hurt.”

“But Isabella’s waited for me since she was ten, always saying she’d marry me. I promised her. Then I met Elara, and I fell hard. I made Isabella wait all these years. I owe her.”

“As long as she forgives me, I’ll go along with whatever mission she assigns.”

His words cut into me like a dull blade, again and again, until every last shred of hope was gone.

All this time, I thought I was just unlucky. That my injuries were coincidental. That I was dragging Marco down, being a burden to Isabella.

But it had all been deliberate.

I shoved the door open. The moment our eyes met, the weight of it all crashed down. My voice trembled.

“Why?”

Marco froze, then quickly composed himself.

“Elara, you shouldn’t have been eavesdropping. It won’t help your recovery.”

“And the doctors I hired are the best. Trust me, you’ll be okay.”

I could barely believe what I was hearing.

I was covered in injuries. My nerves damaged from mission after mission that should have never gone that way. My arms scarred permanently. And he called that okay?

I whispered, “I can’t keep doing this… I need to step back. If I keep going, I’m going to die.”

I turned to leave, but his men blocked my path.

“Don’t make a scene. Everyone knows Isabella handles your mission planning. If you suddenly switch, she’ll be humiliated in front of the whole family.”

“And those mission logs you’re holding—if those get out, Isabella’s position is gone.”

They lunged for the documents. I fought back with everything I had.

No matter what I said, Marco stood unmoved. He checked his watch, then gave his men a nod to hurry up.

When I refused to let go, one of them began prying my fingers off the file, one by one.

The sound of bones cracking filled the room, blending with my screams.

Marco took the records and fed them into the shredder.

When they were done, the others left. The family doctor came in to clean my wounds and reattach my dislocated fingers.

I spent a few days recovering in a daze.

Then came a new mission order.

I thought of the conversation I’d overheard. I refused it instinctively. Marco issued a direct command to force my compliance.

The security system had been triggered early. A surge of electricity slammed into me. I flew backward, my left arm severely burned.

After half a day of emergency care and a night in the family’s private clinic, I woke up with another scar on my arm.

It wasn’t large, but it carved itself into my soul.

Eyes closed, I dialed Marco’s father.

“Don Vincent,” I rasped. My voice was hoarse from pain, but steady.

“I accept your offer…”

“I’ll leave Marco. For good.”

The old godfather sounded thrilled. “Excellent. Once you’re gone, Marco will finally come back to the family business—the legal side. He’ll stop chasing street shadows. Settle down. Marry someone who brings him peace.”

“I’ll send the divorce papers immediately. You’ll be out of the country in a month.”

The papers arrived not long after.

I signed without a second thought.