Chapter 1

For three years, I had been Kylan Cosa’s secret mistress, hidden from the light, always waiting for him to give me the title of godmother in his family.

Instead, while he was out handling what he called “family business,” I picked up his phone and discovered that he had just publicly announced an engagement banquet—with another woman.

That was the moment I finally understood.

I had never been the woman he chose to be his godmother.

I was nothing more than a private whore he kept for his own pleasure.

The notification popped up at ten-thirty that night.

Breaking: Alliance Between the Cosa and Morrow Families Officially Confirmed — Godfather to Hold Grand Engagement to Morrow Heiress

I stared at that headline over and over, every word like a bullet driven straight into my chest.

In the photo, he wore a custom black suit, all razor-sharp lines and cold authority, his overbearing godfather aura nearly punching through the screen.

Standing beside him was a blonde woman in a white couture gown—Celeste Morrow, daughter of the Morrow family’s godfather. Her hand rested on his arm, her posture poised and openly possessive.

As if he had always belonged to her.

As if she had already won.

The phone slipped from my hand and landed with a dull thud on the leather sofa.

I kept telling myself it had to be fake.

But the article came from a major society-and-finance outlet, and every comment beneath it was from verified social elites.

In a daze, I slid down onto the floor, my shoulders shaking, laughing so hard I could barely stop—until in the space of a breath, the sound twisted, and my eyes burned red.

That was when I heard the lock turn.

“Ophilia?”

Kylan’s voice cut through the ringing in my ears.

I looked up at him as if I were seeing this man for the first time. Those gray-blue eyes—the same eyes that had made me forget who I was on countless nights—were now slightly furrowed as he studied me.

“Why are you sitting on the floor?” He strode over and bent down, trying to help me up.

I slapped his hand away.

He paused, then tried to give me a coaxing smile.

“What’s wrong? Upset because I came home late? Is my little nightingale angry?”

I looked at him as if I were looking through him, at something much farther away.

He was the most feared godfather on the East Coast, yet in front of me, he could make tenderness look more convincing than anyone else ever could.

“When were you planning to tell me?”

His whole body froze. His gaze dropped to the screen of the phone on the couch. I watched his expression change—not into guilt, not into surprise.

Into resignation.

As if he had been waiting for this moment.

“Ophilia—”

“When, Kylan?” I got to my feet. “When exactly were you planning to tell me you were getting engaged to another woman?”

He walked to the liquor cabinet, poured himself three fingers of whiskey, and knocked it back in one swallow.

“It’s not what you think.”

“Isn’t it?” A sharp, bitter laugh scraped out of my throat. “Because from where I’m standing, my man is getting engaged to another woman and couldn’t even be bothered to tell me in advance.”

“She’s not my woman.” He set the glass down hard. “She’s a contract. An arrangement between two families. She’s just a front, nothing more. Nothing between us changes.”

“An arrangement?” I stared at him in disbelief.

“A strategic alliance. The Morrow ports, their South American network—that’s family politics, Ophilia.”

“No. Of course. How would I know?” My voice came out sharper than I expected. “For the past three years, you’ve kept me completely outside your world. I’ve never met your mother. I’ve never been formally introduced to a single core member of your family. Your men look at me like I’m a ghost.”

“That was to protect you—”

“Don’t.” I lifted one hand. “Don’t feed me that line again.”

His jaw tightened at once—the same expression he wore when one of his lieutenants questioned his authority. Cold. Controlled. Dangerous.

“Celeste brings political capital. An alliance with the Morrow family secures our seat on the council. That’s her value.”

“And what about me?” The question tore itself out of my chest. “What am I?”

Something flickered in his eyes. His voice dropped half a degree.

“You’re mine.”

“But she’s the one you chose to stand in front of all the family heads and receive the godmother’s scepter.”

“In name only.” He stepped toward me, and I stepped back. “It’s just a ceremony, Ophilia. It changes nothing between us.”

“What exactly is there between us, Kylan? Three years—three whole years. You came back whenever you felt like it, and I just kept waiting, hoping, lying to myself that one day, you’d finally make me part of your world.”

“I was protecting you, keeping you out of the blood and violence of my world. That’s different.”

“You’re really going through with the marriage, aren’t you? The legal documents, the church ceremony, the vows in front of the city’s elite and every family head—every last part of it, right?” My voice cracked. “Or is it all just some grand show for the outside world?”

That half-second of silence told me everything.

He dragged a hand through his hair—a rare crack in his perfect control.

“Yes. The contract has to be signed. The altar has to be mounted. Everyone has to see the Cosa-Morrow alliance as unbreakable. But that changes nothing between you and me. You’ll still be the woman I come home to. I’ll give you everything you need.”

“Everything except your wife’s name and the place at your side everyone recognizes.”

“That’s just a piece of paper. A title—”

“It means your world acknowledges me!” My eyes burned, but I refused to let the tears fall. “It means I’m not some mistress you pick up when it suits you and throw away when it doesn’t!”

“Don’t.” His voice dropped, dangerously cold. “Don’t drag what we have down into something that filthy.”

“Why not?” I lifted my chin and looked straight into those gray-blue eyes. “Isn’t that exactly what I am? Your mistress. Your secret in a gilded cage. The pathetic fool waiting in the shadows while you stand beside the woman your family approves of and play the perfect union of power and love.”

His hand shot out and clamped around my wrist. Godfather strength. I couldn’t break free.

“You think this is what I want? You think I want some woman I’ve barely spoken to all my life as my godmother?”

“Then don’t do it.” I grabbed the front of his shirt. “Tell them the woman you chose is me.”

“I don’t have that choice.”

“You’re the godfather. Of course you do.” My voice had started to shake. “You just won’t use that power for me.”

“It’s not that simple—”

“It is that simple.” Three years’ worth of swallowed words came pouring out of me. “If you really loved me, you would have found a way already. But I’m not worth it, am I?”

“That’s not—”

“Then prove it.” I shoved my last bargaining chip into those words. “Take me to the family estate. Tell everyone I’m the woman you’re going to marry.”

The words hung between us like a blade.

Then came half a second of silence.

And somewhere inside me, everything went cold.

“Ophilia...” His thumb slowly stroked over my pulse. “You know I...”

He didn’t finish.

He didn’t need to.

So from the very beginning, I had been the only one dreaming.

I had never been part of his future.

Every hope I had ever held surged back at once and turned into blow after blow against my chest.

How pathetic.

I laughed, but my throat filled with a raw, bitter ache.

I pulled free of him and gave a small nod.

“I understand.”

“Where are you going?”

“To sleep.” I turned toward the bedroom. “I’m tired.”

I shut the door, pressed my back against it, covered my mouth, and cried without a sound.

I suddenly remembered that night on the private island last month, when Kylan had taken me to the top terrace of his estate. In the thick dark, he had wrapped an arm around my waist, nuzzled my neck, and whispered, “One day, right here, I’ll let the whole family witness you becoming the Cosa family’s godmother.”

I had imagined that scene thousands of times—the grand ceremony, his vows, the happiness that would follow.

What I had never imagined was that the woman standing beside him would never be me.

The screen of the phone on my bedside table lit up.

I remembered the message my mother had sent me a week ago. Back then, I had been completely drowned in the beautiful dream I’d built with my own hands, and I never even looked at it.

I wiped my face, grabbed the phone, and opened our chat.

**Baby, there’s someone I want you to meet. He’s the son of an old friend of mine—the young godfather of the Sterling family. He’s excellent. Would you at least be willing to meet him once?**

I stared at the message for a long time.

Then I typed back, one word at a time.

**Mom, do you still have his contact info?**

She replied almost instantly, as if she had been waiting.

**I’ll send it right now. Are you okay, baby?**

I stared at the closed bedroom door and thought about how, for the last three years, I had been waiting for something that was never possible.

Never better. Time to start a new chapter.**