Chapter 1
VAL
NOW
Marco Moscatelli’s voice carried up to my son’s bedroom from the foyer, sending a chill down my spine.
“Open the fucking door, Vignali. Give us the girl.”
My brother’s voice hadn’t changed much over the years, his low timbre and thick Chicago accent still crystal clear.
It took Marco only one day to track me down after the press ran Stefano’s engagement announcement.
It wouldn’t be easy to get away now, but I had to try.
For Enzo’s sake. For Stefano’s.
My father would kill them both.
Stefano had me caged in his arms, my back pressed against the wall. Fear paralyzed me, making it easier for him to hold me there, fully under his control.
The hurt in his eyes sent a shock wave of pain through my chest. I wanted to rip my heart out.
But I had to hurt him, so my boys could live.
I pulled his mouth to mine and kissed him.
The taste of whiskey and sweet citrus from his beloved old fashioned still lingered on his lips.
His addictive scent and the heat radiating from his body pressing against mine paralyzed me further. So safe. So warm. I didn’t want to let go. I could hardly pull away from his mouth.
Could he take on my family and keep us alive?
I wanted nothing more than that, but the price of finding out if he could take on my father was too high to risk.
No. We couldn’t take that chance with our son’s life.
“I’m so sorry, Ace,” I whispered.
His dark eyes narrowed in confusion, he tilted his head, and his grip on my chin softened.
“I’ll take care of you, Angel. Whatever you’ve done, I don’t care. I’ll make it go away—whatever it takes.”
His words broke me. I closed my eyes for a moment.
There was no other option. Enzo and I had to leave.
So, like the lying snake of a bitch I’d become, I used Stefano’s tenderness to duck beneath his arm and sprint down the hall to my room.
Stefano had moved our son’s room farther from mine.
I slammed the door and locked it before he caught me. Just as expected, he pounded on it and threatened to break it down.
“Val, goddamn it, open this door right fucking now or I’ll tear the motherfucker apart!”
He would. That much I knew. I had to hurry.
After I quickly pulled on jeans and a sweater, I slung my emergency escape bag over my shoulder and opened the door. I brushed past him, catching him off guard, ducking beneath his arm before he could grab either of mine.
I avoided the gallery overlooking the foyer, making sure Marco couldn’t see me.
Trying to avoid Marco was stupid as fuck, though. I couldn’t hide anymore, not now that he’d come for me. Not even in this massive house.
Once he saw me, it would be over.
An icy chill rushed through me.
My brother wouldn’t leave without me, even if he had to kill my boys and search the house himself. The fact that he dared to show up in New York meant my father knew everything, and there wouldn’t be a single rock left unturned until they had me back.
Glancing over my shoulder, I caught a glimpse of Marco glaring up at the staircase. Still as beautiful as ever, though the roundness of his youthful cheeks had gone, and time had hardened his eyes.
A decade under our father, serving as the Moscatelli underboss, had changed him in all the ways this life of ours reshapes a first-born son.
In that moment, seeing what Marco had become, I had no doubt about what lay ahead. My time pretending to live freely outside of my family had come to a screeching halt.
I had faked my death, lived for so long under an assumed identity, and still, fate let them find me.
Fate was a cruel bitch.
I’d always belonged to a monster, one or the other, but always a monster.
Blood rushed to my cheeks.
I gnashed my teeth.
All his fault. Stefano, the arrogant, impatient prick.
My father found me because Stefano led them to me. He had that fucking announcement published without even talking to me, telling the whole world he planned to marry me.
Me, Valerie Salera, or so he thought. A woman he would’ve known didn’t exist if he had bothered to run a proper, mafia-style background check.
Of course I knew what he would say.
I should be thankful he gave me a hall pass—and not because he trusted me but because wanted to trust in my innocence.
Innocence I faked.
Damn him. He had the resources to find out anything. He was so much smarter than that. If he’d checked into me, he never would’ve made that public declaration.
So yeah. It was all his stupid fucking preventable fault.
Stefano caught my arm from behind and stopped me.
He stared at me for a minute without saying a word. His mouth flattened into a hard line, and his frown deepened, but before he could say a word, I yanked away and headed for Enzo’s room.
A vicious growl rumbled from deep inside his chest.
Mother of Christ—why had I thought marrying a man as dangerous, volatile, and self-centered as my father was a good idea?
Because I loved him.
Because he lit my body on fire and soothed my soul with nothing more than a sweep of his dark eyes.
I just… I fucking loved this man.
If we survived, I would kill him. And he would finally meet Valentina Moscatelli—the real one. After that he would never mistake me for an innocent little girl again.
But first, we had to survive.
Stefano stalked after me, caught my arm in his bruising grip and yanked me back against his body.
“You’re going to stop running and tell me what the fuck’s going on. Who the hell is brave enough to pound on my fucking door like that, Val?”
My heart dropped into my stomach with a heavy thud.
My legs quivered and nearly gave way.
I shook my head, keeping my voice level and low. I didn’t want him to know how deep my fear ran.
And I didn’t want Marco to hear me either.
“I need you to go downstairs and make him leave,” I whispered. “When he’s gone, I’ll explain everything. I swear. Just please—make him leave.”
Stefano shoved me into a bathroom and closed us in.
“Give me a name, Val. What the hell did you bring into my house?”
I jabbed him in the chest.
So very stupidly, I poked the bear.
“I didn’t bring anything. I didn’t come here willingly. You forced me, and without doing your homework. God, Stefano, I hid your son from you. Did you ever stop to ask what else I might be hiding? How could you be so careless? Your carelessness brought this down on us.”
He slammed me against the wall. My back hit the plaster, and I lost my breath. He held me there with his hands on my throat. No blue irises—just darkness. He clenched and relaxed his jaw. Clenched. Relaxed. Clenched.
“I know why you hid my son from me,” he snarled.
He did, but he was only partially right.
He had no idea about the horrors I’d lived through. Even at his worst, a monster in his own right, Stefano didn’t scare me like the one haunting my nightmares. Even the psycho teacher who shot and tortured me didn’t top the list of my worst miseries.
I didn’t have time to explain any of it.
I had to get away from him. I clung to one of my nonna’s old pieces of advice, leaning into it so hard I almost fell over.
Men need to be heroes. It’s our job to make them believe it.
The idea struck me as wrong or maybe just outdated. But I had to do something. What else could I do? I pressed my palms to his chest and dipped my chin as much as I could with his hands still around my throat.
Gazing up at him from beneath my lashes, I waited just a second, hoping his eyes might soften, hoping he might listen. Maybe even hear me out.
“If you love me, Ace,” I rasped, “you’ll make him leave.”
He shook his head, eyes narrowing, the crease between his brows deepening until it nearly folded inward. Then he dropped his hands from my throat. Still pinning me to the wall with his body, he let out a dark chuckle.
It vibrated in his throat.
“You really think you can manipulate me that easily, Valerie? I thought you were smarter than that. Now, who the fuck is at my door, and why do you think he’s here for you?”
Well, damn. I should have known better.
I nodded. “His name doesn’t matter. He’s my past. You’re my future.”
Not technically a lie, but not an accurate picture either.
I hated implying there’d been something romantic between Marco and me. But if a little misunderstanding made Stefano jealous enough to get rid of him, I could fix it later. If it kept our son safe, I wouldn’t correct Stefano’s assumptions.
In any case, Marco wouldn’t leave empty handed. So if he and Stefano fought over it before the truth came out, maybe I could grab my son and get him out the back door.
Enzo and I would have to run for our lives, this time finding underground help. Still, it beat dying.
Guilt knifed through my stomach, stealing the breath from my lungs. I didn’t want to take Enzo from Stefano.
More importantly, I didn’t want Enzo to lose Stefano.
My child had his father now. He had his father’s strength. And Stefano was the one who had to teach him how to wield it—like a man, not a child.
Stefano gripped my arms hard as a wave of emotions crossed over his handsome face. He seemed to recognize exactly where my thoughts had strayed.
He relented with a low growl.
“Fine. I’ll get rid of him. Can’t guarantee he’ll walk away. But first, you promise not to leave.”
I shook my head, pretending I’d changed my mind. I had to get him downstairs before Marco came up.
“I won’t leave without you,” I lied.
Stefano scoffed. “We both know you’re a liar, Valerie.
You would absolutely take my son and leave if it suited your purpose.
Before I deal with whatever this shit is you’ve drudged up, you’ll promise to wait here—and our son will remain in his room.
You will not run away from me like a coward again. ”
I stood there frozen, disarmed by him calling me a coward.
He shook me, his eyes narrowed like dangerous slits.
“You give me your goddamn word,” he said.
“Don’t call me a coward,” I hissed. “You have no idea what awful shit I’ve had to run away from to stay alive. Please—just make him leave.”