He Cheated, So I Proposed to the Don

For five years, Marco Falcone was the perfect man. Or so I thought.

The illusion shattered on the night of our engagement party, when his mistress crashed it, a five-year-old boy in tow.

The boy ran straight to Marco, crying, "Daddy! Daddy, I finally found you!"

It had to be some kind of sick joke.

But then Marco turned to me, his voice stripped of all warmth. "This is my son, Leo. A… mistake Sofia and I made five years ago."

"Leo is the Falcone heir. I have to legitimize them. That means I'll be engaged to Sofia first."

"But Lydia, believe me, I still love you. We can have our engagement party in six months. You're going to be the Donna of the Falcone family. I expect you to be generous and understanding. This is non-negotiable."

I laughed, a cold, sharp sound, and slid the engagement ring off my finger.

My eyes scanned the room and locked on the man in the corner—Lorenzo Moretti, the most powerful Don in New York.

He held another title, one only I knew: the man who’d been trying to make me his.

"Don Moretti," I called out, my voice clear and steady. "I find myself in need of a new fiancé. Are you interested?"

The kind, gentle man I loved revealed his true colors when his mistress and their five-year-old son crashed our engagement party. He told me to step aside. In an instant, I was no longer his fiancée, but the other woman.

Warm light from crystal chandeliers glittered across the room. Champagne flutes sparkled on silver trays.

My fingers traced the facets of the diamond on my engagement ring.

This was my engagement party to Marco Falcone. I was supposed to be ecstatic.

"Lydia, you seem tense." Marco’s hand settled on my waist, his voice that familiar, gentle caress.

"Just excited." I turned, offering him a smile. "After tonight, we're official."

Marco's smile faltered. "Lydia, there's something I need to..."

CRASH!

The grand doors of the ballroom were thrown open. The lively chatter died. A disheveled woman with wild blonde hair burst in, a desperate look on her face.

More shocking was the little boy trailing her—a miniature of Marco.

The moment he spotted Marco, the boy tore away from the woman and ran straight for us.

"Daddy! Daddy, I finally found you!"

A hush fell over the hall. It was so quiet you could hear a heartbeat.

My first thought: this is a twisted joke. My hand twitched, ready to signal security to have them thrown out.

But then I saw the blood drain from Marco's face.

"Leo? What are you—Sofia, why the hell did you bring him here?" Marco's voice was a raw mix of shock and fury.

Sofia? I looked at the woman. She was staring at me with unconcealed triumph. "I'm tired of waiting, Marco. Five years. I'm done hiding in the shadows."

"What five years?" My own voice sounded terrifyingly calm, but I could feel the