He Wore My Ring on Her Skin

My fiancé, Dominic, heir to the Carvalho crime family, vanished for four days. I thought a rival family had put a bullet in his head.

Then I saw his ex’s Instagram story.

A shot of them in bed. The caption: He still knows every inch of me.

His face was hidden, but his hand wasn't. And on it, the ring I gave him, resting on her skin.

That night, Dominic came home. He brought me white roses, my favorite.

I asked him why. Why he'd lie. Why he'd sleep with her. He brushed it off. Just a "misunderstanding."

I was done. I threw the ring in his face. Burned the wedding dress. Told him we were over.

He thought I was just throwing a fit.

He didn't get it. Not until he realized I was walking away for good.

Then he panicked. Begged me to come back.

My fiancé, Dominic Carvalho, heir to Chicago's most notorious crime family, was a ghost for four days. I found him not in a ditch, but on Instagram, tangled in the sheets of a Peninsula suite with his ex. Both of them covered in hickies.

So I burned my hundred-thousand-dollar wedding dress, called off the engagement, and told him to get the hell out of my life.

For four days, Dominic, who usually smothered me with attention, was a ghost.

My calls went to voicemail, my texts were left unread.

I was sick with worry, convinced he’d been snatched by a rival family.

I had my father’s men scouring the city for him.

Then I saw the Instagram story from his ex, Vivienne.

A selfie. A messy bed.

Her bare shoulder. His hand on it. I knew those knuckles anywhere.

On his ring finger was the Cartier LOVE ring—one half of our one-of-a-kind engagement set.

The caption read: "He still remembers every inch of my body. Four days in heaven."

That son of a bitch.

The only thing I heard was the roar of my Lamborghini.

I floored it, heading for the top-floor suite of the Peninsula Hotel, right where Vivienne had tagged her location.

I stormed into the lobby and ran right into her.

She was stepping out of the elevator, hair still damp, lips swollen and red.

The hickey on her neck was so fresh it looked like it was still bleeding. She was dangling a set of keys. Dominic’s Ferrari keys.

Our eyes met.

She didn’t even flinch. A slow, triumphant smile spread across her face. "Sienna. Fancy seeing you here."

"Is he upstairs?" My voice was shaking.

"Mhm." She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, her voice a lazy drawl. "He's exhausted, though. Resting. You know how men can be… so wild."

She dragged out the words "exhausted" and "wild." Each one was a bullet to the chest.

"I'm sorry you had to see this," Vivienne said, stepping closer. Her voice was soft, like a snake hissing. "But some things have to end. Dominic's heart never really left