I Married My Sworn Enemy After Being Betrayed

The first time Rafael betrayed me, he threw the woman from his club at my feet. His eyes were bloodshot as he told me to take my pick.

My love for him was a sickness, so I forgave the transgression.

For the second betrayal, I had the dancer sent out of New York, warning her never to set foot on the East Coast again.

On the night of our engagement party, sealing the union of our two families, Rafael pinned me against the walnut desk in the study. His eyes burned with rage as he demanded:

"Where is Nina? She's carrying a Mancini heir."

"It was a mistake. You can take your anger out on me. Nina is naive; she doesn't deserve this. I'm begging you, just let the child be born safely. I swear I'll never see her again."

"You're afraid of childbirth. This gives you an heir without the risk."

"Listen, Alessia. You are the future Donna of the Mancini family. When that child is born, it will know only you as its mother. I swear on my life."

He forced me backward until shards from the vase I'd knocked over cut into my skin, staining my silk dress with blood.

I looked at him and smiled, then gave him the address of a safe house in Brooklyn.

He slammed the heavy oak door behind him. Shaking, I pulled out my encrypted phone.

"You were right about him. Is your offer still on the table?"

The third time my fiancé, Rafael, confronted me over a dancer, she was carrying his heir.

This time, I buried all my love for him. On what should have been our wedding day, still in my gown, I left him at the altar and walked into the church on the arm of his sworn enemy.

Over the phone, the man cursed softly, his tone a mix of frustration and fond exasperation.

"Principessa, of all the times to finally come around, you pick now? I'm in Sicily. I can't do much from here."

"My dear Alessia. You're a shark at the negotiating table. How did you let a rabid dog like Rafael bite you twice? Did you forget every lesson in self-defense your father taught you?"

I pressed down hard on the bleeding wound, my voice laced with bitterness.

"I have a proposition. Control of the Newark Port shipping routes. Is that a big enough stake for you?"

The crisp sound of a lighter clicked on the other end. His tone shifted, sharp with interest.

"Send me the time and place. I'll be there, with my best shooter."

"Next time you have a mess like this, call me first. Deals like this are my favorite kind."

I sent all the details of the church wedding to Giovanni in an encrypted message.

Two seconds later, my screen lit up with a single word: "Done."

Rafael's men had turned the manor, once set for our wedding, upside down. And my dignity with it.

I gritted my