My Fiancé’s Mistress Called Me A Bitch

My mother sent me to Chicago to marry Marco Ricci. A power move. One meant to cement our family’s control of the city. After all, my grandfather was the one who put the Riccis on the map. They owed us. They were supposed to treat me like royalty.

I went to the fanciest jeweler in Chicago to buy my fiancé a gift. But some broad snatched it right from me. Before I could move, the store manager was fawning all over her.

“Miss Bianca! A gift from Mr. Ricci? It’s perfect on you!”

Marco? My fiancé?

So this was his whore.

She slid the sapphire ring onto her finger and shot me a look of disgust. “Who the hell do you think you are, bitch? Trying to take what’s mine?”

I didn't even look at her. I just called Marco.

"Your whore has something of mine. You have three minutes. Get down to the jeweler and handle her."

I came here to buy a gift for the fiancé I’d never met. Instead, his mistress stole it right out from under me, and they both tried to grind me into the dirt. So I declared war.

The second my plane touched down in Chicago, I headed straight for the city’s most expensive jeweler.

“Box up that ring. I’m taking it.”

It was the Valenti family sapphire.

It had been lost for three years during our family’s internal war. Today was the day I got it back.

It was my engagement gift to Marco Ricci. A message from the sole heir of the Valenti family.

But the manager’s eyes slid over my simple, no-logo cashmere coat, then landed on the brilliant sapphire on the counter. His lip curled.

“Miss,” he said, his voice dripping with disdain, “this ring is ten million dollars. I think you’ve wandered into the wrong shop. The places that sell cheap trinkets are down the street.”

I didn’t get angry. I just pulled a black card from my pocket.

No point wasting my breath on the help.

But just then, a flashy woman next to me snatched the ring box.

“Oh my god! The blue is divine! It’s practically made for my new Jimmy Choos!”

The ring that belonged to me was now on the hand of a woman drowning in a cloud of cheap perfume.

She turned, looking me up and down.

“Is security on a coffee break? Why are you letting street trash like her in here?”

The manager’s face instantly broke into a groveling smile.

“Miss Bianca! Is this a gift from Mr. Ricci? Only someone with your class could pull off a gem like this.”

I watched their little performance, my expression unreadable.

“Put the ring down,” I said, my voice cold as steel, my eyes locked on Bianca. “That doesn't belong to you.”

Bianca laughed, a shrill, ugly sound.

“I can’t touch it? Do you know who I am? I’m Marco Ricci’s future wife! All of Chicago is the Ricci family’s backyard. If