Chapter 2

Maya POV:

The rooftop restaurant was a stage, and Liam was its director. He'd booked the entire place-a known neutral ground where the heads of the Five Families sometimes met to broker peace. Tonight, it was for a different kind of performance: The Happy Marriage of Don Liam Gallo.

Journalists, the ones on his payroll, snapped photos as we arrived. Liam's hand was a heavy, possessive brand on the small of my back, guiding me through the whispers and flashing lights. I smiled. It was a mask I had perfected over three years, a placid surface hiding the screaming void beneath.

"You're beautiful tonight, mia cara," he murmured, his lips brushing my ear.

I didn't answer. I just smiled wider for the cameras.

He led me to a table at the edge of the terrace, the city sprawling beneath us like a carpet of fallen stars. He was all charm and devotion, ordering my favorite wine, telling stories that made me sound like a saint-the one pure thing in his dark world. I wasn't a person; I was a prop. A well-cared-for, beautifully dressed prop for the Gallo Family's public relations.

Halfway through dinner, fireworks erupted across the sky, a sudden explosion of color. A grand, public spectacle arranged just for us. For our anniversary. The crowd of diners-all carefully vetted associates and allies-applauded.

Liam beamed, taking my hand. "For you, Maya. To show the world how much I love you."

As he leaned in to kiss me, his phone, lying face-up on the table, flashed to life. My eyes flickered down.

A text from Ava.

You're so good at this. Does she believe a single word?

My blood ran cold. The kiss he pressed to my lips felt like ice. I pulled back slowly, my smile never wavering. He was so arrogant, so sure of his control, that he didn't even bother to hide his phone.

He picked it up, his thumb swiping across the screen. I watched, my face a perfect porcelain mask, as he started to type a reply. My gaze drifted past him, to the fireworks painting the sky in bursts of red and gold. They looked like blood and money.

Then I heard him chuckle. A low, private sound.

I leaned forward slightly, pretending to admire the view.

"The necklace looks better on you anyway," he was muttering as he typed. "I'll get it back for you tomorrow."

The 'Maya's Dawn' necklace.

The symbol of my status. The piece of jewelry named for me. He was promising it to his goomah.

This was no longer just a betrayal of our marriage. In our world, this was a different kind of sin. It was a public stripping of my position. An announcement to his mistress that the Don's wife was temporary. Replaceable.

The air left my lungs in a silent rush. The beautiful, glittering city below me blurred into a meaningless smear of light. And in that moment, the love I had for him-the love I had clung to like a drowning woman clinging to an anchor-finally, completely, died.