1

##Chapter 1

The scandal photos hit every news outlet in New York within hours—me tangled with Hollywood's newest heartthrob in his penthouse suite.

Social media exploded instantly.

"Holy shit, isn't that the biggest mafia boss's wife?"

"Wait, that's Boss Catherine's little sister!"

"The Castellano Family princess just nuked her own reputation."

My assistant burst through my apartment door, face white as chalk.

"Emma, are you completely insane? Vincent and Marco will—"

I exhaled smoke rings, utterly unbothered. "Relax, darling. The divorce papers are already signed."

The front door exploded inward before she could respond.

Vincent Torrino stood framed in splintered wood, his usually perfect hair disheveled, murder in his dark eyes.

"Enjoying your little rebellion, princess?"

I stubbed out my cigarette on the Italian leather armrest, smiling sweetly. "Oh, Vincent. I signed those papers faster than you signed my sister's death warrant."

Twenty-four hours ago, I was Emma Castellano—untouchable mafia royalty, wife to the most feared underboss in the Five Families.

Now I'm a widow with nothing left to lose.

My sister Catherine built the Castellano empire from blood and ashes. She found Vincent and Marco as starving street rats fifteen years ago, molding them into the deadliest weapons the underworld had ever seen.

They called her the Iron Queen—beautiful, brilliant, absolutely ruthless.

She was also the only person who ever truly loved me.

Until three days ago, when they found her body dumped in the Hudson River like garbage.

Tortured. Violated. Broken beyond recognition.

The man responsible? Tommy Ricci—Sophia's precious baby brother.

I can still hear his voice from the phone call yesterday, bragging to his friends: "You should have seen the great Catherine Castellano begging like a dog. Crying for her little sister to save her."

His laughter still echoes in my nightmares: "The Iron Queen? More like the Iron Whore when I was done with her."

And my husband, the man who swore to protect our family above all else, made sure Tommy walked free.

"Catherine's death was... unfortunate," Vincent had said, not meeting my eyes. "But Sophia saved our lives during the war with the Russians. We owe her this."

Marco nodded solemnly beside him. "Emma, you have to understand. Without Sophia, we'd both be dead in some Moscow alley."

Lies.

All of it.

But I'd played the grieving sister, the obedient wife.

Right up until I discovered the truth.

Vincent stepped closer now, expensive cologne mixing with the scent of gunpowder that always clung to his skin.

"This little tantrum ends now. You're coming home."

I stood slowly, smoothing down my black dress. "Home? You mean back to the house where you poisoned my sister for months before letting that animal finish the job?"

His mask slipped for just a second—a flicker of something that might have been guilt.

"Choose your next words very carefully, Vincent."