Page 37 of Shattered Engagement

When his gaze lands on me, he nods in approval, completely unaware that he’s looking at his firstborn son. Unaware that in five days, I will destroy everything he’s built.

Luca reclaims Isadora, his hand once again possessive at her waist. She plays her part perfectly—the dutiful fiancée, the obedient daughter, the perfect mafia bride. Only I see the fire behind her eyes, the determination that matches my own.

Five more days until we burn it all down.

Five more days until I become Stefano Calviño again.

Five more days until Isadora and I discover if there’s a future for us beyond the ashes of revenge.

I adjust my cufflinks, straighten my shoulders, and slip back into the role of Alessio Gravano. For now, I am still the enforcer, the loyal soldier, the ghost in Giancarlo’s organization.

But beneath that carefully constructed façade, Stefano Calviño waits patiently and with determination, ready to reclaim everything that was stolen from him—and perhaps to claim something new he never expected to find.

13

Isadora

The mansion is quiet as I slip through corridors I’ve navigated since childhood. Every shadow feels like an accusation, every creak of the floorboards beneath my feet a judgment on my betrayal. The De Angelis name has been my identity since birth, my prison, and my privilege. Yet here I am, moving through darkness toward a man who threatens everything my family has built.

I can still feel Luca’s fingers digging into my arm at the gala, the bruises forming beneath the silk of my dress. They’ll bloom purple by morning, added to the collection of marks he’s left over our two-year engagement—physical reminders of ownership, of what my life will become if our plan fails.

Five more days before I’m supposed to become his wife. The thought makes my stomach turn.

My feet carry me to the east wing where Alessio—no, Stefano—is staying. The Calviño men are gathered for a late-night strategy meeting with my father, giving me the window I need. Every security camera on this path has been temporarily looped, thanks to a trick Stefano taught me. Fifteen minutes. That’s all I have.

I pause outside his door, heart hammering against my ribs. The memory of his eyes burning into mine across the ballroom, the way he positioned himself between Luca and me, the barely restrained violence in his voice when he intervened—it all sends heat curling through my body despite the danger.

I know exactly what I’m risking by being here. If we’re caught, the consequences would be catastrophic. My father would never forgive the betrayal. Luca would demand blood. Empires would fall.

Yet I knock anyway, three soft taps that barely disturb the silence.

The door opens immediately, as if he’s been waiting for me. Stefano stands shirtless, gun in hand, eyes alert. When he registers my presence, relief displaces wariness, but only for a moment before concern takes its place.

“Isadora,” he whispers, pulling me inside and closing the door. “What are you doing here? It’s too dangerous.”

His room is spartan, revealing nothing of the man who occupies it. No personal items, no photographs, nothing that could betray his true identity. The perfect soldier, the perfect spy.

“I needed to see you,” I say, moving closer to him. The warmth radiating from his bare chest calls to me like a beacon. “After tonight, after what happened with Luca—”

“Are you okay?” He cuts me off, setting the gun down on the nightstand before gently taking my arm. His fingers trace the bruises Luca left, a touch so different from my fiancé’s—gentle, reverent, concerned. “These are worse than I thought.”

“I’ve had worse,” I admit, watching something dark flicker across his features.

“From him?” The question is a growl, primal and protective.

I nod, unwilling to soften the truth. “It’s been escalating over the past year. Small things at first—gripping too hard, ‘accidentally’ bumping into me, criticizing what I wear or say. Then it became more deliberate. He enjoys it, I think. The control.”

Stefano’s jaw tightens, eyes hardening to amber ice. “I should’ve killed him tonight.”

“And ruin everything we’ve planned?” I reach up, fingers brushing against the stubble lining his jaw. “Five more days, remember? Then it all ends.”

His hand captures mine, pressing my palm against his cheek. The simple gesture feels more intimate than anything I’ve ever experienced. “I didn’t want you to see that side of this life. The ugliness beneath the glamour.”

A small, bitter laugh escapes me. “I’ve always seen it, Stefano. I was born into it, just like you. The difference is that no one bothered hiding it from me. I just wasn’t allowed to acknowledge it.”

He searches my face, those amber eyes seeing too much, understanding too well. “You deserved better than this.”

“So did you,” I counter. “So did your mother.”

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