My engagement to Julian Russell had been on hold for three years, and he still refused to formally ask my father for my hand.

Then, he met my stepsister, Cera, and it was love at first sight. He began pursuing her all over New York City, making a grand spectacle of it all.

This time, I didn't cry. I didn't wait quietly for him to get bored and come back to me like I always had before.

I got rid of all the expensive gifts he'd ever given me. I took a pair of scissors to the Vera Wang wedding gown I had secretly custom-made for our marriage.

On the day of his birthday, I left New York alone.

Right before boarding the plane, Julian suddenly sent me a text.

"Why aren't you here yet? Everyone is waiting for you."

I smiled, didn't reply, and blocked his number along with every other contact from the Russell family.

He had no idea that just two weeks ago, I had accepted a proposal.

From the head of the Falcone family, Damian Falcone.

Once my plane landed in Chicago, we were getting married.

…

"Damian, I've made my decision."

I stood in front of the mirror, looking at my pale, thin reflection.

It turned out that making a decision that could shake the entire underworld wasn't so difficult after all.

"Rosalie… will you marry me?"

On the other end of the line, Damian's voice was steady and strong.

A pang of sadness suddenly hit my heart.

As a tear rolled down my cheek, I nodded slightly. "I do."

"Rosalie, did you know? I've been waiting for this day since the first time we met at Columbia University."

In the mirror, a faint smile had appeared on my lips.

"Give me two weeks. I'll handle things here in New York."

"Alright, Rosalie. I'll be waiting for you."

The moment I hung up, my bedroom door was suddenly thrown open from the outside.

"Rosalie." My father, Carlo Moretti, cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Your sister isn't feeling well, and your room gets the best sunlight in the entire estate. Why don't you two switch for a few days?"

I didn't say a word, my gaze falling on my stepmother and stepsister, Cera, standing behind him.

My stepmother quickly spoke up. "Carlo, we don't need to trouble the young lady."

Cera also added, her voice full of false grievance, "Yes, Father, I'm fine. Please don't make my sister upset because of me."

"What trouble? You're my daughter too."

My father finished, then looked at me with a stern expression. "Rosalie, you're the older sister. You need to be more understanding."

I stared blankly at my father.

I thought I would be heartbroken, devastated that my own father loved a girl with no Moretti blood more than me.

But not a single tear fell.

I even smiled and nodded at them.

"Fine. I'll switch with her."

In two weeks, I would be leaving this place forever.

It didn't matter which room I slept in.