For the sake of Isabella, the woman he truly loved, my fiancé Vincent Moretti threw me out of Chicago and left me to rot in a remote town in Montana.

Three years later, he showed up to bring me back, with Isabella and a group of family members in tow.

He spoke to me with the tone of someone giving charity to a beggar. "It's been three years, Vivian. Even a stray dog should have learned some obedience by now."

"I'm doing this for your own good. If you don't get rid of that thorny attitude, you'll never wear that ring and become the real Mrs. Moretti."

Everyone expected me to burst into tears, to tell him how much I'd suffered and missed him over the last three years, to cling to him just like I used to.

But I just smiled calmly.

"I'm afraid that's not possible, Vincent."

"I'm already married."

...

I had just gotten back from the town's farmers' market, my hands full of fresh groceries.

From a distance, I saw them. A dozen black Cadillacs and Lincoln Navigators parked in front of the small wooden cabin I had called home for three years.

The license plates were all from Illinois.

As I got closer to the door, I could hear the sound of their voices, laced with mockery and laughter.

"Three years. I wonder what our 'little miss high-and-mighty' looks like now. Probably a country bumpkin covered in mud, right?"

"What 'little miss'? She's just an orphan the old Don adopted. Did she really think she was one of us?"

"Exactly. Not a single drop of Moretti blood in her. If it weren't for the family's charity, she'd be worse off than a beggar on the street."

"I think Vivian was just young and foolish back then. After three years of being 'reformed,' I'm sure she understands her mistakes now."

A gentle female voice cut through the harsh comments, bringing a moment of silence to the yard.

I recognized that voice. It was Isabella's.

The woman Vincent Moretti cherished like a delicate flower.

Three years ago, her father, a minor captain in the family, died in an "accident." Vincent brought her to the Moretti estate to live.

And I was sent here.

When he sent me away, he had screamed at me, "Isabella has already lost everything, and you still talk to her with such venom! She's always so good to you, don't you have a heart?"

"When you learn to shut your mouth and be obedient, then I'll let you come back to Chicago."

"Otherwise, you can rot in this godforsaken place for the rest of your life!"

"I'm doing this for your own good! If you don't change that attitude of yours, you'll never be Mrs. Moretti!"

For my own good?

What a beautiful lie.

For my own good meant siding with Isabella even in that situation.

For my own good meant tossing me into this shithole and never looking back.

He knew I was on the verge of a breakdown back then.

Hearing those words now just felt ironic.

"You have a kind heart, Isabella, not holding a grudge against her. If it were me, I'd make sure she learned a real lesson."

Isabella said softly, "Vivian is still... part of the family, in a way..."

As she spoke, her eyes reddened, as if she was the one who had been wronged.

"Don't be sad, Isabella. That idiot has already been punished. What do you think her face will look like when she sees us?"

"Is that even a question? She'll probably burst into tears and get on her knees, begging Vincent to take her back."

Vincent let out a cold snort. "It's been three years. Even a dog would be tamed by now."

"If she isn't, she can just stay here and continue her 'reformation.'"

A chorus of agreement rose around him.

"Well, I'm kind of hoping she hasn't been tamed. That way I'll never have to see her again."

"Yeah, I can't stand the way she acts, so ungrateful."

"But... I thought their engagement was still on?" a hesitant voice asked.

Hearing this, Isabella turned her head toward Vincent, her eyes filled with anticipation.

"The engagement... we'll see how she behaves from now on."

Isabella looked away, her disappointment clear.

I couldn't help but let out a laugh.

I didn't try to hide it.

The sound of my laughter, carried by the breeze, startled the group of self-important assholes in the yard.

The man closest to the door turned and saw me, his voice a mix of shock and confusion.

"Vivian Hayes?!"