Into The Rival's Arms: The Decoy's Escape

I stood behind the velvet curtain, clutching a positive pregnancy test, waiting for the perfect moment to tell Dante our family was growing.

Instead, I heard him laugh.

"She is not the bride," Dante told his Consigliere, swirling his fifty-year-old scotch. "She is the bulletproof vest I wear until it is safe for Sofia to enter the city. When the bullets stop flying, we throw the vest in the trash."

My world shattered.

When Sofia arrived that night, she didn't just take my place; she boiled my beloved cat for dinner. Dante didn't defend me. He told me to clean up the mess or face punishment.

To prove his devotion to her, he had his men drag me to "The Pit"—an underground fight club.

I was thrown into a cage with a starving Doberman.

I looked up at the VIP box, begging the man I loved to save me. Instead, Dante pressed the intercom button, his voice booming over the speakers.

"One million dollars on the dog," he said. "She won't last three minutes."

He covered Sofia's eyes to protect her innocence while the beast tore the flesh from my arm.

That night, Elena Vance died in the dirt.

One year later, the grieving Dante Moretti attended a gala for a mysterious new artist in New York.

He dropped his champagne glass when he saw me on stage, alive, wearing a dress that revealed my ruined, scarred arm.

"I didn't leave you, Dante," I said into the microphone, my voice cold as ice.

"You killed me. And now, I'm here to collect my winnings."