Chapter 3

Victoria

I had taken Vincent straight to the Rinaldi estate to announce our engagement.

My father was furious. He shattered his whiskey glass against the wall. "You marry this Castellano stray, and you're dead to us, Victoria!"

I didn't blink. I just grabbed Vincent's hand and walked out.

At the time, the Castellano family was bleeding out. Without an heir to hold the reins, rival syndicates were circling like vultures.

I married beneath my status to save them, on the condition that Vincent got his rightful inheritance.

Two months later, we tied the knot. Not a single Rinaldi showed up.

The whole underworld laughed at the Ice Queen taking a teenage boy toy.

The next day, I brought him to headquarters. At first, we kept it strictly professional.

I managed the rackets and taught him the business. He was nineteen—quiet, awkward, and easily embarrassed.

He was nothing like Dominic, who had a natural, commanding presence.

But Vincent's face… it was so identical it drove me crazy. I'd catch myself staring at him across the desk, totally lost in the illusion.

Under my watch, the failing syndicate bounced back. With the money came enemies.

I always put myself between Vincent and the bullets. The worst hit happened at the docks.

A rival crew ambushed us, throwing him into the freezing harbor. I didn't think twice.

I dove into the black water to pull him out, smashing my head hard against a concrete pylon in the process.

I woke up in the ER with a bandaged skull. Vincent was sitting by my bed, crying, his eyes completely bloodshot.

I just reached out and wiped his tears, smiling. To protect that face, I honestly would have died.

Things changed on my birthday. Vincent rented a luxury yacht and lit up the sky with fireworks.

"Victoria," he said, holding a massive bouquet of roses. He looked at me, hopeful and raw. "I want this to be real. Let's be a real husband and wife, okay?"

I closed my eyes and kissed him.

But I was kissing a ghost.

After that night, Vincent couldn't get enough of me. He'd steal kisses in the halls and cling to me at home.

But in the dark, tangled in the sheets, I hated it when he called me standard pet names. I forced him to call me "V"—the exact name Dominic used to call me.

To keep my attention, Vincent started changing.

Without me saying a word, he started wearing black suits with crisp white shirts. He even put on wire-rimmed glasses, though his vision was perfect.

It was Dominic's exact uniform.

Looking at him, my obsession grew. It felt like my phantom had finally returned to me.

But the fantasy didn't last.

During a routine run across town, Vincent's car was T-boned by a semi-truck. He was rushed to the ICU, clinging to life.

That same day, the capos called an emergency meeting. The uncles were using the crash as an excuse to seize control and name a new acting Boss.

I sat by Vincent's bed, torn. But I knew if I stayed, he would lose the empire Dominic shed blood for.

I left the hospital, crashed the boardroom with a dozen enforcers, and took the Boss seat myself.

By the end of the week, I handed the feds enough dirty ledgers to lock his treacherous uncles away for life.

When Vincent finally woke up, I rushed back to his bedside.

He was pale, but the look in his eyes was absolute ice.

"The empire means more to you than my life, huh?"

I knew he'd blame me, but I had no choice. I tried to explain, but he let out a bitter, broken laugh.

"I always wondered why you helped me," he whispered. "You didn't care about me. You just wanted the Castellano throne."

"Vinny, it's not—"

He cut me off, his voice dead. "You won, Victoria. The syndicate is yours. Don't come back here."

When he got out of the hospital, he officially took the Don title, but dumped all the actual work on me.

He started disappearing. Nightclubs, VIP girls, bringing women back to our bed to get a reaction out of me.

I had to personally catch him and clean up his scandals.

At first, it broke my heart. Later, I just went numb.

Vincent hated me, and this was his revenge.

Because I was guilty of using him as a body double, I just took it. We went from a loving couple to a toxic cliché, trapping each other in the same house.

But staring at his back this morning, the trance finally broke.

He was absolutely nothing like Dominic.

I had been sleepwalking for five years, and it was time to wake up.

Sitting in the back of my SUV on the way to headquarters, I pulled out my phone and booked a one-way, first-class ticket to Chicago.