Chapter 4 - The Ring of the Godfather
“Marry... who?” I choked out, staring at Leo as if he had spoken in a foreign language.
“Me,” Leo repeated, his expression entirely deadpan. He walked slowly around the desk, stopping just inches away from me. Up close, the silver threads in his dark hair and the faint lines around his eyes only added to a dangerous, weathered elegance. “You want protection from Nico? You want absolute immunity from my family’s enemies? You want to watch my son lose his mind when he realizes the woman he treated like a bet is suddenly his stepmother?”
The sheer audacity of the proposal left me breathless.
“You’re insane,” I whispered. “You’re fifty-two years old. You’re his father!”
“Which makes it the ultimate vengeance against his arrogance,” Leo replied coldly. “Nico thinks he can buy and sell people like commodities. He needs to learn that some things belong to a higher tier of power entirely.”
“I’m not a weapon for you to use against your son,” I snapped, stepping back.
“You’re a survivor,” Leo corrected, his gaze locking onto mine with terrifying intensity. “Look at yourself, Myra. You walked into the lion’s den tonight not to beg, but to find the truth. You have the backbone of a queen, and you’re wasting it playing nursemaid to an ungrateful boy.”
He reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. He flipped it open with his thumb.
Inside rested an antique diamond ring—heavy, square-cut, surrounded by a cluster of deep-blue sapphires. It didn’t look like an engagement ring bought at a modern jewelry store; it looked like a family crest forged in blood and history.
“This was my wife’s,” Leo said softly, the harshness leaving his tone for a fraction of a second. “She passed away twelve years ago. She was a strong woman who kept this family from tearing itself apart. When I look at you tonight, standing here in that red dress with broken glass at your feet... I see a woman who deserves to sit at the head of the table, not under it.”
I looked at the ring. Then I looked at the heavy oak doors leading back out into the hallway—back toward Nico, back toward Chloe’s betrayal, back to a life where I was a pawn in a rigged game.
If I walked out that door alone, I was a victim.
If I took this ring, I became untouchable.
“What’s the catch?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. “A marriage like this isn't real. What do you get out of it?”
“Stability,” Leo answered honestly. “The older capos in the syndicate think I’m losing my grip because I’m unmarried and aging. They want to test me. A young, fiercely loyal wife—a woman who commands respect—silences the doubters overnight. It’s a business arrangement, Myra. But I give you my word as a Casaro: no one will ever touch you, hurt you, or lie to you under my roof again.”
I reached out. My fingers hovered over the velvet box for three agonizing seconds.
Then, I picked up the heavy ring and slid it onto my left ring finger. It fit perfectly.
“When do we tell Nico?” I asked.
May you like
A slow, terrifyingly pleased smile spread across Leo Casaro’s face.
“At Sunday dinner,” he said. “Bring your appetite.”
