Chapter 3

Eliana POV:

A week later, I stepped into a high-stakes poker game at a club on neutral territory.

The gash on my forehead, a souvenir from my "fall" down the Moretti staircase after Catalina grabbed me, was mostly hidden by my hair, but I could feel the three stitches pulling at my skin. It was a constant, tight reminder. A visible mark of dishonor.

I saw them immediately. Jax and Catalina, moving through the room as if they owned the place. His arm was draped possessively around her waist, his fingers splayed across her hip.

My friends, Chloe and Madison, both daughters of loyal Gallo soldiers, rushed to my side.

"Lia, what's going on?" Chloe whispered, her eyes huge with shock. "People are saying the betrothal is off. That can't be true. It would destabilize everything."

I took a slow, deliberate sip of my drink.

"It's true," I said, my voice betraying nothing. "People change."

Jax's eyes found mine across the crowded room. He must have seen my composure, because a flicker of annoyance crossed his face. He leaned down and whispered something in Catalina's ear, and she let out a sharp, theatrical laugh.

He was trying to provoke me.

I ignored him. I turned to my friends and started talking about my plans for New York, about a life outside the suffocating grip of Chicago. I talked about classes and art galleries and a world where my last name meant nothing.

Later, during a high-stakes game, the tension in the room was thick enough to choke on. A dare was issued.

"Catalina," one of Jax's cousins slurred, "kiss the most powerful man in the room."

All eyes went to Jax.

Catalina looked directly at me, a malicious glint in her eyes. "Do you mind, Eliana?" she asked, her voice dripping with cloying, fake sweetness.

A cold smile touched my lips. "It has nothing to do with me."

Rage flashed in Jax's eyes. My indifference infuriated him more than any tears ever could.

He grabbed Catalina's face, his fingers tangling in her hair, and crushed his mouth to hers. It wasn't a kiss; it was a brutal statement.

He pulled back, breathing heavily, and looked straight at me. His voice boomed across the silent room.

"She's a much better kisser than you ever were."

The humiliation was absolute, a public execution of my worth. The room erupted in whispers and muffled laughter.

I didn't flinch. I held his gaze for a long moment, letting him see the complete and utter emptiness in my eyes.

Then, I turned and walked out of the club, my dignity the only thing they couldn't take from me.