By sunrise, I had learned two things: the Mafia boss waiting to marry me had already driven six wives out of his house, and if I refused to become number seven, my sick mother would lose her home

Six months later.

The grand ballroom of the Plaza Hotel in Manhattan was filled with three hundred of the most powerful people in the state—politicians, CEOs, high-ranking law enforcement officials, and underground figures who controlled the city's vast logistics networks.

Tonight was the annual Hudson Enterprise Gala.

Standing near the grand staircase, wearing a tailored navy suit that cost more than a small car, was Evelyn Aldridge.

Following her father's conviction and her mother's bankruptcy, Evelyn had been forced to take a low-level job at a PR firm just to pay rent on a tiny studio apartment in Queens. She was working the event tonight as an event coordinator, holding a clipboard, desperately trying to look like she still belonged in high society.

The heavy double doors of the ballroom swung open.

The room fell into an immediate, respectful hush.

Walking down the grand marble staircase was Cassian Vale. Beside him, her arm resting gracefully in his, was a woman wearing a breathtaking silk emerald dress that hugged her frame perfectly. Around her neck sat a diamond necklace that sparkled under the crystal chandeliers, and on her left ring finger burned a flawless six-carat black diamond.

It was me.

I moved through the room with steady, absolute grace, my head held high, my posture regal. Beside me, Cassian looked at me not as a trophy, but with the quiet, fierce pride of a man who knew he stood beside his equal.

Evelyn froze near the base of the stairs, her jaw dropping, her eyes wide with absolute horror and envy as she recognized the woman standing at the center of the city's attention.

It was the maid who used to clean her bathtub.

I paused at the bottom of the stairs, my eyes meeting Evelyn's across the crowded floor.

I didn't smile mockingly. I didn't glare. I simply offered her a cool, polite nod—the exact kind of dismissive acknowledgment wealthy people used to offer my mother and me when we were invisible.

Evelyn clutched her clipboard tight against her chest, her face turning crimson with shame, before she turned and disappeared into the kitchen service doors.

Cassian leaned down toward my ear, his deep baritone sending a warm shiver down my spine. "Enjoying the evening, my queen?"

"It's a lovely party, husband," I smiled, looking up into his dark, devoted eyes.

My mother was currently living in a beautiful, fully renovated estate in upstate New York, surrounded by gardens she owned, cared for by the finest medical staff in the country. The Aldridges were a distant, forgotten memory, their legacy erased, their power shattered.

And I was no longer Lydia Carter, the frightened maid in a gray uniform.

I was Lydia Vale. The woman who looked the monster in the eye, took his hand, and built an empire by his side.

Cassian raised his crystal glass, clinking it gently against mine under the glittering lights of the ballroom.