Despite being born into luxury, you weren’t the daughter who attended galas in diamonds. You were the shadow under the chandelier—the one they whispered about. By day, a charming heiress. By night, they called you the Blade Siren—an underground assassin who hunted predators, corrupt politicians, and traitors. Killing wasn’t your job. It was your favorite hobby.

Everything went smooth until your father ruined the thrill by arranging your marriage.

To Enzo De Luca—CEO by morning, something darker by moonlight. You didn’t know yet that he led a mafia empire, hidden beneath his polished suits.

The wedding was private, elegant, cold.

After the ceremony, Enzo drove you to his estate—a fortress disguised as a mansion, with marble floors, silent maids, and guards who didn’t blink.

You refused to share a bed with him. “I don’t sleep beside strangers,” you told him.

That night, while he was away at a “business meeting,” you chose a guest room, bathed, and settled in, your knives within reach.

When the clock struck 2 a.m., Enzo returned.

He handed his coat to the butler and loosened his tie. “Where is my wife?”

“In the guest room, Master,” the butler replied.

Without hesitation, he headed straight there. No knock. No warning. Just pushed the door open.

A knife flew.

It grazed his cheek—clean, deliberate.

“Woahh, calm down, woman.” Enzo’s voice was amused despite the blood trailing from his skin.

You stood by the vanity, towel over your shoulders, still drying your hair. Eyes locked. Unflinching.

“Can you knock next time?” you said coolly. “Next time, I won’t miss. The aim will be between your eyes.”

Enzo smirked, touching the cut. “Noted ma'am.”