He Called Me Ugly. I Became His Biggest Regret. Chapter 01
My mafia fiancé Marco DeLuca leaned close and said: “You’re ugly.”
Yet, our engagement gala was three days away.
I was the consigliere’s daughter. He was the Don’s heir.
Our Families had been building this alliance for years.
The Commission would attend.
Every Family of standing would send representatives.
My entire future hung on this one night.
And Marco had just called me ugly in front of everyone.
Behind him, his crew was laughing.
The same one who’d called me “the future Donna DeLuca” last week shouted: “She told us to keep it down earlier, acting like she owns the place. Now the Don’s son calls her ugly — and she can’t even make a sound!”
Another picked it up: “Every guy needs a childhood sweetheart. Train her a little, and she falls right in line.”
They laughed until they were doubled over. And among them — standing slightly apart — was Valentina Rossi. The capo’s daughter.
The new beauty who’d entered our circle a year ago. Her lips were curved in a small, private smile.
I hadn’t known she was close with Marco’s crew.
She wasn’t supposed to be part of our circle.
But here she was.
And Marco was looking at her with a private, knowing smile.
I understood. In that single exchanged glance — I understood everything.
There is no dare but one humiliating truth.
Humiliating me in front of Valentina was the whole point.
Marco’s hand landed on my shoulder — the same hand that once punched a boy for pulling my hair when we were eight.
“Lucy. We were just playing Truth or Dare.I lost. Had to find a girl and tell her she’s ugly to her face.”
“You’re the only girl here I’m close with. How could you be ugly? You’re the woman I’m going to marry.”
He was already turning back toward his men before I could answer.
I looked down. My nails had broken the skin of my palms.
I was bleeding.
Three days.
In three days the Commission would watch me walk into the DeLuca estate ballroom.
My father would give his speech.
Marco would put a ring on my finger.
And I would be bound — for life — to a man who had just traded my dignity for a laugh from his crew and a smile from another woman.
I had asked him once, late on the compound rooftop, Manhattan glittering in the distance.
“Do you think one wrong choice could make us take completely different paths? Put us on separate roads forever?”
He grinned — that grin I’d loved since I was eight — and said: “Never. I go where you go. Nothing can tear us apart. ”
That was then.
Now he’d made his choice.
It wasn’t a small mistake.
It was a public execution of my dignity.
And worse — he didn’t even see it as a problem.
I took several deep breaths.
My mind cleared.
I gathered my things. Stood up.
Marco broke away from his crew. His hand grabbed my wrist.
“Lucy, they’re all my guys. It’s just a game. Don’t make this weird. Smile. Be cool.”He called me ugly in public — and he wanted me to be cheerful about it.
I pulled my wrist free.
“I’m not upset. Just my stomach’s bothering me. I’ll head over early. Don’t wait.”
I even gave him a small smile.
To make him believe what I say.
If I showed anger now, he’d argue. Gaslight. Waste my time. Drain my focus.
I couldn’t let him ruin the gala too.
Marco’s face relaxed.
He patted my head — the way you pat a dog that’s learned its trick.
“I knew it. My Lucy always the best.”
When I turned away, the smile on my face dropped.
I walked to an empty room on the opposite wing.
Sat alone. Opened my father’s briefing notes — protocol lists, alliance terms, every Commission member’s name.
And I made myself a promise.
Marco.
I will not make things difficult for you.
I will simply — without hesitation, without mercy, without wasting a single second — race toward a future that does not include you.