The Billionaire He Pretended Not to Be Chapter 01
I turned eighteen in that cramped little apartment, when Leo slipped a cheap ring picked from a bin of junk jewelry into my palm and called it a proposal.
“Marry me. I’ll make you the happiest woman alive.”
Then my twenty-fourth birthday rolled around, and the Romano Family tracked him down.
Overnight, he was no longer the quiet, unremarkable Leo. The surname Romano alone was enough to make any man hold his head high.
I headed home early on our wedding anniversary, planning a surprise for him.
The front door hung ajar. I hadn’t stepped into sight yet, but their voices drifted out to me first.
“Are you serious? Hiding out in this dump?” one man laughed. “You’d throw away your birthright over some girl from this block?”
Leo took a drag off his cigarette and let out a scoff.
“Not a chance.”
“She’s just a distraction.”
Thin hallway light seeped through the crack, stinging my eyes raw.
Every pair of shoes on their feet cost more than I earned in a full year hauling cargo down at the docks.
One man curled his lip in a sneer. “All that cheap garbage she gives you? I wouldn’t touch it with a ten-foot pole.”
Another clicked his tongue. “Harsh, but he’s not wrong.”
My lashes trembled as I squeezed tight the gift I’d saved three months straight to buy him.
It was the nicest thing I’d ever been able to afford for him.
“You’re officially engaged now. How much longer do you plan to string her along?”
Smoke blurred Leo’s features, his tone flat and empty.
“I’ve got no timeline. She’s too dumb to notice a single thing.”
Their laughter bounced off the thin walls.
“Completely blind.”
“What about the Santoro girl? You think you can keep this hidden from her?”
Santoro. I’d heard the name before, a princess born into one of the most powerful mafia bloodlines. Word spread no man in the five families could resist her.
Leo didn’t so much as flinch, only stubbed out his cigarette on the floor.
“You finished?” he said. “Autumn’s gonna be home any minute.”
They filed out one after another, complaining the neighborhood was too far and filthy.
Someone tossed out a date—his engagement to a Santoro was set for next month.
Next month.
The hallway air hung thick and sweltering, yet ice cold dread seeped straight into my bones.
I thought back to a year prior, when the whole city buzzed with rumors that the Romano Family was searching for their long-lost youngest son.
I pictured myself standing in that tiny kitchen, staring at Leo.
“Your last name’s Romano too,” I’d said back then. “Could it be you they’re looking for?”
He let out a hollow laugh. “Why would it be me?”
I’d answered without hesitation. “Because… you don’t belong here.”
I grew up in a dead-end small town, my mother married to a drunk who’d rather throw fists than hold a conversation.
The drunk had a son. Truth be told, I never bought that he was his real son.
Cold, devastatingly handsome, he never fit the town’s gray, miserable atmosphere. He truly didn’t belong there. I’d meant every word.
We never brought up the Romano name again that night.
After that, news of the family vanished entirely from my life.
They’d found him ages ago, and he’d been lying to me this whole time.
Darkness pooled thicker at the end of the hall, swallowing everything in sight.
I needed to run, escape anywhere at all.
I couldn’t face him.
But the second I stepped forward out of the stairwell—
His gaze locked right onto mine.
