Chapter 4

The emerald caught the harsh backstage lights. That ring was my tether to a world before Vincent Cassio, to a family I’d chosen to hide to protect a man who saw me as furniture.

His fingers tightened around it.

“Three.”

My whole body was a tremor. I dug my nails into my palms until I felt wetness.

“Two.”

“I’ll do it.”

The words tasted like ash.

Vincent’s smile was victorious. He pocketed the ring and patted my cheek. “Good girl. Now hurry. She’s on soon.”

I walked into the nearest bathroom, locking the door. I stared at the ghost in the mirror—pale, dripping, eyes hollow.

For five years, I’d hidden who I was. I’d buried Elara Vitale, daughter of Arturo Vitale, the man even other Dons called “The Ghost,” to become Elara Cassio’s quiet shadow. I thought Vincent was building something real, something separate from the bloody legacy I’d run from.

I was wrong. I’d fed a wolf and thought it a puppy.

Every ounce of humiliation today, Vincent. You will pay for it with everything you have.

I didn’t touch the cheap satin dress. I kicked the garment bag into the corner.

I walked out of the bathroom and straight toward the bustling stage entrance.

Sofia was on Vincent’s arm, preening. She saw me and her face fell into a parody of disappointment. “Elara! You’re not ready! How will the dress look its best?”

Vincent’s eyes turned to black ice. “Elara. Now. Or so help me—”

The announcer’s voice boomed. “Please welcome, Sofia Ross!”

I didn’t look at them. I turned and walked toward the staff exit.

“Grab her!” Vincent snarled, forgetting the cameras.

The two bodyguards were on me. One kicked the back of my knees.

Crack.

My legs buckled. I hit the concrete floor hard, a jolt of white-hot pain shooting through my kneecaps.

Gasps. Cameras swiveled.

Vincent walked over, positioning himself between me and the worst of the lenses, playing to an audience.

“My apologies, everyone,” he announced, his voice dripping with false regret. “This woman is a disgruntled former employee. She’s developed an unhealthy fixation and is trying to disrupt tonight’s event for attention.”

He looked down at me, his eyes promising worse later. “Get this trash off my property.”

The guards hauled me up by my arms. My knees screamed in protest, blood staining my torn jeans.

As they dragged me past him, toward the service door and the pouring rain outside, Vincent leaned in.

His whisper was a blade. “Sleep in the gutter tonight, Elara. Think about your place.”

They threw me out. I landed in a deep, cold puddle.

Rain washed the blood from my knees, diluting it to pink.

I pushed myself up on my elbows. Through the rain and the glass doors, I could see Vincent leading Sofia onto the red carpet, waving. The hero and his star.

A grim, cold smile touched my lips.

From inside my soaked coat, I pulled a phone. Not the one Vincent monitored. This one was black, slim, encrypted. A direct line to a shadow.

My fingers, stiff and cold, dialed a number I hadn’t used in five years.

It rang once.

“Speak.” The voice on the other end was deep, calm, and carried the weight of a thousand silent threats.

“Federico.”

A pause. Then, a sharp intake of breath. “Elara? Where are you? What’s wrong?”

“The game is over.” My voice was steady now, deadly calm. “Liquidate every asset, every investment tied to Cassio Holdings. I want his cash flow severed by dawn.”

I closed my eyes, the rain mixing with the heat finally building behind them. “And Federico?”

“Yes, Principessa?”

“Come and get me. I want Vincent Cassio and his entire empire wiped off the map by tomorrow.”