Chapter 2

In the days that followed, my parents only doted on Lydia more.

The Mafia summit arrived right on schedule. It was the biggest gathering in the Mafia world, where the leaders of every prominent famiglia showed up.

The ballroom glittered with crystal chandeliers, elegant guests mingled, and glasses clinked in a lively exchange of toasts.

Matteo walked in holding Lydia's hand as they weaved through the crowd.

People glanced at them, then at me, standing alone in the corner. The looks in their eyes were sharp, full of mockery and disdain.

I could feel those probing, contemptuous stares burning into me. I lowered my head and swirled the wine in my glass, pretending not to notice.

Suddenly, a sharp scream ripped through the room. "Who do you think you are? How dare you touch my necklace?"

I looked up to see Lydia yanking a woman's hair with one hand while slapping her repeatedly with the other.

The woman wore a red evening gown, exuding a seductive elegance, but her diamond necklace had been torn from her neck, scattering stones across the marble floor.

When I saw her face, my stomach dropped.

It was Sofia Amato, the favorite mistress of Don Marco Pirelli.

Marco was vicious, volatile, the kind of man no one in the Mafia world dared to cross, much less lay a hand on the woman he kept at his side like a prized jewel.

Lydia had been sheltered her whole life, kept far away from famiglia business, so of course she had no idea who Sofia was.

I moved to intervene, but it was already far too late.

Sofia's bodyguards stormed through the crowd and surrounded Lydia in seconds.

Marco arrived soon after. The moment he saw the handprint on Sofia's cheek and the diamonds littering the floor, his face darkened and looked carved from stone.

He grabbed Lydia's wrist in a crushing grip and hissed coldly, "You dare lay a hand on my woman? The Capone family has grown bold."

My parents went pale and rushed forward to plead, but Marco didn't budge. In front of every guest, he declared, "From this moment on, the Pirelli and Capone families are at war. And anyone who stands with the Capones stands against us."

We were "escorted" out of the ballroom, if getting shoved out counts as being escorted.

Back home, Lydia collapsed onto the couch, sobbing and throwing a tantrum, ranting that Sofia was rude and deserved it, never once acknowledging her own fault.

My parents were shaking with anger, but they still couldn't bring themselves to scold her.

They groveled, visiting old allies, offering to give up 30% of the profits just to salvage partnerships. But everyone feared the Pirellis too much. One by one, they refused.

Just when the family was spiraling, a message came from the Pirellis. "We're willing to let it go, but the one who started the fight has to apologize in person and accept punishment."

Hearing this, my parents didn't look relieved. How could they? They would never allow Lydia to suffer even a scratch.

I watched the three of them panic, then turned to head upstairs. But Matteo stepped in front of me.

"Camilla, you'll take Lydia's place," he said calmly, as if he'd already decided for me.

"You're twins and look almost identical. The Pirellis won't know the difference. It's just a minor reckoning. For the sake of the famiglia, you won't refuse, right?"

A minor reckoning? A cold laugh twisted through my chest.

Everyone knew Marco's revenge was brutal. People who crossed him never walked away.

Matteo had spent years navigating the Mafia world. He knew exactly what this "punishment" meant, yet he shoved me toward it without blinking.

To him, I was nothing but a tool to be sacrificed, so long as Lydia and the Capone family's interests were protected, my life didn't matter.

My parents immediately chimed in, faces lighting with relief, "Exactly, Camilla! Lydia can't endure that.

"But you're strong. You'll handle it just fine. And you'll finish the trial for her. You can't let anything go wrong."

I swallowed down the rising despair and nodded softly. "Fine. I'll go."