Chapter 4

The house was empty when I brought my suitcase downstairs. A note from Dad lay beside the coffee machine.

Taking Valentina for the family portraits. There's breakfast in the kitchen.

Matteo had already sent a photograph to the family chat. Valentina sat on a stone bench in my mother's altered bridal coat. Dad arranged the train, Claudia held her bag, and my brother stood beside a reflector. Luca stood beside the photographer, watching the shoot.

I'd asked the cleaner to hold the coat until the damage had been assessed, but Matteo had collected it for the shoot anyway.

Luca had found that coat for our wedding. Now he watched Valentina pose in it as though nothing was wrong.

She's never had proper family portraits, Matteo wrote. Come this afternoon if you're free.

Luca messaged privately.

Just helping her get through the shoot. I'll take you for your fitting afterward. I love you. Please don't shut me out.

I looked at the calendar. That afternoon had been our final wedding consultation. He'd confirmed it himself, then forgotten when somebody else needed him first.

Upstairs, I opened the drawer containing my mother's old film camera. The camera was there, but its leather folio was empty.

I called Matteo.

“The photographer is scanning the negatives,” he said. “You'll get them back.”

“Keep the originals together. I want them returned in the folio.”

Then I ended the call.

I packed the camera beside my mother's working sketchbook. Underneath them lay my portfolio. Dad preferred telling people I helped with the family's charity galas.

Designing clothes sounded too much like having a job he hadn't given me.

At the door, the housekeeper handed me a narrow box.

“Mr. DeLuca had this delivered.”

Inside was a diamond collar, cold and beautiful. Luca's card sat beneath it.

The pendant can be engraved again. This one is yours alone. We'll go away after the wedding, somewhere nobody needs anything from us.

He'd drawn a small heart beside his name. I ran a finger over it, remembering the notes he'd slipped into my schoolbooks before he learned to issue orders for a living.

Then I closed the box and left it on the hall table.

Our security driver offered the family car. I told him a licensed airport car was already coming. My passport and travel account were mine, however often the men in this house forgot the distinction.

The final portrait arrived while I was in traffic. Valentina stood between Dad and Claudia, Matteo's hand on her shoulder. Luca stood beside them.

They had made room for everyone except me.

Come home for dinner, Matteo wrote.

Luca promised cake.

At the gate, I disabled the family's location sharing. Before boarding, I sent Luca one message: The ring and the cancellation agreement are in my room. I am safe. The wedding is over.

Then I turned off my phone. The next time they checked my room, they would have to believe what I had finally said.