Chapter 2

The gates of the Romano estate swung open. Our sedan passed armed guards and rows of cars belonging to New York's major families.

Grandfather had given me twenty-five percent of Romano Shipping, including control of its European routes—the real reason the Bellinis wanted me.

What neither family knew was that, during my three years in Paris, I had expanded those routes from three to eleven and placed every European port agreement under companies I controlled.

Giulia Ricci entered the ballroom with a white silk gown and my mother's pearl necklace. When I was eleven, I had been kidnapped by a rival family. Everyone believed I was dead. My parents took in Giulia, whose father had supposedly died protecting mine, and who bore an uncanny resemblance to me. By the time I made it home, she was sleeping in my room, wearing my clothes, calling my parents Mom and Dad. From that day on, whenever she cried, everyone assumed I had been the one to hurt her.

She spotted me and her eyes welled up immediately. "Elena." Her voice carried just enough to reach the nearby guests. "You really came back."

"Clearly."

"I thought you wouldn't want to see me."

"You thought correctly." I kept my voice flat. "I came for Grandfather."

Vittorio was the only one who had believed me. Three years ago, he had sent men to break down the wine cellar door and rush me to the hospital. But he had been recovering in Sicily at the time, and by the time he reached New York, I had already left the country.

"I've always wanted to talk to you." Tears slipped down Giulia's cheeks. "I was wrong about what happened three years ago, too. If my being here made you feel replaced, I can apologize."

Murmurs rippled through the crowd. "Giulia is the one lowering herself, and she's still being cold." "Three years in Europe and she learned nothing." "No wonder the Bellinis haven't set a date. Who would make a woman like that their Donna?"

"If you really want to apologize," I lifted my glass, "stay away from me."

"That's enough, Elena." Marco stepped between us. "You were given one chance to come home without causing another scene."

"I answered her question."

"You humiliated her in front of every family in New York."

Matteo crossed the ballroom and placed himself beside Giulia. His hand settled against her lower back with the ease of long habit.

"Apologize," he ordered. "Now."

"For asking her to stay away from me?"

"For proving that three years in Europe changed nothing." Matteo lowered his voice. "Grandfather still intends to leave you control of the European routes. If you cannot behave like a Romano tonight, the family council has every right to question whether you should keep those votes."

So that was what this performance was really about.

Giulia did not merely want my room, my parents, and the man I had once planned to marry. She wanted the twenty-five percent of Romano Shipping that controlled every route between New York and Europe.

Giulia caught my gaze and quickly lowered her head.

"I don't want Elena to lose anything because of me," she whispered.

"Of course you don't." Marco touched her shoulder. "But the family cannot put its future in the hands of someone this unstable."

Nico nodded toward the guests watching us. "Everyone here can see who is behaving like a Romano daughter—and who isn't."

I looked around the ballroom. Three years ago, they had locked me in a cellar based on Giulia's tears. Tonight, they intended to use those same tears to take my inheritance.

"Then call a council vote," I said. "Let's see how much of Romano Shipping still moves after you remove me."

Matteo's expression tightened. He understood the warning, even if Marco did not.

Giulia's fingers curled around his sleeve.

A server passed beside us with a tray of champagne. Giulia reached out as though steadying him, and her fingers brushed the rim of my glass.

Seconds later, the room tilted. A wave of nausea rolled through me. Cold sweat slipped down my neck, and my fingers went numb.

I snapped my head up. Giulia was still ducking behind Marco and Matteo, still playing the wounded foster daughter. But from my angle, I could see the faint curl of her lips. She knew exactly what had happened.

The glass slipped from my numb fingers and shattered on the floor, splashing deep red wine across Giulia's white gown. She screamed and shrank behind Matteo. "Elena, I didn't mean to upset you! Please don't do this to me!"

The music stopped. The ballroom went dead silent. Then the whispers started. "She attacked her in front of everyone. She has no respect for the Romano family." "A woman like that doesn't belong in the Bellini house." "Blood doesn't matter. Giulia at least knows gratitude." "Vittorio shouldn't have left her those shares."

"You disgust me." Matteo held my wrist.

"Let go of me." My tongue was going numb, my voice slurring. "There's something in the wine. I'm dizzy."

"Here we go again. Every time you're caught, you play the victim."

"We all saw it." Nico pointed at me. "You stared at Giulia and threw your drink at her. Now you're accusing her of drugging you?"

"My hand went numb."

"A lie is still a lie, no matter how well told." Marco cut in. His eyes swept over my pale face but did not linger. He gestured to two guards at the door. "Take her to the security room downstairs. She stays there until Grandfather cuts the cake."

The guards grabbed my arms. The drug was stealing my strength. My knees buckled and I could barely stand as they dragged me through the crowd.

"It was Giulia." I managed to raise a hand, pointing at the woman behind Matteo. "She put something in my wine."

Giulia went white, tears streaming. "Elena, why are you trying to destroy me?"

Matteo pulled her into his arms and looked at me with ice in his eyes. "Because there isn't a single person here who would believe a word you say."

The door of the underground security room slammed behind me. The lock turned. Darkness swallowed everything.