Chapter 3

For the next three days, I was confined to my room.

Laughter didn't return to the manor until the news came that Aurelia was well.

On the fourth day, one of Aurelia's maids knocked on my door, a practiced smile on her face.

"Miss Monroe, Mr. Santoro has commissioned a famous painter for a family portrait. It's your turn."

My heart didn't leap. It slammed against my ribs.

A portrait?

Did this mean they still saw me as part of the family?

The maid, as if reading my mind, added, "Besides, Lady Aurelia said you could retrieve what you came for after the portrait."

My grandmother's necklace.

Clinging to a sliver of hope, I changed into a respectable dress and walked to the manor's art studio.

The studio was bright, a massive canvas at its center.

But there was no chair for me.

I saw the nearly finished portrait. A grand, sweeping picture of a dynasty.

Alessio, in a black suit worthy of a Don, sat enthroned in a magnificent armchair.

His gaze was distant, fixed on the empire he commanded.

Aurelia, draped in virginal white silk, nestled beside him, cradling their sleeping daughter.

A perfect, sacred, untouchable family.

And I was the sinner who had stumbled into their temple, pathetic and out of place.

"You're here," Aurelia said without looking up, her eyes fixed on the artist's brush. "Come fix my dress. The hem is wrinkled."

Her tone was the one you'd use for a scullery maid.

I froze, the blood turning to ice in my veins.

"Thea," Alessio's brow furrowed, a flicker of impatience in his voice. "It's a small thing."

A small thing.

I swallowed the acid rising in my throat. And under his watchful eyes, and the artist's, I slowly knelt.

Just then, Alessio's phone rang. He took the call and stepped out.

As the door clicked shut, my fingers brushed against the cold, dead silk.

Humiliation wasn't a vine. It was a cage, its iron bars closing around my heart.

I smoothed every crease, as if I could iron out my own shattered pride.

"See how good Alessio is to me?" Aurelia purred in my ear. "He said to make up for my... ordeal, this portrait will hang in the main hall. The first thing every guest sees. So there is no confusion about who the true lady of the Santoro family is."

I finished with the dress and stood up, silent.

"My necklace?"

"Of course," she smiled, her back to the door. She held out the necklace, the pearls glowing softly.

Her hand moved toward me. Just as my fingertips were about to touch it, her wrist tilted.

The necklace slipped. It hit the hard floor.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," she gasped, feigning shock. She took a step, her sharp stiletto heel raised. "I lost my balance—"

Crack.

A small, heartbreaking sound.

The pearl, my last connection to my grandmother, was nothing but a smear of white dust on the floor.

"No!" The scream tore from my throat. I scrambled forward, trying uselessly to gather the dust between my fingers.

Just then, the door swung open.

Vito and Carmela stood there, their faces cold and judgmental.

Aurelia's face transformed in an instant. The vicious woman was gone, replaced by a terrified mother.

Tears streamed down her face as she backed away, clutching her daughter.

"Father! Mother! Thea's gone mad!" she shrieked. "She tried to take Lucia! She said if she couldn't hurt me, she'd hurt the baby to get back at Alessio!"

"Lies!" I scrambled to my feet, pointing a trembling finger at the dust. "She crushed my necklace!"

"Still lying!" Aurelia ripped back the baby's blanket, revealing several angry, red scratches on the infant's arm. "Look! This is what she was doing! Thank God you came when you did!"

Alessio burst back in, his eyes landing on his daughter's arm.

I stared.

The scratches.

When had they appeared?

I hadn't even touched the child.

"Thea, how could you be so cruel?" Alessio's voice was filled with disgust and rage.

"I didn't do it!" I stared at him, my eyes pleading. "Alessio, please, believe me! I swear I never touched that baby!"

SLAP!

Another sharp crack. Vito's hand struck my face with so much force I fell to the floor.

"You bitch! You hurt my granddaughter again and again!" His eyes were murderous. "I'll kill you for this!"

"Take her to the garage," Carmela ordered coldly. "Family business."

"No!" I looked at Alessio. "Alessio, save me! You know I'm not that person!"

He looked at me, his face torn.

"Alessio!" Carmela snapped. "She went after your own daughter! Are you still going to protect this snake?"

I saw the war in his eyes, and then I saw it die.

He turned his head.

"Take her," he said. His voice was pure ice.

I started to laugh. A wild, broken laugh as tears poured down my face.

"Thea Monroe, you are such a fool," I whispered to myself. "You actually believed the promise of a mafioso."

Two guards grabbed my arms and dragged me from the room.

The garage was cold and damp.

The first punch landed in my stomach. The pain doubled me over, but the memory was sharper. That warm afternoon, Alessio's hand on my belly. "Thea, if we have a baby, I hope it's a girl. Beautiful and kind, just like you."

A boot slammed into my ribs. I heard them crack. But the sound was drowned out by his promise, whispering in my memory: "Thea, I will protect you for the rest of my life. No one will ever hurt you. Not even me."

The third fist slammed into my back. I collapsed onto the cold concrete, the taste of blood in my mouth. But my mind was in the chapel, watching him kneel for ten days. "Thea, as long as I can marry you, I'll give up everything."

The punches and kicks rained down.

Every blow was a reminder. The sweet memories, the sacred vows... all of it was a lie.

My consciousness started to fade.

In the haze, I thought I heard someone screaming my name.

"Thea! Thea!"

Was that Alessio?

Or was I just imagining it?

The last blow landed on my temple.

The world went black.

Just before I lost consciousness, I heard frantic footsteps outside the door.

"Stop!" a voice roared.

But it was too late.