Chapter 2

Cassandra?

A welcome home party from her? The woman who threw me into hell now wants to play the forgiving angel?

I stared at the perfect mask Lorenzo wore—the mask of the Don—and felt sick to my stomach.

“She’s in there?”

“Of course,” Lorenzo said, like it was the most normal thing in the world. “Cassandra’s been setting up since this morning. Didn’t even stop for lunch. She… she really wants to make it up to you.”

Make it up to me? For killing my father and stealing my life? With a party?

Lorenzo saw my blank expression, and a flicker of annoyance crossed his face. It was the look of a man whose patience was wearing thin. “Bella, Cassandra’s gesture…”

“What gesture?” I cut him off, my voice flat.

His expression hardened. Finally, he just said, “Get inside.”

I walked straight for the main doors. Lorenzo was right behind me. The scent of his expensive cologne, once my safe harbor, now felt like poison in my lungs.

Before we even entered, the chatter from inside slithered out like snakes.

“I heard the father-killer is back.”

“The Don is too merciful. If it were me, I’d have let her rot in that cell.”

“A woman with no family name. How is she fit to be the Donna of the Romano family?”

The words were needles, pricking at nerves I thought were long dead.

Lorenzo’s steps faltered. His face darkened.

He instinctively reached for me. An old habit—to pull me into his arms, to shield me from the world.

That was how he used to protect me. The proof that he loved me.

But now, I calmly stepped aside, avoiding his touch.

“Don’t touch me.”

Lorenzo’s hand froze in mid-air. Real pain, just for a second, flashed in his eyes.

“Bella…”

I looked at his hands. “The same hands that once shielded me from the world,” I whispered, “are the ones that pushed me into the fire.”

His body went rigid. His face turned pale.

The gossip inside continued, getting louder, bolder.

Lorenzo snapped.

He kicked open the heavy oak doors.

BOOM—

The sound silenced the entire hall. Every head turned in shock to see him, and me, standing in the doorway.

Lorenzo’s eyes were like ice as he swept them across the room. His voice was low, dangerous, laced with the promise of violence.

“This is Isabella Romano. My wife. The Donna of the Romano family. Her honor is my honor.” He paused, forcing the words through his teeth. “Anyone disrespects her again, they get a bullet. A lesson in manners.”

The room was dead silent.

That was the power of Don Lorenzo Romano.

I felt a flash of irony. He was defending an "honor" that he himself had destroyed.

This sudden protection gave me a sliver of false hope.

Maybe… he still cared.

“Lorenzo…”

A soft voice cut through the silence.

I saw Cassandra, dressed in a pristine white Chanel suit, step out from the crowd.

Her eyes were red-rimmed, making her look like a frightened deer. Beautiful and innocent.

Three years had only made her more stunning.

She walked straight to me, tears in her eyes, her voice trembling. “Bella… I… I’m so… so sorry…”

She reached for my hand. I didn’t move.

“Sorry?” I looked at her. “What for?”

Cassandra bit her lip, a tear rolling perfectly down her cheek. “I know… because of me… you’ve been through so much…”

Been through so much?

She orchestrated a murder, and I went to prison for it. That’s what she calls “going through so much”?

Lorenzo immediately stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on Cassandra’s shoulder. “Cassandra, don’t cry. It’s not your fault.”

Not her fault?

Then whose was it? Mine?

“Bella,” Lorenzo turned to me, his tone a mix of reprimand and command. “Cassandra worked all day on this party.”

I watched them. One playing the innocent victim, the other the devoted protector.

And I was the ungrateful bitch.

Cassandra took two glasses of red wine from a passing waiter’s tray and downed one of them.

Then, she held the other out to me, her hands trembling.

A flash of hatred in her eyes was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by a look of deep regret and pleading.

“Bella, I am officially apologizing to you,” she choked out, her gaze flickering past me to Lorenzo. “Can you… can you forgive me?”