Chapter 7

Luca's face darkened at once. "If I hear one more word like that out of your mouth, you're going to catch a bullet."

Demira's eyes reddened further. "It's true!"

"That's enough, Demira," Victor cut her off and frowned at me. "Matteo wouldn't send you something that expensive without a reason. He clearly wants something. You shouldn't accept gifts like that so casually, especially when he feels that way about you."

I fastened the diamond necklace around my throat and said coolly, without even looking at him, "You don't get a say in my life."

Victor watched my indifference, and for some reason it struck him with a sharp, ugly discomfort. His brows drew tighter, but he said nothing.

"Why can't I say it? Why are you defending her?" Jealousy sharpened in Demira's eyes as she snapped at Victor. "It's because of vain women like her that so many innocent people die!"

I hadn't even spoken when Luca lost control. He kicked over the chair beside him, pulled out his butterfly knife, and pointed it at Demira. "You filthy bitch. I'll cut your tongue out."

Demira flinched in terror.

Victor stepped in front of her at once. "Demira's father was a miner. He died in an accident in the mountains. She doesn't mean any harm."

He called it an explanation, but his face was tight, and one hand had already settled near the gun at his back, as if he might draw it at any second.

Demira seemed to take courage from that, and her voice sharpened. "Why is it that miners can't even feed or clothe themselves and end up dying for nothing, while people like you get to wear beautiful diamonds? How is that any different from wearing someone else's blood and bones on your body?"

"I told you to shut up." Luca started toward her, but I stopped him and took the knife from his hand, turning it idly between my fingers.

Then I looked at Demira and let out a cold laugh. "Victor has given you plenty of jewelry too. You smiled every time you took it. Why didn't you think of your father then? And if no one wanted diamonds at all, what exactly would those miners live on?

"Stop pretending you're standing on some moral high ground. If you're jealous, say it plainly. Victor isn't too poor to buy you one."

Demira hadn't expected me to tear through her act so directly. Her face twisted at once, flushing hot with embarrassment.

"You're lying! Why would I be jealous of you? That isn't the same at all!" As she spoke, her eyes reddened again. "After my father died, we didn't even get compensation. They even blamed my family for delaying the shipment. People like you are all monsters."

I watched her performance in silence.

Victor pulled her into his arms, his face full of pity. When he looked at me again, his eyes had gone cold. "Lydia, are you doing this on purpose? You know Demira's father died because of diamonds, and you still flaunt them in front of her. Then you say something this cruel?"

I was so angry I laughed. "If your teenage self could see what you've become, he'd probably shoot himself on the spot."

Victor's face hardened. With Demira in his arms, he kissed away her tears and spoke sharply. "No. The only thing I regret is how I ever ended up with a cold-blooded woman like you.

"Today is the old Don's death anniversary, and here you are, showing off jewelry like you're celebrating. Someone like you—"

"Victor, shut your damn mouth!" Luca snapped. He stormed over and drove a punch straight into Victor's face. "Today isn't just the old Don's death anniversary. It's also Lydia's birthday. Ever since the old Don died, she hasn't celebrated it once. What the hell is wrong with her receiving a gift?"

-

The blow snapped Victor's head to the side. With it, fragments of memory surfaced from somewhere deep in his mind. They came back like shattered glass, scraping across his chest and leaving a thousand fine cuts.

He touched the blood at the corner of his mouth, then looked up and met Lydia's eyes.

For a moment, he couldn't speak.

-

I saw the hesitation in his gaze. I knew he remembered. I also knew his first instinct was to avoid it.

Something in my chest tightened until it became hard to breathe.

I ran my thumb along the handle of the butterfly knife, lost in thought.

The Victor I used to know had always known this was the day I was weakest.

From midnight on, he would stay with me the entire time. He would bring me a gift he had carefully chosen. He would hold me in his arms and never let me shed a single tear.

But the Victor standing in front of me now only knew how to say the cruelest things until they cut me open.

Memory was a vicious thing. Still, it no longer mattered.