Chapter 3

The echo of that slap hung in the air.

I held my burning cheek and looked at the broken pieces of the music box on the floor.

Each shard of crystal reflected the cold light, like a piece of Lucia's shattered life.

"Clean up this mess," Alessio ordered coldly. "Then prepare dinner. Our family is eating together tonight."

Trash.

He called Lucia's most beloved treasure trash.

I knelt, my hands shaking, and carefully gathered every single piece. Maybe I could fix it. Maybe I could hear Lucia's song again.

But I knew some things, once broken, can never be repaired.

Like my heart. Like my family. Like my dead daughter.

"Isabella." Alessio's voice was above me. "Stop making a scene. It's just a music box."

Just a music box. Just like Lucia was just a daughter, an existence that could be sacrificed.

I stood up, holding the broken pieces, and walked toward the stairs without a word.

"Where's Lucia?" Alessio suddenly asked. "I want her to come down and meet Marco and Mike."

My feet froze.

"She's resting."

"Resting? At this hour?" His voice was laced with impatience. "Go get her."

"She's not ready." My voice was trembling. "That 'training' took a lot out of her."

"All the more reason for her to get up and move around," he said, striding toward the stairs. "I'll get her myself."

"No!" I blocked his path like a cornered lioness. "She doesn't want to see anyone!"

Alessio frowned. "What do you mean?"

"She's... sick," I stammered, scrambling for an excuse. "A fever. The doctor said she needs to be isolated."

"When did this happen? How come I don't know?"

"Right... right after you left." My lie was paper-thin, but it would have to do. "She caught a chill in the icehouse."

Alessio was silent for a moment, then seemed to accept it with a nod. "Then let her rest. She should be fine by tomorrow."

Tomorrow.

If he knew the truth, there would be no more tomorrows in his world.

I rushed back to my room and locked the door. My heart was pounding. The plan had to start now.

I took out my phone and first dialed the number for Antonio, the family Consigliere.

"Consigliere's office."

"It's me, Isabella. I need to see Antonio. It's urgent."

"Mrs. Moretti." The voice on the other end became instantly respectful. "Antonio is free this evening. Where would you like to meet?"

"The old place. One hour."

After hanging up, my hand hovered over another contact: 'Father'.

My family, the Falcones, had always looked down on the Morettis' brutish, violent methods. We preferred to use money and power to silently choke the life out of our rivals.

My marriage to Alessio was meant to be a bridge between our two worlds. A bridge he had just doused in gasoline and set ablaze.

I dialed the number. "Father," I began, my voice so steady it surprised me, "it's time for Alessio to repay his debt to our family."

On the other end, my father's voice was hard as steel. "Tell me what you need."

Just as I placed the last essential item in my suitcase, there was a soft knock on the door.

"Isabella?" It was Cassandra. "Can we talk?"

I opened the door. She stood in the hallway, a look of fake concern on her face.

"Are you leaving?" She spotted the suitcase behind me.

"None of your business."

"I think there's been a misunderstanding between us," she said, stepping into the room and closing the door behind her. "About Marco and Mike going missing."

I stopped what I was doing and stared at her, my eyes cold.

Her expression twisted into a smirk as she dropped the act. "Did you really think I didn't know my parents took them?" she sneered, sitting on my bed. "I knew a day in advance."

The blood in my veins turned to ice.

"What?"

"I deliberately kept Alessio in the dark." She crossed her legs, the picture of smug satisfaction. "I wanted to see what he'd do to you—the barren wife who couldn't give him a son."

"You... you knew what would happen..."

"What did I think would happen? That your precious Lucia would get a time-out?" She shrugged dismissively. "I just didn't think Alessio cared so much about me that he'd actually lock your precious daughter in an icehouse over it. Consider it a lesson."

The volcano of rage inside me finally erupted.

"You vicious bitch!"

I lunged at her, but she was ready. She screamed and jumped back.

"Don't touch me!" she shrieked, her voice loud enough for the whole house to hear. "Help! She's trying to kill me!"

I had barely pushed her, but she threw herself backward, tumbling down the stairs with theatrical screams before landing with a sickening thud on the marble floor below.

"Cassandra!" Alessio's voice boomed from downstairs.

I ran to the top of the stairs and saw her lying on the floor, blood seeping from a gash on her forehead.

But from an angle no one else could see, her eyes glinted with triumph.

"She pushed me!" she cried weakly, pointing at me. "She tried to kill me and my baby!"

Baby?

"You're pregnant?" Alessio yelled, rushing to her side before looking up at me with murder in his eyes.

"Three months," she whimpered. "I was going to tell you, but..."

Another heir.

"Isabella! Get down here!" Alessio roared.

I walked slowly down the stairs, each step like walking on knives.

"She admitted it," I said calmly. "She knew where Marco and Mike were the whole time. She set me up."

"Enough!" Alessio's eyes were filled with disgust. "You're so jealous you've lost your mind! You'd attack a pregnant woman?"

"I didn't push her! She—"

"She threw herself down the stairs?" he sneered. "Isabella, do you take me for a fool?"

"She's trying to frame me!"

"Frame you?" His voice turned lethal. "You think the whole world is against you?"

"Not the world, just her!" I pointed at Cassandra. "She admitted it! She wanted Lucia to be punished!"

"That's enough!" Alessio stood up and advanced on me. "If you slander her again, I swear to God I will carve your name on a headstone in the family plot myself."

A naked threat. He was threatening to kill me.

"And what about Lucia?" I lifted my chin, meeting his gaze. "Will you be carving her name on a headstone, too?"

"What did you just say?"

"She's dead, Alessio." The tears finally broke free. "Your daughter is dead. And you, you killed her."

"Shut your mouth!" He raised his hand to slap me again. "Don't you dare curse us with such filth! Lucia is upstairs resting!"

"A curse? You think this is a curse?"

I reached into my handbag for the death certificate. My hands were shaking so badly that the bag slipped from my grasp, its contents scattering across the floor.

Curious, Cassandra picked up the folded document from the pile.

"What's this?" she asked, unfolding it. She began to read aloud: "Certificate of Death... Name: Lucia Moretti..."

Her voice trailed off into silence.

The color drained from Alessio's face, leaving it the color of ash.