Chapter 2

Marta walked in holding a folded speech.

As she handed it to Matteo, a shy smile played at the corners of her mouth.

"Don, take a look. It's my toast for tomorrow's banquet."

Matteo took the speech, but his eyes stayed on her face.

"You're speaking first at tomorrow's dinner. Nervous?"

Marta lowered her eyes. "With you by my side, I won't be."

As she spoke, her gaze drifted meaningfully toward me.

My fingertips curled.

The one who should give the first toast to the guests at a banquet was the Donna.

And now that honor had gone to Marta.

Marta's flattery clearly pleased Matteo.

He glanced through it and couldn't help but smile.

"No problem. It's well written."

With that, he handed the speech to me. "Claire, you read it too."

The speech was full of everything Matteo loved to hear.

She praised his fairness and authority, thanked him for letting her help me learn the rules of this house.

And she gushed about how I'd finally learned to follow the rules.

My fingertips creased the paper.

"Looks like you really took what I said to heart." Matteo looked at Marta with a smile. "Rules—"

Marta answered on cue: "Are rules."

The two of them exchanged a smile.

"By the way, Claire, you're giving the second toast. You should prepare something too."

I looked up. "Prepare what?"

"Aren't you going to respond to Marta?"

Matteo glanced at me and said casually:

"She's managed the household for you for three years, and some in the family say she's overstepping, even calling her the Donna."

"As the Donna, you should give her the support and respect she deserves."

I looked at him, and suddenly I remembered three years ago.

Marta's father took a bullet for Matteo and died at the docks on the east side of the city.

Matteo promised in front of everyone that he would take care of her for the rest of her life.

He made her my assistant.

I'd just found out I was pregnant then, and he said she would share my workload.

From that day on, she started taking charge of everything that used to be mine.

And I, the Donna, became her puppet on a string.

I asked Matteo why he'd handed my power over to her.

Matteo couldn't have cared less.

"You're pregnant. Your energy should go to the baby from now on. Stay out of family business."

And now he wanted me to sing Marta's praises.

I folded the speech and said quietly, "Okay."

Matteo reached over and tapped my nose.

"You really have been so good lately."

Matteo grabbed his coat and said to Marta, "Come on, I'll drive you back."

"No need," Marta waved quickly. "The driver will take me."

"We can talk business on the way."

Matteo was already holding the door open for her.

As Marta passed me, she deliberately paused for a beat.

His hand landed on the small of her back, shielding her from the half-open door.

She leaned into him and tilted her head up with a smile.

"Don, you're so good to me."

Matteo smiled without a care.

"I swore I'd take care of you for life. This is nothing."

Their laughter drifted in from outside.

I stood there blankly for a while.

If I had a choice, I wouldn't want to stand here alone.

I'd want to go back seven years, to that midsummer night when I first met Matteo.

Even the moon seemed gentler than usual that night.

But the world has no ifs.

For Sandro's sake, I had to learn to be strong.

I sat down and started writing my toast for tomorrow night's banquet.

It was a letter that would never be sent.

And whoever read it would find that it was our last will and testament.

When I capped my pen, I glanced at the clock on the wall.

Ten hours left before I was gone.

The door pushed open again.

Matteo came back with a smile on his lips, as if this were just a calm, pleasant evening.

"Done writing?"

He reached over, took my speech, folded it, and tucked it into his inner pocket.

"I've discussed the business with Marta. Come on, let's pick your dress."

I rose slowly. "Okay."

Matteo took my hand and led me straight to the wardrobe room.

Just looking at his back, for a moment, I thought of the man he was seven years ago.

But only for a moment.

"Let's pick—"

Before he finished, the hand gripping mine went stiff.