Chapter 4

At seven that evening, two black security vehicles escorted Dante and Rosalie back to the Visconti estate.

I had just placed the last of my clothes in my suitcase when I heard him call from the sitting room.

“Come out here and sign the settlement.”

On the ebony coffee table lay the accident settlement and a statement prepared by the family’s attorneys.

It claimed my driver had changed lanes without warning at my urging, leaving the car behind us no time to react.

If I signed, Rosalie would face no liability, and no reckless-driving charge would appear in the police system.

“She caused the accident because she was reaching for her phone.”

I pushed the papers back.

“The traffic cameras and dashcam will prove it.”

Rosalie’s eyes reddened at once.

“Vivienne, I know this was my fault. But I’m racing in the Visconti Foundation’s European vintage-car charity rally next month. If I get a reckless-driving charge, I’ll never compete again.”

She had loved racing since university.

Our father considered it too dangerous for her, but I talked him around, took responsibility for her safety, and stayed with her through every closed-course training session that first year.

The night she won her first event, she had cried in my arms and promised that when she reached the top of the podium, the trophy would be mine.

Now she was willing to sacrifice my future to get there herself.

Dante placed a black-and-gold pen engraved with the Visconti crest beside my hand. He rubbed his temples, exhaustion written across his face.

“Your place in the final is already gone. Holding Rosalie responsible won’t bring it back, but she still has a chance to race next month. There’s no reason for both of you to lose everything.”

“Sign, and I’ll have the family foundation build you a private studio.”

“Once you’re my Donna, you’ll have anything you could ever want. Why are you so hung up on this?”

There it was again.

My keepsakes, my work, my dreams—everything had a price in his eyes.

As long as he paid enough, he expected me to swallow the hurt and keep quiet.

“I won’t sign.”

Dante looked away, avoiding my eyes.

For several seconds, neither of us spoke.

Then, as if he had finally made up his mind, he picked up his phone and called the caporegime in charge of the family’s properties.

“Shut down Vivienne’s old workshop. Clear it out tonight.”

I stared at him in disbelief.

After my foster mother died, she had left the workshop to me.

She had repaired and designed jewelry there for years to keep our family fed.

Years earlier, when I feared a developer would demolish the workshop, Dante had bought the entire block simply to make me smile again. The land remained under a Visconti holding company, but he had promised the workshop would always be mine.

Every sketch my foster mother had ever drawn was still inside, and those pages had inspired my competition piece.

“My foster mother left that place to me!”

“Then the choice is yours.”

Dante ended the call and set his phone on the table. His gaze stayed on me, and for one brief moment, regret flickered across his face. Then he forced it away.

“Sign, Vivienne, and no one will touch the workshop. Our engagement party will proceed as planned.”

Rosalie caught his arm.

“Dante, don’t force her.”

She turned, dropped to her knees before me, and seized my hands.

“I destroyed your work. I’ll pay for it.”

“But this race is my last chance to qualify. You’ve always supported me, Vivienne. Please, help me one more time.”

One of them knelt and begged.

The other sat and threatened.

Neither asked whether what I had lost had been my last chance too.

He checked his watch.

“You have one minute.”

My phone rang.

The elderly caretaker at the workshop sounded frantic.

“Miss Sinclair, Visconti men are here with guns. They say the Don ordered the building cleared tonight.”

“Your foster mother left so many drawings. They’re carrying everything outside, and it’s raining. What am I supposed to do?”

I clutched the phone and rushed for the door.

Dante blocked my path.

He stood before me, broad-shouldered and unyielding.

Once, that body had shielded me from every danger.

Now he was the wall closing off my only way out.

“Sign it.”

“You promised me you would protect that workshop!”

“And I promised Rosalie she would race.”

His jaw tightened. I saw the hesitation in his eyes, the part of him that wanted to reach for me. But his promise to Rosalie won, as it always did.

“Vivienne, don’t make this difficult for me.”

So I was the one who had to be sacrificed.

Thunder rolled beyond the windows.

A video came through moments later.

The workshop door had been torn off.

My foster mother’s drawings had been packed into unsealed cardboard boxes and stacked beside a truck in the rain.

Loose pages scattered in the wind, their ink bleeding beneath the downpour.

“Tell them to stop.”

Dante pushed the pen toward me.

“Sign.”

I stared at the drawings that could never be restored as tears struck the papers in front of me.

My hand shook so badly that I could not bring the pen to the page.

Then another drawing lifted into the storm.

I signed.

Every stroke felt like another piece of me giving way.

The instant I finished, Dante took the document and ordered his men to stand down.

“You should have done that from the start.”

He reached to wipe my tears.

I turned my face away.

Rosalie was still on her knees, crying softly.

“Vivienne, I’m sorry.”

I removed my engagement ring and placed it in her palm.

There was nothing left in me to fight for.

“You don’t have to apologize anymore. You can have everything you want.”

The man I had loved for four years.

The place beside him as Donna.

The home I had once believed would be mine.

Dante’s drew a slow breath and spoke with deliberate patience.

“Vivienne, the workshop is safe now. No one will touch it. Stop being angry.”

He picked up the ring and held it out to me.

“Our engagement ceremony is the day after tomorrow. I’ve already had the family vault opened. You’ll wear my grandmother’s blue-diamond necklace, and the gown from Milan will arrive tomorrow.”

I almost told him there would be no ceremony, but the words never left my lips.

Even now, he still thought this was about a ring, a necklace, or a dress.

Something in my silence unsettled him. Unease flashed across his face, and he reached for my wrist as if he could keep me there by force.

Before his fingers touched me, Rosalie whimpered behind him.

“Dante, my hand hurts. I think the cut has opened again.”

Fresh blood was already seeping through the bandage around her wrist.

Dante went rigid. His eyes moved from her hand to my face, and for several seconds, he hesitated.

Then, once again, he chose her.

He caught Rosalie by the shoulders and guided her toward the door.

“I’m taking her to the clinic. Vivienne, we’ll finish this conversation when I get back.”

I nodded.

Dante paused as if he wanted to say something more, but Rosalie cried out and tightened her grip on his sleeve. He turned away with her.

I watched them disappear through the door, then pulled my suitcase and let out a quiet laugh.

I would not be here when he returned.

Their ten years belonged to them. I was done trying to force my way into the space between them.

I boarded my flight to London. Before takeoff, I removed the SIM card from my phone and snapped it in half.

Goodbye, Dante.