SARAHThe next morning started quietly, like any other. Sunlight pushed its way through the curtains, warming the edge of the bed. I was still halfway between sleep and awake when I felt Marco shift beside me. His arm slid around my waist, and I let out a small sigh as he pulled me close.“You’re up early,” I mumbled, still not opening my eyes.He kissed the curve of my shoulder. “I have to meet Maddalena downstairs.”I turned, my eyes half-lidded. “Again?”He nodded. “She wants to go over the family accounts.”I groaned, wrapping the blanket tighter around me. “So, you’re leaving me here. Alone. With her.”He grinned, brushing his nose against mine. “I’ll leave a note on your body. In case they need help identifying what’s left of you.”I gave him a lazy push. “Asshole.”“Hey. You said yes.”“Because you tricked me.”He kissed me again, softer this time. “You like danger.”“Clearly,” I muttered, rolling to my back.He sat up, running a hand through his hair. “If she starts throwing w
MADELENA I stood by the window, smoking slowly. Each drag burned through my chest, but the calm I needed didn’t come.The silence gave space to my thoughts, and right now, they were loud.Marco really was never supposed to end up with someone like Sarah. That was never the plan.Sophia was supposed to be his wife.It wasn’t just a suggestion. It wasn’t some romantic dream. It was built into the very fabric of our families. I had spent years grooming Sophia for this world. I taught her the rules, the lines she could never cross, the ones she could bend when needed. I taught her how to hold a room without shouting. How to smile with power, how to keep her name sharp and her secrets sharper.I trusted her with our bloodline.And Marco? He threw all that away. Chased women that didn’t matter. Women with no roots, no purpose. He liked them pretty and simple. Girls who smiled when he called and left when he got bored.And now this Sarah girl. He married her. Let her into our name. Let her
MADELENA I walked across the room slowly, taking in everything. Every detail. Every corner. My eyes moved from the cheap candles to the smudges on the dresser, then to the small glass table by the window. There were fingerprints on it. A wine glass had left a faint ring. The curtains didn’t even reach the floor. The rug was crooked and thin. Worn edges. No weight. No sense of grounding.It was all wrong.Tasteless.This wasn’t a De Luca home. Not the one I grew up knowing. Not the one we fought to build with blood and silence. No marble, no pride in the bones of this place. Just comfort. Just softness. Just feelings.And I could smell her all over it. Sarah.This is what Marco married into? A house dressed in throw pillows and vanilla candles? Cheap comfort with no soul? The kind of home where rules get talked about, not followed.I moved toward the dresser and ran my fingers across the surface. Dust.She couldn’t even polish furniture right. A maid should know better. And if the mai
SARAHI froze the moment I heard him say it.“Maddalena.”The name felt like a slap. That name. The one Marco had said with this tight kind of smile before. His scary aunt. The one nobody crossed. The one who could walk into a room and silence it without saying a word. I remember once he told me, half-joking but not really, “If she ever comes around, you’ll know. You’ll feel it before she even speaks.”He was right.Now she was standing in front of me.Tall. Dressed in all black. Dark eyes that didn’t blink enough. Chin up like the place already belonged to her.Marco turned to me like it was any other day, like we were just introducing a neighbor.“Sarah, meet my aunt. Maddalena.”I nodded, forcing my mouth into a polite smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”Her eyes flicked to mine like a knife. “In English?” she asked. “I was told you spent time in Italy. And yet you greet me in English?”My face burned. For a second, I forgot how to breathe.I cleared my throat. “Piacere di conoscerla,”
SARAHI woke up slow. No rush. I just laid there for a while, eyes on the ceiling, thinking about nothing and everything. This house… it still felt like home, but not fully. It was familiar, yeah, but there was something in the air, something quiet and cold. Like it was testing me, watching to see if I still fit into it. If I still belonged.I finally pulled myself out of bed, dragging my feet across the rug as I moved around. I started with the small things. Folding the laundry that had been sitting on that chair for two days now. Wiping down the dresser, even though it didn’t really need it. I opened the window and let the breeze roll in. It wasn’t the same as Italy’s breeze. It didn’t carry the smell of sea or vineyard. This one carried traffic and a little dust. But it was air. It was something.Once I finished cleaning up my room, I changed into something light and tied my hair up. I splashed my face, brushed my teeth, went through the motions like muscle memory. Then I walked do
MARCOThe door clicked shut behind me. My shoes hit the floor heavy, muffled by thick carpet. I paused just a second. Took in the office. The same old scent hit me, leather, cologne, aged wood, and something like old books. It hadn’t changed. Everything in its place.Tony stood by the desk, flipping through a folder. His sleeves were rolled up. Jaw tight like he’d been grinding his teeth since morning.He didn’t look up. “Took your sweet time.”I shut the distance slowly. “Was getting used to soft mornings and soft hands.”He smirked, barely. “You mean Sarah?”I reached for the folder. “You trying to gossip or get me briefed?”He let it go easy. “Glad you’re back, boss. It’s been…busy.”I settled into the chair, leather creaking under me. “Start talking.”“Shipment landed clean two nights ago. No eyes, no snags.”“Good. Customs guy?”“Paid well. Didn’t blink. Kept the crates moving.”I nodded and flipped the first page. Numbers, routes, stamps. All standard. “He’ll want more next time