Chapter 2

The next morning, the fog on the lake hadn't lifted before Lydia, flanked by two bodyguards, entered the North Wing.

The Black Rose Ring still sat on her right hand, its black diamond painfully bright in the morning light. Without waiting for an invitation, she settled onto the sofa and took a leisurely sip of coffee. "Did you sleep well last night, Elena? Matteo stayed with me. He went on about how understanding you are and asked me to come check on you."

I flipped through the secret ledger in my hands without looking up. "Seen enough? The door's behind you."

Lydia's expression froze for a split second. She walked to my desk and lowered her voice. "Why so cold? I know you resent me, but love was never about who got the marriage certificate first. You may be the legitimate daughter of the Rossi family, but who gets to sit beside Matteo comes down to who he wants."

I turned a page in the ledger, my fingertip tapping the old-fashioned calculator on the desk. The crisp, rhythmic clicks drowned out her provocation.

Lydia bit her lip and reached for the black ledger on the corner of the desk, the one documenting underground payments. The instant footsteps sounded outside the door, she let go, stumbled backward, and knocked over the ink bottle beside her.

Black ink splashed all over her. She screamed and crumpled onto the carpet, tears spilling over at once.

Matteo had just walked into the study. He crossed the room in two strides and helped Lydia up. "What happened?"

Lydia leaned into his arms, trembling. "Don't blame Elena. It was my fault. I was only trying to help her organize the ledgers. She's probably still upset about last night."

Matteo's face darkened. He turned to me. I was still sitting behind the desk, holding the ink-stained page.

"Elena, Lydia isn't well. If you're angry, take it out on me. There's no need to give her a hard time."

I looked at the way he shielded Lydia behind him. He didn't even have the patience to ask what had actually happened.

"I didn't touch her."

Matteo's frown deepened. "You didn't use to be like this. You were always composed. When did you become so petty?"

Petty.

I lowered my eyes. The page smeared with ink recorded a dock warehouse I had mortgaged years ago to help him secure connections at City Hall.

"If you've decided it was me, then it was me." I set the ledger down and wiped my hands with a handkerchief.

My calm threw Matteo off. He swallowed his anger and continued. "Lydia is shaken. She needs rest. I remember you have a box of imported liver-repair injections in your medicine cabinet. Send them over to her. Her immune system has been terrible lately. She could use them."

That box of injections was the last batch produced by my mother's medical company before it shut down. It was also the medicine keeping the poison in my system in check and the blood vessels around my heart functioning.

I looked at the entitlement on his face and answered flatly. "They're gone."

Matteo's expression turned to ice. "Elena, do you have to throw this household into chaos before you're satisfied? It's just a box of medicine. Do you have to fight her over that too?"

I wasn't fighting. I simply didn't want to give anymore.

I pulled open the drawer, took out the Moretti estate's black ledger and the brass authorization seal, and placed them on the desk. "Since you think I'm petty, I'm done. The estate accounts, the legitimate company expenditures, the fund transfers for the clubs. Let her take over."

Matteo froze. So did Lydia.

Over the past three years, the Moretti Family's public-facing hotels, construction company, and security firm had enormous overhead. Its illicit operations were a bottomless pit. To maintain the Family's prestige, Matteo refused to let outsiders know the finances were stretched thin. Every shortfall had been covered with profits from Rossi Shipping.

He stared at the seal. "Are you threatening me?"

"No. I'm returning what was never mine."

Matteo let out a cold laugh. "Very well. Don't come crying about it later."

He put his arm around Lydia and left the North Wing. Mara's eyes brimmed with tears. "Ma'am, did you really hand over the accounts? What will happen to this household?"

"What happens to this household is no longer my concern."

I tossed the ink-ruined page into the fireplace. The flames leapt across the paper. I watched those numbers crumble to ash and suddenly felt very cold. The residual toxins in my body were about to flare again.