Chapter 2

My answer hit him like a balm.

He stepped closer, his lips brushing my ear.

"Isabella, you're finally learning what it means to be a Donna. Liliana is family to me—like a sister. I look out for her. You need to be the bigger person. A woman who can't understand that doesn't belong at my side. Play your cards right, and your place here is safe."

A promise. Delivered like a king tossing crumbs to a beggar.

He expected me to be grateful.

A frantic knock shattered the moment.

"Vincenzo!" Liliana's syrupy voice filtered through the door. "My heart's acting up again. Can you please come sit with me?"

The warmth in his arms evaporated. He turned toward the door without a second thought.

But he paused at the threshold, glancing back.

"Charity gala tomorrow night. I'm taking Liliana. She doesn't have a dress. Have that 'Starlight' gown of yours taken to her room in the morning, and get a tailor to adjust it."

I felt the air leave my lungs.

The Starlight gown. The one he'd commissioned from a French designer five years ago, when we'd first gotten serious. Nine hundred and ninety-nine diamonds sewn into the train. I'd treated it like a holy relic—I'd even fired a maid who tried it on without permission.

Vincenzo had backed me up that day. He'd said, "A Donna's things are sacred."

Now he was handing it over to her.

My nails bit into my palms so hard I almost drew blood.

I met his self-satisfied gaze and nodded slowly.

"Okay. I'll have it sent over in the morning."

He held my eyes for a long moment, then walked out. I heard him cooing to Liliana in the hall, the soft click of a door closing down the corridor.

I went to my desk, pulled out a calendar and a red marker, and drew a heavy X over today's date.

Two days to go.

The next morning, I had the gown delivered to Liliana's room, just as he'd asked.

She left the door wide open. As I walked past, I saw her twirling in front of the mirror, the gown hanging off her like a tent.

She grabbed a pair of scissors and hacked off the most intricate section of the diamond-encrusted train.

"So dated," she drawled to the seamstress. "It'll look much better shorter."

The tailor glanced nervously at me in the doorway, then looked down at her feet.

I walked on without stopping.

Downstairs, the butler stopped me, reminding me that Vincenzo's stomach was acting up again after a rough night of drinking. I'd been making his herbal soup for seven years. It was second nature now.

I figured this might be the last time I'd ever do it. So I went to the kitchen, made the soup, and carried it toward his study.

The door was cracked open. I could hear him talking to Dominic, his Consigliere and oldest friend.

I was about to knock when Dominic's voice drifted out.

"Vincenzo, don't you think you're pushing too hard? The ring, the necklace, now the Starlight gown? Isabella's been with you for seven years. You're going to break her."

I froze.

Vincenzo's voice cut through, cold as steel.

"Break her? Where's she gonna go? She's a nobody. An orphan. Without the Morettis, she's got nothing."

"I've let her get away with too much. She's gotten too full of herself. She needs to be put back in her place. I'm just reminding her who's in charge. When she finally gets the message, she'll have a comfortable room here and a roof over her head. That's more than someone like her deserves."

Dominic sighed. "And if she actually gives up on you?"

Vincenzo laughed. "Give up? She's like a damn vine—she's been clinging to me her whole life. She can't survive without me. Without me, she's nothing."