Chapter 2

The next morning, Moretti pushed open the study door while I was still sorting through the port books.

He had not changed out of last night's suit.

There were faint red veins in his eyes.

"Nothing happened last night, did it?"

He came to stand in front of me, his voice lower than usual.

"Bella was shaking in the car. I took her home and called a doctor. That's why I couldn't get back to the banquet hall."

Then he lifted a hand toward my forehead.

"Why do you look so pale?"

I tilted my head away.

"I'm fine."

Moretti frowned.

"I'll look into that drink."

"They dared to touch you at my banquet. I won't let that slide."

Once, those words would have softened me.

But I had waited until one in the morning for the man who said he would be right back.

His guilt was real.

So was his absence.

Moretti sat across from me, as if trying to ease the tension between us.

His phone lit up then.

On the screen was an emerald necklace from a private auction house, expensive enough that the price barely looked real.

He slid the phone toward me.

"What do you think of this for a birthday gift?"

My fingers stilled.

My birthday was the day after tomorrow.

For years, Bella and I had celebrated together.

Her name always came first on the cake.

Guests always wished her happy birthday first.

I rarely said anything.

Moretti always said Bella was younger and liked a little fuss.

So for one foolish second, I misunderstood.

I thought he had finally remembered that my birthday was coming too.

Then he muttered to himself.

"Would it be too much for Bella?"

I went still.

Then I let out a small, bitter laugh.

How stupid of me.

I looked up at him.

"Do you remember my birthday?"

Moretti paused.

"A few days after Bella's?"

The second he said it, he seemed to realize his mistake. Embarrassment flickered across his face.

"I prepared something for you too."

I did not ask what.

Truthfully, I had stopped expecting gifts from him long ago.

I only wanted to know whether I still had a date of my own in his mind, or whether I would always come after Bella.

Before the meeting, Bella walked in holding Moretti's arm.

She wore a white dress, her throat bare, as if she had already made room for the emerald necklace.

The elders took their seats.

I placed the port deal I had spent three months securing on the table.

Moretti read through the file.

Then he pushed it toward Bella.

"Put this route under her name."

The room went quiet.

Bella widened her eyes.

"But Iris worked on it for so long."

Moretti's tone stayed calm.

"She's the underboss. She doesn't need one more achievement."

"You need something to help you stand."

I sat at his right hand as the taste of last night's wine rose in my throat again.

Bella asked carefully,

"Iris won't be upset, will she?"

Moretti looked at me too.

There was no question in his eyes.

Only habit.

He knew I would nod.

So I did.

In the Valtieri family, the underboss did not embarrass the Don in front of the elders.

Even if that Don had just handed three months of my work to my sister with a few careless words.