Chapter 4

"It's just a dirty thing someone else wore."

My throat was so raw I could barely make sound, so I spoke softly. "I don't want it anymore. Is that not allowed?"

Sebastian's chest heaved violently, the hand holding the soup bowl trembling.

He slowly crouched, picked up the bracelet, and closed it in his fist.

"Elena. Sofia lent this to you specially. She said you needed it more than she did."

"I don't want it." I closed my eyes. "I don't want things other people gave back because they didn't want them either."

That drove him past his limit.

The shell of gentility shattered completely, exposing something dark underneath.

"You don't want it? Everything you've enjoyed all these years was charity from us! What gives you the right to say you don't want it?"

I felt unexpectedly calm inside, and said mildly:

"Oh. My apologies, then."

That one line set him fully alight.

He straightened, dropped his voice low—which was far more chilling than shouting:

"You need to learn a lesson."

"The pawnshop in the southwest corner of the San Marco old quarter. A brooch left to Sofia by her mother is being held there. Someone seized it. Go get it back."

"Consider it your apology for throwing away this bracelet."

The old quarter was territory the three families had tacitly agreed to leave alone. No rules, no protection.

The wound under my bandages was still seeping blood.

Luca frowned like he wanted to speak.

But Sebastian glanced at him, and he didn't say a word.

Fair enough. They thought slitting my own throat was a play for sympathy. A performance.

It wasn't a severed limb. What was stopping me from walking?

"Fine," I said with a nod.

It was deep night when I arrived, my throat still wrapped in gauze, blood already soaked through several layers.

The pawnshop door was locked.

Someone stepped out behind me.

Seven of them, all in identical raincoats.

One of them spoke:

"The godfathers said to teach you some manners."

An arranged punishment.

I drew the knife from my waist.

"That depends on whether you've got what it takes."

After I put down two of them, the third one's club came down on my lower back.

I don't remember how long the beating lasted.

I only remember saying it to myself, over and over:

Last time.

Consider it giving those fifteen years back to them.

By the time I had the brooch, it was nearly dawn.

Covered in blood, left eye swollen shut, probably two broken ribs.

I braced against walls all the way back to the estate, bleeding with every step.

Inside, a party was underway.

The champagne tower stood high, the band was playing.

Sofia stood at the center of the crowd, wearing my dress.

Sebastian was raising a glass, announcing:

"From today, Sofia officially becomes the princess recognized by all three families."

Everyone applauded.

And my appearance stopped every sound in the room.

Luca frowned first. "Look at the state of you. There's not a shred of dignity left."

Every gaze in the room landed on me. Distaste. Impatience. Enjoyment of a spectacle.

Not one person asked where I was hurt.

I looked at none of them.

I walked straight up to Sofia and placed the brooch in her palm.

She recoiled as if scalded, pulling her hand back in flustered gratitude, a flicker of triumph passing through her eyes.

"Sister... you didn't have to go yourself... I really don't blame you."

She paused, her voice going softer:

"If you did this to yourself so they'd feel sorry for you... there was really no need."

I couldn't be bothered watching her perform. I turned and left.

Behind me, Sebastian and Luca were shouting at me. I didn't hear a single word.

I walked into the storage room in the estate's back courtyard—my new accommodations, as they'd arranged—and locked the door behind me.

I felt under the pillow for the Browning.

Still there.

They probably figured someone who was only performing would never actually pull the trigger.

The moment the muzzle touched my temple, I felt lighter than I ever had.

Then Luca's voice came from outside the door.

"Elena, open the door. I have something to say to you."

I opened my mouth and no sound came out.

The wound in my throat wouldn't even let me manage a single "get lost."

Sebastian said impatiently:

"Leave her. She's throwing another tantrum, playing pitiful. We've indulged her past all reason."

Luca was silent a long time.

Long enough that I thought he might break down the door.

But in the end, the footsteps receded, step by step.

I smiled and squeezed the trigger.

Bang.

My soul drifted up, weightless.

I hovered in midair, looking down at my body on the floor.

Blood welled from my temple and spread over my wedding ring where it had fallen.

I'd finally done it.

The door was kicked open.

Luca charged in, Dante and Sebastian behind him.

"Elena, you again—"

His voice cut off dead.