Chapter 3

After Raphael left, the room fell silent except for the faint hum of the IV pump.

Before leaving for an emergency business trip overseas, my mother came to sit beside my bed.

“Raphael said you slipped and fell into the fountain,” she said, studying my face. “Is that really what happened?”

The truth rose to my lips.

All I had to do was tell her. She would believe me. She would make all three of them pay.

Then I remembered the knife against my throat. I saw my nanny lying dead in some alley and my father’s mausoleum reduced to rubble.

I had no way of knowing how long the three of them had had men planted among our guards, or how many people inside the Rossi family were already loyal to them. Until I knew whom I could trust, I had to keep the truth to myself.

I dug my nails into my palm beneath the blanket and forced myself to nod.

“I slipped.”

My mother brushed the damp hair from my forehead. The worry in her eyes nearly broke me.

As she turned away, I bit down on my lip and swallowed every word I wanted to call after her.

I had just filled out the ring-sizing form the Capellos had sent over. Blair walked in carrying a bowl of steaming semolina porridge.

The moment she saw that we were alone, every trace of vulnerability vanished from her face.

“I hear you’re making your engagement to that corpse in the Capello mansion official in four weeks.”

She stopped beside the bed and looked down at me.

“So what if he’s the Don? He’s still a vegetable lying in bed waiting to die. You may be the Rossi heiress, but you’ll spend the rest of your life married to a man who might as well already be dead. Do you honestly think sacrificing yourself will make them feel sorry for you?” Her smile sharpened. “Marry him if you want. Raphael and the others will still love me.”

Pale and exhausted, I rested against the pillows and stared at her. I couldn’t even be bothered to react.

My indifference only enraged her.

Without warning, Blair snatched up the bowl and flung the scalding porridge across my face and neck.

“Ah!”

White-hot pain ripped through me the instant it hit my skin.

Blisters rose almost immediately, and my skin turned an angry red. I screamed as sweat soaked my hair.

“Get someone in here! Call the doctor!” I cried, my entire body shaking from the pain.

The door flew open, and Raphael, Matteo, and Luca rushed into the room.

“What happened?”

I thought at least one of them would notice the burns covering my face and neck, but they all went to Blair.

She had already crumpled to the floor. Clutching a shard of the broken bowl, she sobbed uncontrollably.

“I’m sorry... I only wanted to bring Miss Rossi something to eat, but she lost her temper and knocked the bowl out of my hands. It was so hot...”

“Blair!”

Raphael rushed to her and gathered her into his arms. The instant he noticed the tiny red mark on her finger, his breath caught.

“You burned your hand? Someone get a doctor!”

Matteo and Luca crowded around her, their expressions grim.

I pressed my hands to my blistered face and neck, trembling so violently I could barely speak.

“Doctor... Please call the doctor. My face...”

Raphael finally turned toward me. His gaze caught on the burns covering my face, and for a moment, something like concern broke through. Then Blair sobbed, and his expression hardened again.

“Why do you always have to push her this far, Alia?” he said. “Blair came here to take care of you, and you threw scalding porridge at her?”

“I didn’t.” Tears burned in my eyes. “She threw it at me.”

“Enough,” Luca cut in, his voice cold with impatience. “You’ve always been able to withstand more than Blair. Stop turning everything into a battle between the two of you.”

Matteo strode to the doorway and issued a cold order to the staff outside.

“Send every servant in the main house home for the day. If the family doctor comes, turn him away. I’m not letting her turn another minor injury into a reason to have Blair punished.”

“And take her phone until she calms down,” Raphael added, still holding Blair. “Otherwise, she’ll call Mrs. Rossi, twist this into an attack, and have all of us thrown out.”

Then the three of them rushed Blair—and the tiny blister on her finger—to a private hospital.

My skin burned throughout the night.

When I failed to check in with my mother as we had agreed I would every day, she cut her overseas business trip short and returned home the following afternoon.

When she entered my room and saw the infected burns covering my face and neck, her eyes immediately filled with tears. This was a woman who had ruled the Rossi family with an iron fist for years, yet the sight of me nearly shattered her composure.

The doctor was summoned at once. After examining me, his expression turned grave.

“Mrs. Rossi, these are severe burns. There are also traces of a caustic cleaning agent in the wounds. Any longer without treatment, and her face could have been permanently disfigured.”

My mother looked from the burns on my face to the three men. The pain in her eyes hardened into fury.

“Who gave you the right to leave my daughter like this all night?” she demanded.

“Her engagement announcement is less than four weeks away. How is she supposed to stand beside him with her face burned like this? If Alia is left with a single scar, every one of you will pay.”