Chapter 3

Every year, around the anniversary of Lorenzo's death, my family would hold a gala for the charitable foundation.

For the past year, I'd been in charge of the foundation's community renovation project from start to finish. The project was badly over budget, the contractors were deliberately dragging out the work, and the whole thing was on the verge of collapse. I renegotiated prices again and again, replaced two sets of suppliers who weren't doing their jobs, and stayed up late revising plans until I finally got the entire project back on schedule.

This gala was supposed to be my first chance to present my results to the senior members of our partner families. My chance to earn my place.

More than that, my father had arranged for Marco and me to stand together and welcome the guests.

For years, both families had assumed our marriage would unite them. To me, this was the first time I'd enter their inner social circle openly as Marco's partner.

I'd spent two weeks preparing the guest list, noting each person's position, title, and business history with our family. Marco and I had gone over every name together to make sure nothing was overlooked.

20 minutes before the gala began, my father called me aside.

"Sophia will greet the guests beside Marco tonight."

For a moment, I was stunned. I thought I'd misheard. "Why?"

"Tonight is about honoring Lorenzo." My father looked over at Sophia, who was adjusting her sleeves. He sounded certain. "She's his daughter. It makes more sense for her to welcome our guests."

I didn't argue with him. I turned to Marco. "You agree with this?"

He was quiet for a moment. "Tonight means a lot to her."

"So I have to give her my place?"

"It's one night." He brushed it off. "Don't make such a big deal out of it."

I handed over the guest list I'd checked so many times and let go. "Then stand there. Both of you."

Sophia came forward to take it. Her voice was soft, almost innocent. "I wasn't trying to take your place."

I looked at her. "But you took it anyway."

She lowered her head, with nothing to say.

When the gala began, I moved to a corner by myself. Marco and Sophia welcomed the guests shoulder to shoulder. They moved together so easily. It hurt to see how well they fit.

An older guest from Chicago, who hadn't kept up with the younger generation in years, studied them and smiled. "I must have missed something. Are the Bellini family and the Moretti family making it official? An engagement to bring you even closer?"

The guests around them joined in, teasing and laughing.

Sophia stiffened, not knowing what to do. I didn't look at anyone else. I watched Marco.

I waited for him to clear it up. All he needed to say was, "You've got the wrong idea."

But he looked at Sophia first. She was embarrassed, and he didn't want to humiliate her. So he smiled and steered the conversation away from the teasing. "Tonight is about the foundation. Let's leave our private lives out of it."

He didn't explain who I was. He didn't correct them. He didn't take a single step toward me.

I held a glass of water without ever raising it. I gripped it tighter and tighter until my fingers went white. A chill crept from my fingertips through my whole body.

Later that evening, Sophia took the stage with the report I'd stayed up writing. When she reached the key figures on the cost adjustments, she stumbled several times, unable to remember the details.

Marco had been standing beside the stage. He stepped forward at once and supplied every number she needed, covering for her without missing a beat.

Applause filled the room. Our partners gathered around to praise her.

"I had no idea the renovation was going so well. You've done wonderful work."

"Looks like we can leave the foundation's next projects entirely in your hands."

Marco stood beside the crowd and said nothing. Not one correction. Not one word to set the record straight.

I waited backstage for Sophia. "Aren't you going to explain?" I asked her outright.

"Explain what?" she said, unbothered.

"I did that project. All of it." I paused, then pointed out the other obvious problem. "And everyone out there thinks you and Marco are a couple."

Sophia looked up at me without tears or excuses, so calm she seemed almost indifferent. "Tonight honors my father. The Moretti family put me there. Marco didn't object. I can't control what people think."

A business partner passing by offered her a business card, eager to make a connection. She took it without hesitation or another word of explanation.

Before I could speak again, I heard my father. A dispute had broken out backstage over the suppliers' bills. It was a mess.

He looked at me as if the answer were obvious. "Elena, no one handles a mess like this better than you. Take care of it."

By the time I'd settled the disputes and straightened out the bills, they'd already taken the group photo at the head table.

After the gala, Anna waited for me in the hall. She handed me the final Ferraro contract. "Are we still listing your father as the witness?" she asked quietly.

I opened it to the right page. My father's name had already been filled in. Beneath it, Marco was listed as my emergency contact for the partnership.

I looked toward the center of the hall. My father had an arm around Sophia's shoulders as he introduced her to the older guests. He told them she was Lorenzo's orphaned daughter and that the Moretti family had cared for her as one of their own for years.

Marco stood beside him, silently backing him up.

I looked down and took out my pen. First I crossed out my father's name. Then I removed all of Marco's information.

"Use my independent lawyer for all of it."

Anna looked up. "You're sure? This cuts your family out entirely. You can't take it back."

I capped my pen. "I'm sure."