Chapter 3

Lucian and Matteo strode in.

Seeing Chloe on the floor among the broken glass, her hand bright red, Matteo's eyes went cold.

He rushed over, kneeling to pull her into his arms.

When he looked up at me, his eyes were burning with fury. "Seraphina, she came to see you while you're sick. And you do this?"

"I... I dropped the glass..."

Chloe buried her face in Matteo's chest, her tears soaking his shirt. "Don't blame Seraphina. Her face... she's in pain. It's okay if she takes it out on me..."

"You don't have to speak for her," Matteo cut her off coldly. "We're here. You don't have to answer to anyone."

Lucian walked to my bed. His tall frame blocked the light from the window.

He looked at the mess on the floor. His voice was terrifyingly calm. "There's no one else in this room. If you didn't do it, did she burn herself? Apologize."

I looked at him, my chest tight. "I did nothing. Why should I apologize?"

"I'm the one who took the wedding dress," Lucian said, watching me. It sounded like a punishment.

"Chloe was frightened. She saw the dress, she thought it was beautiful, so I let her try it on. If you have a problem with that, take it up with me. Don't take it out on an innocent girl."

My eyes went cold. I looked past him, locking onto Chloe.

That dress was three years of my mother's life.

A symbol of the Bellini matriarch's absolute honor. Now it was her toy.

Chloe flinched under my gaze, shrinking into Matteo's arms.

"Seraphina, I just thought the diamonds were pretty... I'll have it sent right back!"

"Send what back?" Matteo scoffed, his hand smoothing Chloe's trembling shoulder. "It's a dress. You like it? We'll have it tailored for you. As for what she's owed, my cut from the rackets this quarter could buy ten of them."

Lucian stared at my pale face. "Apologize to Chloe. Or the wedding is off. And you forfeit your claim to the inheritance."

He leaned down, his voice low. "The groom's a no-show. Refuses the title of Don. I'd like to see how you and your mother handle the Capos when they come for you. Without us."

He delivered his threat. Then they turned, shielding Chloe as they left.

I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. A single tear escaped, sliding into my bandages, stinging the raw skin.

Lucian, you don't have to be a no-show.

I'm leaving on my own.

I was alone in that hospital for a week.

Seven days. They never came.

But Chloe’s private Instagram was updated constantly.

A private beach in Miami. A luxury yacht in the Caribbean. A candlelit dinner in a Michelin 3-star restaurant they bought out just for her.

In every photo, there was a man’s hand, a Patek Philippe on the wrist, cutting her steak.

Or a man’s black cashmere coat draped over her shoulders.

The latest post: Chloe, wearing the diamond tiara that was supposed to be mine, sitting in a private jet.

The caption: Spoiled after surviving. Thank you for making me feel safe.

I turned off my phone.

This was a sick, twisted game. And I was the collateral damage. I should have walked out years ago.

The day I left the hospital was three days before the wedding.

I wore a black lace mask that covered half my face and returned to the estate alone.

I pushed open the doors. It was a party.

The great hall was full of guests, glittering under the chandeliers. The Capos from all over Chicago, sipping whiskey and talking in low voices.

"Miss Bellini is finally getting married."

"I hear the adopted one, Chloe, is marrying Matteo."

"But why is Miss Bellini wearing a mask? I heard her face was burned in the fire. The rumors must be true..."

I froze in the doorway.

The old butler rushed to my side. He whispered, "Miss Bellini, your mother is in New York on business. Mr. Lucian and Mr. Matteo arranged this party. There were rumors in the crews that Miss Chloe was involved in the kidnapping. They did this to clear her name, to establish her authority. They used your discharge from the hospital as the excuse."

I listened to the cello music. The irony was suffocating.

In my home. In my name. Paving the way for the woman who destroyed me.

"I'm going upstairs to rest. Don't mind me," I told the butler, turning toward the grand staircase.

The jet to Florence was leaving in the morning.

I wasn't going to waste another word here.

"Seraphina!"

A soft voice cut through the crowd.

Chloe, holding two glasses of champagne, blocked the stairs.

She wore a stunning red gown. My mother's ruby necklace was around her neck. She was radiant.

A stark contrast to me, in all black, my face hidden.

"Lucian threw this party for you." She held up a glass, her eyes red-rimmed. "You just got back, and you're leaving already? Are you still mad at me?"

The chatter stopped. Every eye in the room turned to us.

"Don't act with me," I said coldly. "Move."

I stepped around her, onto the marble stair.

Just as I passed, Chloe leaned in and whispered, so only I could hear.

"You know, Seraphina... at the factory... the kidnappers were never going to burn you. It was me. I looked Matteo in the eyes and told him I was scared of fire. That's why he kicked over the drum. To block you in."

My feet stopped. I spun around, staring daggers at her.

Chloe's face instantly twisted into a mask of terror.

Her wrist flipped. The champagne glass fell to the carpet.

At the same time, she grabbed the lace mask on my face. As she fell backward, she yanked it. Hard.