Giada POV
Sasha’s shadow fell over me before she even spoke. The humid air of the Solarium seemed to thicken as she stopped by my chair, flanked by her loyal shadow, Mia.
"Let’s see the face that earned the Don's pity," Sasha sneered, her voice dripping with condescension. Without warning, her manicured fingers clamped down on my chin, jerking my head up to face the morning light.
She had prepared a venomous speech, ready to expose the ugly, scarred creature she believed I was. But as the sunlight hit my flawless, pale skin—illuminating the haunting resemblance to Ellen that I no longer bothered to hide—the words died in her throat.
Sasha’s pupils dilated in sheer, unadulterated shock. Her breath hitched. I watched the realization crash over her: the security dossier she had bribed an Associate to see was a complete fabrication. But more importantly, I saw the terror that followed. To accuse me of faking the photo meant admitting she had bypassed the Don's Command to spy on his private files. It was an instant death sentence.
I didn't pull away. Instead, I let a slow, chilling smile curve my lips.
"Careful, Sasha," I murmured, my voice as smooth and soft as silk. "Even the most beautiful roses in this greenhouse have thorns. Grasp them too tightly, and you'll only bleed."
Sasha snatched her hand back as if my skin had burned her. She looked like she had swallowed glass, her chest heaving as she was forced to choke down her fury and confusion. She couldn't strike me, and she couldn't expose me. I had trapped her in her own web.
Before Sasha could recover her composure, a sharp scoff from Mia broke the tension.
"Disgusting," Mia muttered, her eyes darting across the room.
I followed her gaze. Standing near the center of the Solarium, sticking out like a bleeding wound among the elegant velvet and lace of the other women, was Kelsey. She wore a scandalous, nearly transparent crimson slip dress. It was a pathetic, desperate attempt to catch Dante’s eye when he passed by the glass corridors after his meeting with the Consigliere.
Chloe, who had been sitting quietly near the ferns, tilted her head. "Kelsey is certainly brave," Chloe whispered, her tone deceptively sweet, though her eyes gleamed with calculated malice. "That dress is so striking. When the Don passes by, his gaze will be locked solely on her. No one else will even exist in his eyes."
It was a masterful execution. Chloe’s soft words acted like gasoline on an open flame.
Sasha’s head snapped toward Kelsey, the murderous jealousy she couldn't unleash on me instantly finding a new, oblivious target. Kelsey, completely misreading the sudden attention, actually offered Sasha a smug, triumphant wink. She thought she had outsmarted us all.
Then, the heavy, rhythmic thud of Soldati boots echoed from the marble corridor outside. Dante was approaching.
Panic and pure spite twisted Sasha’s features. She would never allow a cheap Collateral to parade herself in front of the Dark Don.
"How dare you?" Sasha hissed, her voice slicing through the quiet chatter of the room. She marched toward Kelsey, pointing a trembling finger at the crimson dress. "To flaunt yourself like a street whore in the presence of the Matriarch is a vile insult to the Blackwell traditions!"
Kelsey’s smug smile vanished, replaced by sudden confusion.
"She needs to be taught respect," Sasha continued, turning toward Geraldine, who sat at the head of the room with a look of profound distaste. Sasha overstepped her bounds, driven by frantic jealousy. "Send her to the East Wing Library. She will hand-copy the *Cosa Nostra Code of Conduct*—all five hundred pages. And she will not eat until it is finished."
"I agree," Mia chimed in immediately. "It’s an embarrassment."
Outside, the footsteps grew louder. The Don was seconds away.
"No!" Kelsey gasped, the reality of her ruined plan crashing down on her. She looked wildly toward the glass doors, then spun toward me, her eyes wide with desperate, frantic terror. "Giada! Tell them! I’m your sister, please!"
I sat perfectly still. I picked up my bone-china teacup, the delicate clink of porcelain echoing softly. I took a slow sip of my Earl Grey, my gaze meeting hers over the rim. My eyes were dead, devoid of a single ounce of mercy.
Geraldine’s lips thinned. She clearly despised Sasha’s presumption, but the Matriarch would never pass up an opportunity to enforce family decorum and protect her son's eyes from trash.
"Take her away," Geraldine commanded with a dismissive flick of her wrist.
Two heavily armed Soldati stepped into the Solarium, grabbing Kelsey by the arms. She thrashed and screamed, her voice echoing off the glass panes as she was dragged backward, the crimson silk tearing against the doorframe. She missed Dante by mere seconds.
I lowered my teacup, savoring the bitter taste of the tea, while the remaining women in the room sat in suffocating silence.
