"You go ahead and see to the Family. I'll be a good girl and wait for you at home."
The relief on his face was almost visible. He had Marco walk me down through the marble lobby himself.
Before I left, he made a point of reminding me that the Mancinis were holding a dinner the next night.
To celebrate Bianca's return.
He was the Don of the Falcone Family, after all. He had appearances to keep up.
To everyone outside the inner circle, Bianca had been away on Family business in the old country. No one ever spoke the word vendetta, or how close she'd come to answering for blood with blood.
I nodded and told him I understood.
I wouldn't break the peace at the table.
Only then did he let me go with an easy mind.
Back home, I took the wedding photo down from the wall and cut it apart, piece by piece, with a pair of scissors.
Then I threw it in the trash.
That night, Lorenzo didn't come home.
Bianca, however, logged back into her old accounts here on this side of the water.
After a long silence, she posted.
A candlelit dinner for two.
The man kept his face out of frame. Only a sliver of wrist showed.
Where a wedding band used to sit, there was nothing.
But you could still see the pale line of it against the surrounding skin.
It was Lorenzo.
I gave her exactly what she wanted and liked the post.
Then I shut off my phone and packed my bags.
Early the next morning, Marco delivered a gown on Lorenzo's behalf. He paused at the threshold, pressed his lips together as he held it out, and said nothing.
I opened it and took one look.
It was a leftover from last season, already discontinued.
That evening, by the time I reached the Mancini estate.
Salvatore had just finished his speech.
He'd handed every shared racket and stretch of territory the Falcones held with the Mancinis over to Bianca. As he spoke he turned the heavy signet ring on his right hand a quarter turn, slow, and every made man in that room understood the matter was closed.
The crowd was thick with envy.
They praised Bianca's luck, two childhood sweethearts, the Don holding her like the most precious thing in the world.
The moment I appeared, every conversation died at once, faces settling into the look of people waiting for a show. Even the clink of crystal seemed to stop.
Lorenzo was busy working the room, soldiers tracking his every move, and he had no time for me.
So Bianca played hostess in his place and drew me up to the terrace, away from the watching eyes.
There, with no one to see, she dropped the act and let her real face show.
Her expression was all mockery and venom.
"Adriana, after all these years, you're still just as useless."
"I spent these three years across the water. Thanks to your husband, I lived better than you can imagine. You don't actually think Lorenzo took you as his wife out of love, do you? Let me be honest with you, if you hadn't signed that pardon, he wouldn't have spared you so much as a glance."
"Adriana, you're nothing but a joke."
Anger flared up inside me, and before I could stop myself, my hand cracked across her face. The sound carried down the stone steps.
A cold smile curled at her lips. She stepped back, quick.
And threw herself down the stairs.
A scream tore through the hall.
Lorenzo was the first to reach her, gathering her into his arms.
He lifted his eyes to me, his gaze burning with rage.
"Adriana, what are you doing? Have you lost your mind?"
"Bianca was kind enough to host you, and you put your hands on her? You said you'd let the past go. What's all this today?"
My face was cold, my voice without a trace of feeling.
"I'm making a scene?"
"Lorenzo, that thing from back then, don't I deserve an explanation from the two of you?"
His brow knit, a flicker of panic crossing his eyes. Two fingers came down once against the stone balustrade.
"Explanation for what? Bianca's spent these three years making it up to you. What more do you want?"
"One thing has nothing to do with another. Whatever happened before, it's no reason for you to lay a hand on her today."
"Adriana, apologize to her. Right now."
Before I could say a word, Bianca was already weeping in his arms, wounded and pitiful, her fingers drifting to her own throat.
"Don't... don't be hard on Adriana. Everything that went wrong back then was my fault. I'm the one who wronged her. Let today make up for it..."
"Since she hates me this much, maybe we just shouldn't be in touch anymore. I don't want to put you in a difficult position."
My nails dug deep into my palms, and blood slid down, drop by drop.
Watching the two of them walk away in each other's arms, I knew we were finished.
