When it was time for the new instructress to address the families gathered under the Moretti banner,
Bianca stepped forward, the microphone in her hand, her gaze sharp and piercing as it landed on me like the tip of a blade.
"Today," she said with a smile that widened a half-second too late to be real, "my words are about self-respect and self-love. And now, I'd like to share a short film the benefactor's Family has prepared."
The moment her words fell, my scream tore through the courtyard.
On the three-story LED screen, the one the Don himself had gifted the girls' academy as a show of Moretti generosity, the film began to play.
It was that film. The one that should never have seen the light of day.
My naked body lay on a mottled bed, writhing under the lash of three long whips.
Welts and bite marks littered my skin.
Blood seeped into the once-pristine white sheets, turning them a sickening shade of red.
The pain surged again, not from my body, but from my soul, as if a thousand insects crawled beneath my skin, gnawing away.
Before I could even react, a harsh slap struck my cheek.
A mother beside me pointed at my face, shrieking, "How dare a woman like you set foot in a girls' school? You shameless whore. It's revolting."
Another hand yanked my hair, dragging me from my seat and throwing me to the floor.
Voices thundered above me, raining down curses like stones.
"Your father gave up the standing he bled for, the respect the old men owed him, all of it, because of this filth. Your mother died holding his ashes. And you? You still have the audacity to live? You should have been buried with them."
"You slut. A disgrace to the whole territory. You deserved every second of that torture."
I curled up, numb, as fists and feet landed again and again.
Compared to the night the film was made, this was nothing.
Then Bianca stumbled forward, her voice trembling with false concern.
"Adriana, I... I'm sorry. I don't know how this happened. Someone must have switched the film."
She reached to shield me from the blows, muttering apology after apology, one hand pressed flat against her stomach as though the tenderness were real.
But in her tear-glossed eyes, pride sparkled like glass shards.
She wasn't sorry.
She was victorious.
As the daughter of the Thornbury Family, allied to the Moretti throne by blood and old debts, no one would question her. No one would dare.
A commotion behind me.
Salvatore came through the crowd, panic written across his face as he pulled me into his arms.
"Adriana. Why are you here? Didn't I tell you to wait at the estate? It's over now, I'm here."
His performance was flawless.
If I hadn't heard everything with my own ears,
I might have believed him again.
Might have melted into that familiar, deceiving embrace.
But the humiliation at that school shattered me all over again.
My mind broke. I screamed at the sight of any man who came near. I thrashed, cried, cowered from terrors no one else could see.
Salvatore held me tightly, tears streaking his face, his voice raw with heartbreak.
But even his sorrow felt like a lie.
Eventually they sedated me and carried me out to the ambulance.
When I opened my eyes, everything was dark. The bitter smell of antiseptic stung my nose.
I realized I was still in the hospital, my wrists and ankles bound tight to the bed. Beyond the door of the ward, muffled voices drifted in.
Salvatore's voice.
"Bianca. Are you satisfied now that Adriana's like this?"
Another voice, low and sweet. Bianca.
"Of course. Marco kept her on a string for eight years. I had to be sure there was nothing left between them. If I hadn't done this, who knows what might have happened."
She sighed.
"It's hard on you too, having to keep a woman like her under your roof. It sickens me every time I think of it. But because of our Families, because of the alliance, we can't be together in this life. In the next, I'll repay you, whatever it takes. Even if I come back as your horse, your ox."
Through the glass door, fogged with condensation, I watched them laugh and lean into each other.
