Alessia POV:
"Get on your knees and apologize to your sister right now!" Marco's roar echoed through the lavish Beverly Hills banquet hall, the sheer volume of his voice making the crystal chandelier above us vibrate.
That was Marco Salinas. A dictator in his own home. In this family, I was always the guilty party, the one who had to bend, the one with no bottom line.
Chiara stood a few feet away. Her eyelashes fluttered violently. Her knees suddenly gave out, and she collapsed backward.
It was her favorite survival tactic. Whenever she played the weak victim, I was the one who bled for it.
Dante's body reacted before his brain did. His long arm shot out, his muscles contracting as he caught Chiara by the waist. Seven years of protecting her had turned his responses into pure muscle memory.
Chiara rested her head against Dante's solid chest. She let out a pained gasp, squeezing two pathetic tears from the corners of her eyes.
Isabella let out a shrill scream. She grabbed the hem of her haute couture gown and lunged toward Chiara.
She shoved me out of her way. The force of Isabella's hands hitting my shoulders made my heels stumble against the thick Persian rug. She had never looked at me as a human being. To her, I was just a mobile blood bank.
I steadied myself. I did not lower my head. I did not apologize. Seven years of my people-pleasing persona died right there on that expensive rug. I just stared at the circus in front of me with a cold gaze.
Marco marched up to me. He raised his right hand, the air whistling as his palm swung toward my face.
I raised my arm. My fingers clamped down on his wrist with precise, brutal force. My knuckles turned white.
Marco's eyes widened in shock. He tried to yank his arm back, but his pampered muscles were no match for the strength I had built in secret.
I let out a short, cold laugh. I twisted my grip and shoved his arm away. Marco stumbled backward, his hip crashing into the edge of the dining table.
The surrounding California socialites gasped. The room filled with the buzzing sound of their disdainful whispers.
Dante handed Chiara over to Isabella. His face darkened as he closed the distance between us. His towering frame blocked the light, his mafia aura sucking the oxygen out of the air.
"Stop acting crazy," Dante warned, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "Apologize to your elders right now."
He was so used to controlling everything. He actually thought my rebellion was just a desperate plea for his attention.
I tilted my head up. I met his deep blue eyes, my gaze completely empty of the love that used to live there.
I reached out. My movements were slow, deliberate, and entirely provocative. I grabbed the knot of his silk tie and adjusted it.
Dante froze. His chest stopped moving for a full second. A complicated emotion flickered in his eyes at the sudden intimacy.
I leaned in close to his ear.
"You hold a liar in your arms and treat her like a treasure," I whispered, my voice dropping to a freezing temperature. "You are just a pathetic blind man."
Dante's pupils contracted violently. His breath hitched, and his hand twitched, reaching out to grab my arm.
I sidestepped smoothly, avoiding his touch. I turned my back on him and walked toward the massive carved wooden doors of the hall.
"Sister," Chiara called out weakly from behind me, her voice dripping with fake forgiveness.
I did not stop walking. I did not even grant them a glance over my shoulder.
Two Salinas bodyguards stepped into my path, using their bulk to block the exit.
I opened my clutch. I pulled out a silver switchblade. The metal snapped open with a sharp click, the blade catching the chandelier's light. It was the weapon I carried when I lived in the slums, the weapon I needed again today.
The bodyguards looked at my eyes. They saw the absolute lack of hesitation in my stare. They stepped aside.
I pushed the heavy doors open. The cold Los Angeles night wind rushed into the stifling hall, hitting my face.
Dante stood frozen in the center of the room. I could hear his breathing turn ragged as a sudden panic gripped his throat.
I paused at the threshold. I turned my head slightly, letting the cold wind whip my hair across my face.
"Dante, go to hell with your fools."
