Elena Vitiello POV:
I pushed open the heavy, soundproof door of the VIP suite at Margaret Private Hospital. The overwhelming smell of industrial bleach mixed with the sickeningly sweet scent of blooming white lilies assaulted my nose immediately.
Sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows, highlighting the hospital bed. Sofia sat propped up against the pillows. She wore a standard hospital gown, her face pale, yet she still possessed that delicate, fragile beauty that made men want to protect her.
Dante sat in the armchair right beside her bed. He held a small paring knife, carefully peeling an apple for her. The look in his eyes was soft, patient, and completely devoted. In five years, Dante had never so much as poured me a glass of water.
At the sound of the door clicking shut, Dante’s head snapped up. The tenderness vanished from his face instantly, replaced by a hard, warning glare that told me to watch my mouth.
Sofia turned her head. The moment she saw me, her large brown eyes lit up like an innocent child's.
She threw the blankets off her legs and tried to slide out of the bed. Dante dropped the knife and the apple on the tray, lunging forward to grab her shoulders and hold her in place.
Sofia ignored his hands. She reached out past him and grabbed my stiff fingers, squeezing them tight. "Elena! Sister!" she cried, her voice dripping with sugar.
Every muscle in my arm screamed to pull away. I forced the corners of my mouth up into a rigid, entirely lifeless smile. "Congratulations on waking up."
Sofia’s eyes welled with tears. She pulled my hand against her soft cheek, rubbing against my knuckles. "It felt like I was in a long, dark dream for five years. I missed you so much."
The door opened again. A nurse rolled a medical cart into the room. She paused, taking in the scene. Her eyes flicked to me, filled with a potent mix of pity and blatant disgust. Everyone in the New York upper echelon knew I was the pathetic stand-in who got dumped.
That look felt like a physical needle sliding under my skin. I couldn't take it anymore. I yanked my hand back hard.
My fingernail brushed against the back of Sofia’s hand.
Sofia let out a sharp, dramatic gasp, pulling her hand to her chest. There wasn't even a red mark, let alone broken skin. But Dante reacted like she had been shot.
He snatched her hand, inspecting it frantically. Then he turned his head, his eyes blazing with fury. "Are you doing this on purpose?" he hissed, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper.
I stood rooted to the spot. My hands dropped to my sides, my fingers curling into the fabric of my trench coat. I looked at the two of them, watching the performance, and refused to offer a single word of defense.
Sofia immediately grabbed Dante’s sleeve, shaking her head with wide, tearful eyes. "Don't be mad at her, Dante. It’s my fault. I was just too excited."
As she spoke, her gaze drifted downward, landing on my collarbone. A flicker of cold calculation passed through her innocent eyes before she tilted her head.
"Oh," Sofia said, her voice breathy and confused. "That necklace looks so familiar."
Dante’s eyes followed hers. The moment he saw the blue sapphire resting against my skin, his face drained of color. He looked like someone had just slapped him across the jaw.
It was the necklace Dante bought me at a high-stakes auction a year ago. He paid an astronomical price for it, making headlines across the city.
Sofia bit her lower lip, looking up at Dante with a wounded expression. "Isn't that the necklace you promised to give me for my twentieth birthday?"
The air in the room turned to concrete. Dante shoved his chair back and stood up. He closed the distance between us in two massive strides, his tall frame casting a dark, oppressive shadow over me.
He reached out and grabbed the thick platinum chain around my neck. "Take it off," he ordered. "Give it back to her."
He pulled. The metal chain dug violently into the sensitive skin of my neck, choking me. A sharp, burning pain flared across my throat as a bright red line formed on my skin.
I stared at him, my eyes wide with shock. He had locked this clasp around my neck himself, telling me it was a thank you for my loyalty.
Dante wouldn't meet my eyes. He leaned down, his voice a low, threatening growl meant only for me. "Don't cause a scene here. Take it off, and I will compensate you later."
The sheer humiliation of his words set my blood on fire. My anger peaked, drowning out the physical pain. I raised both my hands, grabbed the platinum chain, and yanked downward with brutal force.
The metal links snapped with a sharp crack that echoed in the quiet room. The heavy sapphire pendant swung through the air.
I slammed the broken necklace directly into Dante’s chest. The jewels hit his suit jacket and slid down to the floor, clattering against the tiles.
I shot one last, freezing look at Sofia, who was hiding a tiny smirk behind her hand. I turned on my heel and marched out of the room, my footsteps heavy and fast.
The cold air of the hallway hit my face. I reached up, my fingers brushing the burning welt on my neck. The last ember of warmth I held for Dante Moretti died completely.
"Your trash. Keep it."
