Everyone said the same thing: the revered Godfather of Sicily's jewelry empire never lied, that he loved me with every fiber of his being, heart and soul laid bare.
But now, those words made my stomach turn. Every syllable drove into me like a needle through flesh.
I thought of the plan I'd just agreed to with that man. I steadied myself, forcing the hatred and trembling back down into the pit of my chest.
Expressionless, I helped a dead-drunk Samuel into the armored sedan.
He collapsed against my lap, the permanent furrow between his brows finally smoothing out. Stripped of his cold calculation, he looked almost harmless. Like a child.
"Selene... why... why can't it be me..."
The slurred murmur drifted up, and my entire body went rigid. I finally made out the name he'd been whispering through countless midnight dreams.
Selene Blanc. The woman who destroyed my mother. Who destroyed everything I had. The same woman who'd bullied me relentlessly, who dragged me into the dark. She was the moonlight he'd carved into his bones, the one he kept hidden in the deepest chamber of his heart.
Samuel had never forgotten her. Five years of tenderness and devotion had been nothing but a performance, a farce staged for Selene's benefit.
My mother's death. The collapse of my family's empire. The lie of my marriage. All of it was a show, orchestrated by my ex-fiancé and my husband to please Selene Blanc. My entire family had been nothing more than stepping stones.
I'd been too naive. Too stupid. I'd underestimated the depth of his obsession with her and foolishly mistaken this con for salvation.
A custom cufflink studded with tiny diamonds slipped from the lapel of his perfectly pressed suit and rolled onto the floor mat.
As I bent to pick it up, my gaze caught the tablet he'd tossed aside. The screen lit up on its own, and an encrypted message flashed across it. Every word burned:
"Godfather Rowe, thank you so much for pulling strings and securing the exclusive premier booth at the International Jewelry Expo for me! But the raw gemstone vein in Sicily that you've promised is far too precious. I feel terribly guilty accepting it and truly don't know how to repay you!"
The tablet jumped to a private feed. Selene's post glared back at me: "Only a true queen of jewelry deserves the world's most precious raw gemstone vein."
The photo showed her diamond-laden hand caressing a pigeon blood ruby of extraordinary color. It was Sicily's rarest mineral treasure, the kind every jeweler alive would kill to possess.
I knew exactly what Selene was doing. She'd meant for me to see all of this.
Last week, Samuel had pulled three consecutive all-nighters to close what he called a "jewelry partnership." The red veins in his eyes were impossible to hide, and a rival's hired man had slashed a deep gash across his wrist. When the wound bled through his bandage, he hadn't even flinched.
I'd been heartbroken and furious, scolding him for not taking care of himself. I thought he was fighting for the family's jewelry legacy. I thought he was doing it to keep me safe.
It had all been for Selene. To win her that expo booth. To lay that precious gemstone vein at her feet. Even if it ground him down to nothing, he'd done it gladly.
As if possessed, my fingers drifted to the tablet's lock screen. A string of numbers punched themselves in, almost by instinct.
The last digit landed. The screen unlocked.
The passcode was Selene Blanc's birthday.
Samuel never let me touch his personal tablet. He said it was a rule for the Godfather of Sicily, that it contained core family secrets. Now I understood. There were no secrets. He was just afraid I'd glimpse the devotion to another woman hidden inside.
The home screen was a photo of Selene in profile. She stood in a jewelry showroom, beaming, her features bright with playful elegance.
No wonder his eyes always softened when he unlocked the tablet. That tenderness had never been for me.
My hands trembled as I opened the file folders. Every single one was named after Selene Blanc. Rows and rows of albums, so many they made my vision swim.
[Selene — Jewelry Expo]
[Selene — Gala Outfits]
[Selene — Raw Gemstone Tastings]
Photo after photo. Selene in couture gowns. Selene draped in dazzling jewels. Selene glowing at one grand jewelry event after another.
Over a thousand photos. Not a single one of me. Not even one of himself. From first to last, only Selene.
Just like his heart. From beginning to end, it had only ever belonged to her. I was nothing but a passing stranger, a tool for easing his guilt.
The car rolled through the gates of the Castle. I stared at the familiar grounds through the window and felt cold seep into every bone.
My gaze drifted toward the estate's private gallery. That room had once held my mother's life's work: countless jewelry design manuscripts, along with the brand's irreplaceable collection of vintage raw gemstone samples. They were the testament to everything she'd built, year after year, from a young woman to an old one, pouring her soul into a jewelry empire.
Every time I looked at those manuscripts and stones, I felt she'd never really left. She was still beside me, helping me guard her dream.
Then one morning two years ago, all of it vanished. The manuscripts. The gemstones. Gone without a trace. The police investigated and concluded that everything had been anonymously destroyed. No leads.
I'd broken down completely. Samuel held me for three days and three nights without closing his eyes, murmuring comfort, promising he'd recover everything. He swore he'd protect my mother's legacy.
Now I finally understood. The one who destroyed it all had always been him. He was the one who'd obliterated the last thing my mother left me, who'd severed the final thread connecting me to her.
The tablet screen lit up again. A new encrypted message appeared, driving through my last shred of hope like an ice-tipped blade:
"Godfather, per your instructions, the asset transfer agreement has been drafted. All Sicily jewelry holdings under your name—including the raw gemstone veins, the jewelry ateliers, and the international distribution rights—will be transferred in full to Miss Blanc."
"Awaiting your final signature."
Through the blur of tears, I saw it again: my mother's funeral. Samuel in a somber, immaculate black suit, standing before her casket, making his solemn vow to me.
"Lois, I swear on my honor as the Godfather of Sicily's jewelry empire. I will protect you for the rest of my life. I will give you a safe and stable home. Everything under my name is yours."
How laughable. How bitterly ironic.
Those earnest promises had been nothing but another carefully woven lie.
Samuel, did you forget? Those assets once belonged to me. Without my signature, I'd love to see how Selene Blanc plans to get her hands on any of it.
