There wasn't a shred of guilt on Serafina's face. If anything, she looked pleased with herself, watching me like she was waiting for me to lose it.
But I just stared at her, expressionless. I didn't say a word.
Serafina rolled her eyes, bored by my lack of reaction, and stepped aside to let me through. A nasty smile curled at the corner of her lips. "Watch your step, sis. Wouldn't want you to throw out your back."
My gaze dropped. I caught her foot sliding out to trip me.
Every humiliation, every degradation I'd swallowed over the past few days surged through me at once. I lifted my foot and brought it down hard.
"Ahhh!"
Serafina shrieked and crumpled to the marble floor, clutching her foot.
Vittorio came down the stairs from the upper landing, still fastening his cufflink. "What happened? Serafina, what's wrong—"
Before I could get a word out, Serafina beat me to it. "I was being nice and opened the door for her, and she didn't even appreciate it. She stomped on my foot on purpose!"
Vittorio's face went black. He didn't ask a single question. "Bianca. Apologize."
Again.
No questions asked. Just apologize.
I looked at Vittorio in silence.
It didn't matter what I said. He would never believe me. So I said nothing at all.
Vittorio's jaw tightened. "Looks like you don't need those legs of yours."
The words had barely left his mouth before two soldiers stepped forward, one on each side, pinning me in place.
A third raised a baton and brought it down on my kneecap. The pain was blinding. My legs buckled and I hit the floor, cold sweat pouring down my face. I bit down so hard my teeth nearly cracked, but I refused to make a sound.
Something in my silence set Vittorio off. His voice turned brutal. "Fine. You want to play tough? Let's see just how tough you really are."
He ordered the soldiers to throw me into the walk-in freezer off the estate's kitchen.
Vittorio stood at the freezer door, his eyes colder than anything inside it.
"Stay in there and cool off, Bianca. You can come out when you're ready to admit you were wrong."
The cold ate through my skin, my muscles, my bones. I could feel my body temperature dropping, degree by degree.
I didn't want to die in here.
I was so close. So close to getting out.
I tried to call for Vittorio, but my throat wouldn't produce a sound.
When I opened my eyes again, I was tied to a bed.
Vittorio stood beside it in a black three-piece suit, his expression glacial. His signet ring sat perfectly still on his knuckle.
"Tonight is Serafina's birthday dinner. I won't let you ruin it."
"So your solution is to tie me up like a prisoner?"
I stared at him in disbelief.
A sharp, hollow ache bloomed behind my ribs.
Vittorio didn't deny it. All he said was, "Be good. Once tonight is over, I'll make it up to you."
He turned to leave. I called out before he reached the door.
"Vittorio. You promised me once that you'd give me a villa. Do you remember?"
His body went rigid for a split second. Then he turned back to face me. "I remember. Have you decided which one?"
I nodded quickly. "Yes. I already drafted the papers. They're in the second drawer of this nightstand."
"Just sign them, and I promise I won't cause any more trouble. Deal?"
Vittorio didn't think twice. He pulled the papers from the drawer, scrawled his signature, and set them back on the nightstand.
He never noticed the severance papers and the asset-transfer agreement tucked in with them.
He didn't even glance up. "Done. Remember what you said."
Then he turned and walked out.
Ten minutes after the door closed, I pulled out the razor blade I'd hidden and began sawing through the ropes, strand by strand.
The moment I was free, I called a moving crew and told them to pick up the boxes I'd packed days ago.
At the same time, I grabbed the signed dissolution papers and the other documents, tracked down Marco, collected every photograph he'd taken over the past few days, and went straight to Matteo. I handed over everything.
I booked a flight to Thornridge, climbed into a cab, and pulled the second SIM card out of my phone.
Vittorio had bought it for me.
Back when he wanted to make sure he could always reach me, that I'd never be out of contact, never beyond his hand.
I didn't need it anymore.
I snapped the card in half and tossed it out the window.
My thumb brushed once over the bare inside of my ring finger. The skin was smooth. Light.
Vittorio Falcone, I hope we never cross paths again.
Crestfall. I never wanted to come back.
