Tears carved silent rivers down my face as I clung, half-conscious, to the man's shirt—the fine wool damp beneath my trembling fingers.
"Re… venge…" The word escaped my lips like a dying prayer, barely formed, yet heavy with the weight of a blood oath.
When I opened my eyes again, all I saw was white—too bright, too sterile. The antiseptic scent of a hospital room invaded my senses, a stark contrast to the darkness that had swallowed me whole.
I turned my head slowly, wincing at the dull ache that radiated through every fiber of my body, and reached for my phone. A message from Colino waited on the screen, sent the night before.
[I've got Family business to handle tomorrow. Go try on the wedding gown by yourself. Our union is approaching, so pull yourself together. Stop with the dramatics and marry into the Marconi Family with some dignity.]
I stared at the message for a long moment, my face an unreadable mask, then dragged my finger across the screen and watched the words disappear into oblivion.
But just beneath it, something else caught my eye—a post from Piper's social media account.
Colino had taken her on the Family's private jet to chase the northern lights in some frozen corner of the world far from prying eyes.
In the ethereal green haze of the aurora, their silhouettes stood close together, intimate as conspirators. Matching rings glinted on their fingers—fingers tightly intertwined like the roots of a poisonous vine.
The caption pierced through me like a stiletto blade:
[He told me I'm the only one for him. He promised to protect me from all the cruelty in this world. How could I ever let go of a man like that?]
Below it, a cutesy account bearing cartoon couple avatars had commented:
[And no matter how far you try to run from me, I'll find you. I'll tie you to my side forever. So don't even try, silly girl.]
I didn't need to verify the source. I knew that tone—that possessive flair, that dark promise wrapped in honeyed words. That was Colino.
I could tell from the typing style alone.
I remembered the day I asked him to use matching couple avatars with me. He had rolled his eyes, his handsome face twisting with contempt.
"What are you, twelve? Can't you see I'm handling Family affairs? Now leave!"
And yet I had once dreamed of stargazing with him in the Alps—a stolen moment away from the shadows that governed our lives. I had planned the itinerary down to the smallest detail. He said he was too busy. Every time, that was the excuse: too busy.
Now I finally understood the truth that had been staring me in the face all along. He could be romantic. He could be tender and devoted. He just never chose to be that way with me.
I set the phone down on the starched hospital sheets, trying to blink back the sting behind my eyes.
That's when I noticed the envelope sitting quietly on the bedside table, cream-colored and expensive.
Inside it was a plane ticket. Departure in two days.
And a small note, written in an elegant hand:
[You're welcome. Hope you like the gift. For your wedding —V.]
So I was right. The man who had carried me through the darkness and delivered me to safety was none other than Vittorio Falcone—the ghost who had returned from the dead to become Colino's worst enemy.
I texted him a quiet thank-you, my fingers hovering over the keys longer than necessary, and checked myself out not long after.
Then the wedding coordinator called. The gown my mother had ordered for me—commissioned from the finest seamstress in Little Italy, paid for with years of her modest savings—had been altered to fit. It was ready.
It was the last gift she left me before the Marconis let her die. I had to pick it up.
But when I stepped into the boutique, the bell above the door chiming softly, I froze.
There stood Piper—twirling in my gown.
"Anneliese… you came." She spun in front of the gilded mirror with a saccharine smile, her voice dripping with venom disguised as honey.
"I just had to make sure it fits, you know. Trying to help you out."
She tugged the neckline lower with deliberate provocation, revealing fresh red marks scattered across her chest like a constellation of sin. Her tone turned mockingly bashful.
"Oh no, it's Colino's fault—he's just too passionate. I told him to be gentle…"
I stared at her performance, cold and unblinking as a statue carved from marble.
"You really did inherit your mother's talent for stealing other women's men."
Her smile twitched, then curved into something crueler—the mask slipping to reveal the predator beneath.
"Oh? Didn't you hear?" She placed a hand over her stomach with theatrical tenderness. "I'm carrying Colino's heir."
"And your blood contract?" She laughed, the sound like shattering crystal. "It's fake."
She flashed a video on her phone. A dim back room of some social club. Piper draped across Colino's lap like a trophy.
He was drinking, his lips brushing against her temple with casual affection.
"Do your best and bring the child into this world. When it's born, I'll gift him the Marconi territory. Everything."
Piper asked in a coy voice: "But… what about my sister?"
Colino chuckled, the sound dark and dismissive. "I never truly bound myself to her. I've been slipping birth control into her milk for months. She can't conceive. When the time comes, I'll just claim we adopted."
It was like being struck by lightning. My head spun. My legs nearly buckled beneath me, and I had to grip the edge of a display case to stay upright.
So that was it.
Whatever love had existed between us had died a long time ago. I was just too blind—too desperate to believe in the fairy tale—to notice the corpse rotting at my feet.
I sucked in a sharp breath, straightened my spine with the dignity my mother had taught me, and forced a smile onto my face.
"Well, congratulations. Becoming the next Donna of the Marconi Family is just around the corner."
"But that gown is mine. Take it off," I said, my voice dropping to ice.
I lunged forward to reclaim it, but before my fingers could even brush the fabric, one of her soldiers—assigned by Colino himself—drove his foot into my stomach.
The force knocked me flat against the polished floor. Pain exploded through my gut like a grenade. I could feel everything twisting, shifting—as though my organs had been rearranged by the brutal impact.
Piper picked up a pair of scissors from the seamstress's table. Her tone was gleeful as she traced the blade over the delicate silk, savoring the moment.
"Colino said no matter what I do, he'll clean up my mess. That's what it means to have the protection of the Family."
The sharp edge tore through hand-stitched lace. Slashed through soft silk that my mother had saved for years to afford. With each cut, she shredded the last gift my mother had ever given me—the only piece of her I had left.
I just lay there on the cold floor, watching the pieces flutter down like snowflakes in a graveyard.
Even my hatred felt dull now—numbed by the crushing weight of everything I had lost.
Piper strutted out of the boutique, her heels clicking against the marble like a victory march, leaving nothing but wreckage in her wake.
I dragged myself back to the penthouse… or rather, what used to feel like home.
Once I got there, I tore open every drawer and closet with trembling hands, yanked out every gift Colino had ever given me—the jewelry that now felt like shackles, the designer bags that were nothing but gilded cages, the stuffed animals from those early days when I still believed his lies.
One by one, I threw them all in the trash.
Behind me, I heard footsteps approaching.
Familiar ones.
