Isabella POV
Bianca nodded, turning toward the heavy mahogany door. The study was still vibrating with my father's lethal rage and Dante's arrogant defiance. I needed a weapon, a physical proof to shatter the illusion Eva had so carefully woven around my parents. I caught Bianca's eye just as her hand touched the brass doorknob. A subtle tilt of my head. She paused.
I stepped closer to her, keeping my back to the room. "Vai prima nella sua stanza," (Go to her room first,) I murmured in rapid, hushed Sicilian, a language Dante barely understood. "Prendi il portagioie d'argento intagliato sotto la sua toeletta. Non farti vedere da nessuno." (Take the carved silver jewelry box under her vanity. Don't let anyone see you.)
Bianca's dark eyes widened for a fraction of a second, but her training as a Moretti soldier kicked in. She gave a curt, imperceptible nod and slipped out of the room. I turned back to my mother, letting my features soften into a mask of sisterly concern. "I just reminded Bianca to be gentle with her, Mama. We don't want to frighten Eva."
Ten minutes later, the door creaked open. Eva Chen stood on the threshold, looking like a fragile lily battered by a violent storm. Her almond eyes were rimmed with red, her pale face a canvas of perfect, rehearsed sorrow.
Dante exhaled her name like a prayer. "Eva." They exchanged a look so thick with illicit longing it made my stomach churn.
Eva rushed past him, coming straight to me. She reached out with trembling hands to grasp mine. "Izzy," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I am so sorry you have to endure this."
I didn't pull away. Instead, I squeezed her hands, my gaze locking onto hers with a chilling intensity. "I believe you, Eva," I said, my voice ringing clear and cold across the silent study. "Now, prove it. Swear it before my father, the Don of the Moretti family. Swear on the soul of your dead father—the man who took a bullet for mine—that you and this traditore (traitor) are completely innocent."
The trap snapped shut. Eva's innocent mask froze. A tiny, frantic twitch betrayed her left eyelid. She was cornered, forced to gamble the very loyalty that kept her under my father's roof. The silence stretched, heavy and lethal. My parents watched, mistaking my calculated cruelty for the desperate grief of a betrayed bride.
But Eva was a master manipulator. Realizing she couldn't swear the oath, she gasped, pressing a delicate lace handkerchief to her mouth. A series of harsh, breathless coughs wracked her frail frame. She swayed, looking as though she might collapse.
"Eva!" My mother rushed forward, wrapping a protective arm around her shoulders, instantly distracted from the oath. My father's stern face softened with misplaced guilt.
Eva looked up, tears spilling over her lashes. "Don Moretti... Sofia..." she choked out, her voice trembling with a sickeningly perfect blend of sorrow and resolve. "I will marry him."
The room went dead still. "What?" my father growled.
"I will do it," Eva wept, looking like a tragic martyr. "To save the alliance. To protect the honor of the Moretti family. I cannot let Don Marco face a war because of me. I will sacrifice myself."
Dante looked at her with awe. My parents stared at her, utterly moved by her profound, selfless devotion. They were ready to burn the world down to protect this treacherous snake. I watched the sickening display, my blood running ice-cold.
Then, the heavy mahogany door swung open. Bianca stepped into the study, her face an unreadable mask. In her hands, catching the dim light of the fire, rested a carved silver jewelry box.
