Chapter Two

“You’ve decided you’ll marry into them?”

My mother, Marianne, sat by the window with an unfinished shawl still in her hands. The old house’s glass reflected her rosy complexion—and my numb expression.

I nodded, voice steady. “Yes.”

“Good.”

She smiled, then confusion quickly touched her face. “But it’s sudden, Sienna.”

“The Vail family… they’ve been waiting for you.” She took my hand. Her palm was so warm it almost made me cry. I only smiled. “But your mother still wants you to choose someone you actually like. Don’t wrong yourself for anyone.”

“Of course, Mom,” I said—good as I’d been trained to be these years. “I’ve decided.”

“Alright then, sweetheart.”

She lifted a hand to smooth the loose strands on my forehead, gentle and serious. “I’ll talk it over with Sal. Lorenzo’s getting married too—two huge blessings.”

Two huge blessings.

Yes. A blessing, the likes of which I’d never had before.

When she left, the door clicked shut and the old house fell silent.

I went back to my room, locked the door, took out my phone, and dialed a number I’d saved long ago.

“I need the chip removed,” I said. “As soon as possible.”

Two seconds of silence on the other end.

“Seven days,” the voice said. “The clinic by the old docks.” A pause. “Bring cash.”

“Okay.”

After I hung up, I started packing.

In the deepest drawer: a tie clip I’d hidden for a long time, and a spent shell casing—the one he’d pressed into my palm the first time he shot a rival leader. He’d kissed me and said, *From now on, no one can hurt you again.*

Beneath that: an old photo. Me at eighteen, standing beside him, smiling like an idiot.

And then all the gifts he’d brought me from all over the world.

I boxed them up one by one.

At dusk, I went into the backyard. No one was by the burn barrel. Wind rasped dry leaves along the ground. I dumped the contents of the box into the barrel.

The instant flame caught the paper edge, the smiling face in the photo curled, blackened, and turned to ash.

The ash disappeared into the air—and my chest grew lighter with every second.

This time, the burning was my choice.

I turned and went upstairs. The moment I stepped into the hallway, I heard a woman’s soft laugh.

Lorenzo Corleone appeared at the stair landing with a woman on his arm. She wore a crisp, pale coat; her black hair was pinned up, her neck slim and white.

Bianca DeLuca.

Lorenzo’s eyes landed on me. “Where’ve you been?”

Before I could answer, Bianca released his arm and came toward me, smiling harmless and intimate. “You’re Sienna, right? Lorenzo’s mentioned you. We’re family now.”

“Welcome,” I said politely, ready to turn back to my room—

Lorenzo lifted a hand and blocked me, tone as casual as placing furniture. “Wait. First time meeting, Bianca’s bound to feel awkward. Stay with her.”

It felt like someone put another bullet through my heart, and I still said calmly, “Alright.”

We wandered through the manor. Bianca walked beside me, cheeks faintly pink as she asked about Lorenzo’s preferences. I answered, numb and automatic.

“Espresso. No sugar, no milk.”

“Navy blue.”

“When he’s not sleeping well, he needs someone nearby.”

I didn’t notice her questions slowing, her smile fading—until Lorenzo, called away by a phone, returned.

“What are you talking about?”

“Nothing,” Bianca said brightly, as if her smile had never slipped.

The servants opened the jewel room’s doors. Bianca let out a small gasp. “God… this sapphire set is gorgeous.”

Blue as deep water. Cold as a blade.

Lorenzo didn’t even raise his eyelids. “If you like it, take it.”

A servant immediately lifted the necklace and placed it on a velvet tray. Bianca put on a shy smile. “Is that… appropriate?”

“We’ll be married soon.” Lorenzo’s tone was calm in a way that was almost frightening. “Husband and wife don’t need to draw such sharp lines.”

That sentence reached into my chest and carved something out.

I recognized that necklace.

It was his mother’s heirloom. On her deathbed she’d said he should give it to “the one he loves.” On my twentieth birthday, I’d asked carefully if I could wear it once—just once.

He’d kissed my cheek and laughed. “That’s for Mrs. Corleone. Sienna… do you want to be my wife?”

I’d blushed scarlet.

The next day, he gave me something even more expensive—never mentioning the necklace again.

So he’d drawn the boundary clearly from the start.

“Sienna?” Bianca’s voice snapped me back. “You look awful. Do you want to rest?”

I forced a smile. “A little dizzy. You two keep looking—I’ll go upstairs.”

I turned toward the stairs. Every step felt like walking over broken glass.

Behind me, Bianca’s voice turned sweet with coaxing. “Lorenzo, your pinky ring is so special. Can you give it to me?”

My steps froze. Every drop of blood in my body went cold.

“Sorry. That one can’t be given away,” Lorenzo said.

I exhaled, kept walking.

“Then can I see the details?” Bianca laughed. “I want to have someone make a copy.”

Lorenzo went silent for a beat.

For that one second, I even—ridiculously—thought he might refuse—

But the next second, my legs turned to water.

He took the ring off.

Bianca toyed with it, curious. She must have pressed something without realizing it—

I convulsed.

A violent current detonated in my chest, shot down my spine into my limbs. Numbness and stabbing pain crashed together. I couldn’t stop the muffled sound that broke out of me. My knees buckled. My vision went black.

“Bang—!”

I fell hard down the stairs. My forehead struck the edge of a step. Warm blood poured immediately, running down from my temple.

Through blurred vision, I saw Lorenzo’s face change. He lunged toward me almost on instinct.

He was getting closer—

But then Bianca cried out, “Ah… my ankle!”

“Lorenzo, I twisted it. It hurts—can you take me to the hospital?”

Lorenzo stopped.

He looked at me—blood everywhere, collapsed at the bottom of the stairs—then at Bianca with tears in her eyes.

Then he said coldly to the servants, “Take Sienna to the hospital.”

And he bent to lift Bianca into his arms, turning away.

I lay on the cold floor. Blood smeared my eyes. My ears rang.

That back view walked farther and farther away.

He didn’t even—

look back at me once.