Chapter 4

Almost every upper-class tabloid and society account was pushing the exact same version, the exact same labels, as if someone had distributed a prepared media package in advance.

I knew exactly who had done that.

Then I saw Celeste’s statement.

It had gone up half an hour earlier and already had tens of thousands of likes.

I know many people are angry on my behalf, but please don’t attack Ophilia Gray. She clearly hasn’t moved on from the breakup. Kylan and I have known each other all our lives. The depth of our connection can be difficult for outsiders to understand. She loved him, and that is not a crime. Let’s offer compassion rather than cruelty.

Perfect.

Graceful.

Magnanimous.

She wrapped herself in the robe of a saint, then handed out knives so everyone in the comments could stab me for her.

Celeste is so classy.

Ophilia should be ashamed of herself.

Ordinary people will never understand what family alliances really mean.

I turned the screen off.

My fingers were so cold they’d gone numb.

Then the door opened.

Kylan walked in.

The instant he saw the suitcase by my feet, he visibly faltered.

His face darkened, and he strode toward me.

“Where do you think you’re going, Ophilia?”

“I don’t want to give anyone any more reasons to accuse me of harassing you, Mr. Cosa.” I looked up at him, my voice cold as ice. “I accept the breakup. I wish you and Celeste a long, blissful life together.”

He stared at me for a moment.

Then he reached into the pocket of his coat and placed a bullet on the coffee table.

The brass casing gleamed with a grim metallic chill.

A custom round designed for maximum cavity damage.

At close range, it was absolutely lethal.

The base was engraved with the Cosa family’s coiled serpent insignia.

“That reporter who kept pressing about the timeline,” Kylan said quietly, “won’t be writing anything about the Cosa family ever again.”

My pupils contracted.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean he suffered an unfortunate mugging on his way home.” He loosened his tie with maddening calm, as if he were discussing the weather. “You know how it is, Ophilia. That’s the price of talking too much.”

Fear flooded through me like ice water.

“You killed someone over this?”

“I protect what belongs to me. And my reputation.” He seized my chin and forced me to look at him. A storm churned in those gray-blue eyes, cold beyond anything human. “You will always be mine, Ophilia. You’re going nowhere.”

I tried to wrench free, but his grip only tightened.

His voice even softened, like he was soothing some disobedient pet.

But his eyes sent a chill straight down my spine.

“So tell me—where exactly do you think you’re going, my little nightingale?”

“My mother arranged a meeting for me.” I gritted my teeth and met his gaze head-on, watching his pupils constrict sharply. “I’m going to the West Coast. To meet a man who actually wants to date me with marriage in mind.”

His fingers dug into my jaw.

“Say that again.”

“You heard me.”

“You think I’ll let you go?” His voice dropped lower, and the pressure of a godfather rolled off him like something physical, freezing the air itself. “You think I’ll allow another man to touch you?”

“You don’t have the right—”

“Any man you want, I can make disappear.” He bent closer, his breath brushing my face, “Before you even have time to remember his name, I can erase him from this world. Do you understand?”

My heart hammered against my ribs.

“Kylan—”

“From East Coast to West, this continent is tied into my business. Every family. Every powerful name. Ophilia, all I need is one phone call.”

“You can’t—”

“I can do whatever I want.” His thumb dragged slowly over my lower lip, as though tracing something already his. “And right now, I want you to stay exactly where you are.”

Then he kissed me.

Rough.

Dominating.

Punishing.

I shoved at his chest with all my strength, but he didn’t move.

He kissed me like the kiss itself could brand me back into his possession—no ring, no wedding required, only fear and submission.

By the time he let me go, I could taste blood.

“Tomorrow,” he said, brushing the blood from the corner of my mouth with a thumb so gentle it was terrifying, “I’ll come back. I’ll explain Celeste to you properly.”

“It’s too late—”

“It’s too late when I say it is.” He stepped back. “Get some rest, little nightingale. You look exhausted.”

When that nickname came out of his mouth, it was as cold as the bullet on the table.

He reached the door, then stopped and looked back over his shoulder.

“Don’t force me to come find you, Ophilia. If I have to personally come and bring you back, you won’t like the consequences.”

The door closed behind him.

I stood there, lips swollen, the taste of blood still on my tongue.

Then my knees gave out, and I slid to the floor by the bed.

I wasn’t his wife.

I barely even qualified as his mistress.

I was just his property.

Prey trapped inside his gilded cage—well cared for as long as I stayed inside, but the second I tried to run, he would kill.

By the time I realized what I was doing, the phone was already in my hand.

I called my mother.

She answered on the first ring.

“Ophilia? Baby, are you okay?”

“Mom.” My voice broke instantly. “I need your help.”

“What happened?”

“I have to get out of New York tonight. As fast as possible. But Kylan... he won’t let me go. He’ll track everything. My cards, my phone, my travel records. No matter where I hide, he’ll know.”

Silence.

“Mom?”

“There is one more way.” Her voice dropped, heavy with resolve. “But it means going to your father’s side—your real family. This is the path your father and I tried our hardest to keep you from.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll contact Rafe,” she said at last. “Your biological brother. He can get you out cleanly—with a new identity, no trace left behind. But Ophilia, if you accept his help, there’s no turning back. Your father, me, and Rafe... all we ever wanted was for you to live an ordinary, happy life and never have to touch any of this. Do you understand?”

“Rafe... my biological brother?”

“Yes.” She let out a slow breath, as if setting down a burden she had carried for years. “Your biological father was Vincent Visconti. He died in an ‘accident’ when you were two. Before he died, he put a hand on five-year-old Rafe’s head and made him swear that for the rest of his life, he would protect you at all costs—his only sister.”

Vincent Visconti.

The name crashed through my mind.

The Visconti family—the oldest and most mysterious family on the West Coast, powerful beyond measure.

“So I’m...”

“You are Vincent’s daughter. The Visconti family’s eldest daughter.” My mother’s voice was tired and gentle. “We hid you away and changed your surname because we wanted you to grow up like an ordinary girl. But if Kylan Cosa won’t let go... then now, only your brother Rafe can get you out of his hands.”

“Then call him, Mom. I don’t care what it costs. I’m leaving.”

“Are you sure? Once you take this step, you can never go back to the life of Ophilia Gray.”

“Mom, he threatened to kill any man I got close to. And today he made sure a reporter had an ‘accident.’ He’s gone insane.”

“All right.” The last trace of hesitation vanished from her voice. Only a mother’s fierce resolve remained. “Protect yourself, baby. I’ll contact Rafe now. He’ll arrange everything.”

The call ended.

I set my phone down.

The bullet still sat on the coffee table, the serpent insignia flashing faintly in the light.

I looked away, wrapped my arms around myself, and slowly curled into the corner of the couch.