Lucia’s POV

Bruno had barely stepped out when my parents arrived.

The narrow cellar corridor seemed to shrink the moment they came into view, the weight of a Don and his Matriarch filling the space like suffocating fog. They didn’t rush to me. They didn’t ask how I was. They stood a few steps away, looking at me the way you look at a stain that had finally refused to scrub out.

My mother spoke first, her tone clipped and cold, stripped of any warmth a mother should have.

“Lucia, admit your mistakes. Confess properly, and Bruno will let you go.”

My father nodded beside her, eyes sharp, voice edged like a blade forged by the old code.

“You’ve shamed the Barsanti name enough. Stop resisting.”

I couldn’t help it. A bitter smile tugged at my lips.

Ever since the day they brought me back under the family roof, I had been trained to lower my head. If I read the ledgers cleaner than Adriana, that was my fault. If I closed a deal she fumbled, if I saw the angle she missed, that was my fault too. If I didn’t smile sweetly, didn’t act the doting, obedient sister she wanted at her heel, every difference became another sin.

I had admitted fault for years. Until the words themselves had lost all meaning.

This time, I didn’t bow.

Swallowing the bitterness clawing at my throat, I asked calmly, “What’s the point of admitting anything now?”

I lifted my eyes to meet theirs, my voice steady despite the ache spreading through my chest.

“Should I admit I didn’t push Adriana hard enough?”

The slap came before the echo of my words faded.

My father’s hand struck my face with a sharp crack, the force snapping my head to the side. Pain flared hot across my cheek, bright enough to blur my vision for a second. I tasted blood.

But I didn’t cry.

I straightened slowly, lifted my chin in stubborn defiance, and let out a cold, humorless snort.

“I was taken,” I said hoarsely. “Locked up. Beaten. Nearly broken. And all you cared about was whether Adriana caught a cold.”

Something in my chest growled low, furious and wounded.

“Now she stages a fake fall,” I continued, voice shaking but unbroken, “and you drag me down here to confess again. Tell me, am I just some stray you pulled off the street? Something disposable you can blame whenever she cries?”

Neither of them flinched.

They looked at me the way you look at an enemy, not a daughter. A threat to the fragile balance they’d built around Adriana.

My mother pressed her lips into a thin line. She lifted a folded handkerchief and dabbed once at the dry corner of her eye.

“Ungrateful,” she snapped. “If you refuse to admit fault, then stay here.”

My father turned away first.

They left without another glance, their footsteps echoing down the corridor like a verdict already passed.

Before I could protest, the men seized me. Their hands were rough, impatient, hauling me forward until I stumbled. They shoved me down into a narrow holding cell deep beneath the family’s station.

The door slammed shut.

Darkness swallowed me whole.

Only a thin blade of light slipped through a slit near the ceiling, barely enough to remind me the world still existed outside these walls. The air was stale, heavy, pressing against my lungs.

My body began to tremble.

The walls felt too close. The ceiling too low. My chest tightened as if invisible hands were squeezing my ribs inward. Claustrophobia surged, violent and merciless, dragging memories of that other dark room back to the surface.

“Bruno,” I whispered instinctively, my voice cracking. “Bruno.”

No answer came.

Only silence. Only darkness.

Time lost all meaning.

When the cell door finally creaked open, I flinched so hard my back slammed against the wall. Shapes filled the doorway. Broad, hard-faced women with the flat, indifferent eyes of enforcers who had long since stopped caring about anything but orders and cash.

One of them smirked.

“That her? Miss Barsanti said to teach her a lesson.”

My heart dropped.

A short-haired one stepped forward, cracking her knuckles with deliberate slowness. Panic surged through me. I backed away, but another fist twisted into my hair and yanked me down.

The floor rushed up to meet me.

Fists and boots followed.

Each blow exploded through my body, sharp and unforgiving. Pain radiated through my ribs, my back, my legs. Old injuries screamed as they tore open again. I tried to fight back, but my strength was gone, my body still healing from the last beating.

I was no match for them.

I curled in on myself, arms shielding my head, biting down on my screams as they vented their cruelty without restraint. The world narrowed to pain and breath and the metallic taste of blood.

“Enough!” a man barked from beyond the bars. “Stop it!”

Reluctantly, they stepped back.

I lay sprawled on the cold floor, barely conscious, blood soaking into the stone beneath me. My vision dimmed. My back burned where old wounds split anew, each movement sending agony through my bones.

Laughter echoed faintly as the door opened again.

Hands grabbed me. I was dragged out, my body scraping against the ground. Their mocking voices followed me like ghosts, but I didn’t have the strength to answer.

A full day and night passed.

Then, without ceremony, I was thrown out of the station.

Sunlight hit my eyes like a blade. I raised a trembling hand to shield my face, swaying as I forced myself upright. Step by step, limping and dizzy, I made my way to a clinic that asked no questions.

After my wounds were cleaned and hastily bandaged, I turned to leave.

That was when I saw them.

Bruno froze the moment his eyes landed on me. Shock flickered across his face, genuine this time. He stared as if seeing me for the first time.

“How,” his brow furrowed. “How did you end up like this?”

For a heartbeat, something like heartache crossed his eyes. His hand lifted, as if he meant to help me.

I stepped back.

Before I could speak, Adriana rushed to his side, clinging to his arm like she belonged there. She looked at me with wide, worried eyes, perfectly rehearsed.

“Lucia,” she said softly, “Bruno released you yesterday. Why didn’t you come home last night? And how did you hurt yourself so badly?”

She turned to him, voice gentle as venom, reaching up to smooth a strand of hair that hadn’t moved out of place.

“Don’t blame her. She probably just wants attention. Look at her, she’s really hurt. Let’s treat her first, all right?”

Her words worked instantly.

The concern vanished from Bruno’s eyes, replaced by cold fury. He looked at me as if I were something repulsive. His thumb found the signet ring on his finger and turned it, once.

“You’re doing this again,” he snapped. “Lucia, your lies are obvious now. Nobody believes you anymore.”

This time, I didn’t argue.

I simply looked at him, memorizing the face I had once loved with everything I had. His eyes were still beautiful. But empty of me.

He turned to Adriana, gently taking her hand. Without looking back, he said, “If she has the strength to hurt herself, she has the strength to walk home.”

Then, colder still, “Watch her. Don’t let her take a single shortcut.”

They walked away together.

I stood there alone for a long moment before forcing my legs to move. Each step burned. Each breath hurt.

And with every painful stride, one thought carved itself deeper into my mind, sharper than any blade.

I will make them pay.

All of them.

Lucia’s POV

When I finally reached the estate and pushed the heavy front door open, Adriana’s sobs poured out of the sitting room like a blade dragged across my nerves.

She was curled up on the sofa, trembling, her face buried against Bruno’s chest. His arms wrapped around her instinctively, protectively, as if she were something fragile that might shatter if he loosened his grip even slightly. The room smelled of her perfume, sweet, pitiful, carefully measured, so different from the sharp bitterness of iron and cold stone clinging to my own clothes.

“Bruno…” Adriana cried hoarsely. “I don’t want to go through with the alliance union. I don’t want to be handed to that madman. He’s cruel. Brutal. The women married off to seal his last two truces… they all ended up in the ground.” Her fingers clenched in his shirt. “Why does it have to be me? Why can’t it be Lucia instead?”

Her words landed with surgical precision.

Bruno’s hand moved slowly, soothing her back in steady circles, the way a man calmed something frightened. His voice dropped into that gentle register he only ever used for her.

“Don’t be afraid. With me here, no one forces you into anything.” He paused, then added with quiet certainty, “No matter whose name goes to the Commission, it won’t be yours.”

My parents echoed him at once, the weight of the Barsanti name wrapping around Adriana like armor.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” my mother said softly. “We would never send you to that Family.”

“We’ll protect you,” my father added. “No matter what.”

I stood in the doorway, half in shadow.

No one looked at me.

Not Bruno. Not my parents. Not even Adriana, who wept so convincingly in his arms. It was as if I were already invisible, already chosen as the unspoken price to be paid.

Without saying a word, I walked past them and went straight to my room.

The door clicked shut behind me, and the silence cracked something open inside my chest.

Memories flooded in without mercy.

I remembered the night I had mentioned, only in passing, that I wanted to watch the sun rise above the clouds. That same evening Bruno had a private plane fueled and waiting. By dawn we stood on a cliff on some remote island, an observation deck built overnight so I wouldn’t have to stand in the cold sea wind.

He had once burned through a fortune without blinking, just to make me smile.

He took me skiing through the Alps, held my hand while we chased the aurora across frozen plains, cooked for me when I was too tired to eat, carried me off to places most men in our world never see. He photographed every trip, every laugh, every quiet moment, as if he were afraid time would steal them from him.

Back then, I truly believed he was mine.

Now I understood the truth.

I wasn’t irreplaceable. I was just new.

A novelty. A distraction that had lasted longer than expected.

I wiped my tears away quickly, refusing myself the luxury of breaking down. My hands moved with practiced calm as I reached into my pocket and drew out a small recorder. I removed the memory card, then slid it into an envelope with a copy of the detention block’s security footage.

I sent everything to my contact with a single tap.

As the bar crawled across the screen, a bitter taste rose in my throat.

At first I had only meant to capture Adriana’s pitiful performance in front of Bruno and my parents. Insurance, nothing more. But fate had been cruelly efficient. I had also caught her ordering those men to “teach me a lesson.”

When the files finally went through, my screen dimmed.

Footsteps sounded outside my door.

My heart tightened.

The door opened quietly, and Bruno stepped inside. His tall frame filled the doorway, his presence as familiar as it was unbearable. Before I could react, he crossed the room in long strides and pulled me into his arms.

The scent of cedar and night air clung to him, the same scent that once made me feel safe. Now it only made me feel trapped.

He rested his chin against the top of my head, his grip firm, almost desperate.

“Forgive me, Lucia,” he whispered weakly.

I froze in his embrace.

My lips pressed together, every word lodged painfully in my throat. I didn’t answer. He didn’t seem to need me to.

“Don’t be so hard on Adriana,” he went on softly, as if soothing a child. “She’s different from you. You’re the Barsantis’ blood daughter. You already have everything.”

He hesitated, then added, “I’ll marry you one day.”

My fingers curled slowly. Somewhere behind me, I heard him twist the signet ring around and around his finger.

“But Adriana…” His voice gentled further. “She has nothing. It’s only natural for her to be sensitive. You should try to understand her. Be patient with her.”

“I have everything…”

The words slipped out of me in a whisper so bitter it made my stomach churn.

So this was his apology.

He hadn’t come to admit fault. He hadn’t come to acknowledge what had been done to me in that cell. He had come to excuse Adriana, and to remind me of my place.

Bruno truly believed that an embrace and a few soft words could erase everything. That no matter how deeply he cut me, I would forgive him the way I always had. Even though only yesterday he had sent me home bruised, broken, and bleeding.

In his eyes, he could strike me ninety-nine times, then toss me a single bone and expect me to crawl back, grateful.

I lifted my head and looked at his face.

My heart ached so fiercely it felt like it might splinter apart.

Slowly, I understood something that mattered.

Bruno was wrong.

And this time, I would not come back.

Lucia's POV

The next morning, I was dragged out of sleep by a burst of noise from the courtyard below.

Laughter. Music. Shouts layered with celebration, the kind that carried across the Ferraro estate like a warning.

My head was still heavy when I forced myself upright. Before I could fully wake, a maid knocked sharply on my door, her voice carefully neutral, the way everyone's voice went neutral inside these walls.

"Miss Lucia, Don Bruno has brought entertainers into the courtyard. He asks that you come down to watch."

Entertainers.

I let out a breath that tasted faintly of irony.

In the Ferraro house, nothing was ever only entertainment. Every display was a statement, a thing arranged to be witnessed by the whole family, soldiers and capos and cousins alike. Bruno understood that better than anyone.

And he also knew I hated crowds. Hated noise. Hated being made into spectacle.

Those things had always belonged to Adriana.

I pushed myself out of bed, my injuries protesting beneath my skin. The faint ache along my ribs reminded me that I was still healing, that I had not yet recovered from the cellar, from the fear, from the betrayal.

"I won't—" I began.

But before the words left my mouth, the door opened again.

Adriana walked in first.

She wore a pale dress that flowed like mist, her hair loose over her shoulders. Bruno stood beside her, his arm around her waist with the unconscious familiarity of a man who no longer thought about where his hands went. They looked harmonious. Like a pair the family was meant to see together.

Adriana's smile bloomed the moment she spotted me.

"Lucia," she said brightly, crossing the room in quick, light steps. She grabbed my hand, her grip warm and intimate, as though we had never been enemies. "Come on, don't sulk. Bruno arranged all of this just for you."

Her fingers tightened slightly, nails pressing into my skin. With her free hand she reached up and smoothed a strand of hair that hadn't moved at all.

"If you don't come down," she added softly, "he'll be disappointed."

Bruno stood behind her, his gaze fixed on my face. There was something in his eyes, expectation, maybe even hope, as if he truly believed this could erase everything that had happened.

"Just take a look," he said. "Alright?"

They were perfectly aligned.

I felt like prey cornered by two people who had already decided the outcome.

With Adriana pulling me forward and Bruno watching closely, I had no room to refuse. I was escorted downstairs, step by step, my feet heavy, my chest tight.

The courtyard had been transformed.

A raised stage stood at its center, family members gathered around it in excited clusters, wine glasses catching the morning light. A fire-breather stood atop the platform, flames bursting from his mouth in violent arcs that lit the air in blazing orange and red.

The heat washed over me in suffocating waves.

Something in me stirred uneasily beneath my skin.

Adriana clung to Bruno's arm as though frightened, whispering into his ear. Bruno leaned down, listening, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face, wiping sweat from her brow with practiced tenderness.

They looked like the promised couple of the family.

I stood off to the side.

Invisible.

Unnecessary.

Bruno's phone rang suddenly. He murmured something to Adriana and stepped away to answer it, his back turning to the stage, the way a man does when the call matters more than the room.

That was when the unease sharpened into something lethal.

I stared at the flames, every instinct screaming. Fire had always meant something in this house. Purification. Judgment. Destruction. Nothing was ever set alight here without meaning.

Then I felt it.

Adriana's gaze.

I turned.

The sweet smile she had worn moments ago was gone. In its place was a twisted, chilling expression that made my blood run cold.

Before I could step back, she lunged.

Her hand clamped around my arm with shocking strength, far stronger than she ever pretended to be. She shoved me forward, straight toward the rope line that separated the guests from the roaring fire.

"Ah—!"

I screamed as the heat slammed into my face, my skin burning instantly. I struggled, but her grip was merciless.

Then, in a single smooth motion, she released me.

And threw herself even closer to the flames.

"Bruno!" she screamed, voice tearing through the courtyard. "Help me!"

Chaos erupted.

Bruno spun around, his phone hitting the ground as he charged forward without hesitation. He broke through the cordon, scooped Adriana into his arms, and staggered back, shielding her body with his own.

Gasps rippled through the crowd. Soldiers near the wall went rigid, hands drifting toward their jackets before they understood there was no shooter, only fire.

The moment Bruno steadied himself, his expression hardened. He turned toward me, eyes blazing with fury.

Before I could speak, pain exploded across my face.

His palm struck my cheek with brutal force.

"Why did you push her?" he roared. "Are you trying to kill her?!"

My ears rang. The world tilted.

"I didn't—" I tried to say.

He didn't listen.

Bruno shoved me hard.

I stumbled backward and fell, my shoulder grazing the edge of the spreading flames. Searing pain tore through me, ripping a cry from my throat.

That sound made him freeze.

For a fraction of a second, something like hesitation flickered in his eyes. His hand rose halfway to the signet ring on his finger, and stopped.

But then Adriana clutched his chest weakly.

"Bruno… Lucia looks worse than I do," she whispered. "Take her to be looked at first…"

The hesitation vanished.

Bruno looked at me with open disgust, then turned back to Adriana as if I were nothing more than an inconvenience in his house.

"Bring her too," he ordered his men coldly. "Get the dottore."

He carried Adriana away like she was made of glass.

I lay on the ground, firelight flickering above me. The pain in my shoulder deepened, spreading through my body. My vision blurred as the enforcers rushed toward me.

The last thing I saw before darkness claimed me—

Was the flames still burning.