It rained on the day of the burial.

The two caskets were carried out. Selena and Vivian followed behind, weeping. Marcus led the procession with an attendant holding a black umbrella over him. I walked at the back of the line. Nobody had given me an umbrella, and I stood in the rain until I was soaked through.

When we got back to the estate, I was drenched to the bone. Ryan went to the kitchen to get me something warm to drink and was turned away at the door.

That night Marcus came by, didn't come in, and just stood on the other side of the door. "Tomorrow the family is convening. The alliance agreement needs to go through. Just sign it."

"What about my assets?"

Silence on the other side of the door. Then: "What's yours stays yours."

"I want to take back control and manage them myself."

"Anna." His voice went cold. "Do as you're told."

Through the gap in the door I could see Selena at the far end of the hallway, a gray coat draped over her shoulders, watching quietly. Marcus caught her look and gave a short nod.

Selena said, "I've drawn you a hot bath. Go warm up."

He made a sound of agreement, and their voices faded together down the hall.

I heard them through the door and felt something inside me go ice cold. It hit me then: this was never really about mistresses. From the very beginning, Marcus and Selena had been involved. This was personal.

The next morning, the document sat in front of me unsigned. Garrett came to collect it and I sent him away. He was back within the hour with two men in black suits flanking him, positioned on either side of my door like they intended to drag me out.

"The Don requests your presence."

I didn't move. They grabbed me and hauled me down the corridor. I hadn't had time to put my shoes on. My feet hit the cold marble floor and the chill shot straight through me.

The conference room was full. The family elders packed the seats in a sea of black. Selena and Vivian sat on opposite sides of the long table. Marcus sat at the head with a document and a pen laid out in front of him, and every eye in the room turned to me.

Marcus glanced at me, then held out the pen. "Sign it."

"No."

His expression darkened.

Selena spoke up, her voice honey-soft. "Anna, we're all family. Whether you sign or not, it really makes no difference."

Vivian added quickly, "Exactly. You think we'd ever do anything to hurt you?"

One of the elders, gray-haired with a face like curdled milk, spoke up in a thin, oily voice. "A Donna this selfish, and word gets out it reflects poorly on your family too, you know."

My fingers curled tight in my lap. Since last night, my heart had turned colder, inch by inch.

Marcus stepped toward me, pressed the pen into my fingers, then closed his hand over mine the same way he'd once taught me to grip a steering wheel. "Anna. Be good."

I looked up at him. I was trying to work out how to stall, how to play this—

And then the conference room doors blew open from the outside.

Cold air and rain swept in. A broad-shouldered silhouette stood in the doorway, coat whipping in the wind, with twenty-odd men behind him, all in body armor, weapons leveled at the room.

The man in front pulled off his sunglasses. It was my father. A few strands of silver-streaked hair were plastered to his face by the rain.

"Marcus." His voice was low and even. "What exactly are you making my daughter sign?"