Cassandra?

A welcome home party from her? The woman who threw me into hell now wants to play the forgiving angel?

I stared at the perfect mask Lorenzo wore—the mask of the Don—and felt sick to my stomach.

“She’s in there?”

“Of course,” Lorenzo said, like it was the most normal thing in the world. “Cassandra’s been setting up since this morning. Didn’t even stop for lunch. She… she really wants to make it up to you.”

Make it up to me? For killing my father and stealing my life? With a party?

Lorenzo saw my blank expression, and a flicker of annoyance crossed his face. It was the look of a man whose patience was wearing thin. “Bella, Cassandra’s gesture…”

“What gesture?” I cut him off, my voice flat.

His expression hardened. Finally, he just said, “Get inside.”

I walked straight for the main doors. Lorenzo was right behind me. The scent of his expensive cologne, once my safe harbor, now felt like poison in my lungs.

Before we even entered, the chatter from inside slithered out like snakes.

“I heard the father-killer is back.”

“The Don is too merciful. If it were me, I’d have let her rot in that cell.”

“A woman with no family name. How is she fit to be the Donna of the Romano family?”

The words were needles, pricking at nerves I thought were long dead.

Lorenzo’s steps faltered. His face darkened.

He instinctively reached for me. An old habit—to pull me into his arms, to shield me from the world.

That was how he used to protect me. The proof that he loved me.

But now, I calmly stepped aside, avoiding his touch.

“Don’t touch me.”

Lorenzo’s hand froze in mid-air. Real pain, just for a second, flashed in his eyes.

“Bella…”

I looked at his hands. “The same hands that once shielded me from the world,” I whispered, “are the ones that pushed me into the fire.”

His body went rigid. His face turned pale.

The gossip inside continued, getting louder, bolder.

Lorenzo snapped.

He kicked open the heavy oak doors.

BOOM—

The sound silenced the entire hall. Every head turned in shock to see him, and me, standing in the doorway.

Lorenzo’s eyes were like ice as he swept them across the room. His voice was low, dangerous, laced with the promise of violence.

“This is Isabella Romano. My wife. The Donna of the Romano family. Her honor is my honor.” He paused, forcing the words through his teeth. “Anyone disrespects her again, they get a bullet. A lesson in manners.”

The room was dead silent.

That was the power of Don Lorenzo Romano.

I felt a flash of irony. He was defending an "honor" that he himself had destroyed.

This sudden protection gave me a sliver of false hope.

Maybe… he still cared.

“Lorenzo…”

A soft voice cut through the silence.

I saw Cassandra, dressed in a pristine white Chanel suit, step out from the crowd.

Her eyes were red-rimmed, making her look like a frightened deer. Beautiful and innocent.

Three years had only made her more stunning.

She walked straight to me, tears in her eyes, her voice trembling. “Bella… I… I’m so… so sorry…”

She reached for my hand. I didn’t move.

“Sorry?” I looked at her. “What for?”

Cassandra bit her lip, a tear rolling perfectly down her cheek. “I know… because of me… you’ve been through so much…”

Been through so much?

She orchestrated a murder, and I went to prison for it. That’s what she calls “going through so much”?

Lorenzo immediately stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on Cassandra’s shoulder. “Cassandra, don’t cry. It’s not your fault.”

Not her fault?

Then whose was it? Mine?

“Bella,” Lorenzo turned to me, his tone a mix of reprimand and command. “Cassandra worked all day on this party.”

I watched them. One playing the innocent victim, the other the devoted protector.

And I was the ungrateful bitch.

Cassandra took two glasses of red wine from a passing waiter’s tray and downed one of them.

Then, she held the other out to me, her hands trembling.

A flash of hatred in her eyes was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by a look of deep regret and pleading.

“Bella, I am officially apologizing to you,” she choked out, her gaze flickering past me to Lorenzo. “Can you… can you forgive me?”

I stared at the glass of blood-red wine in Cassandra's hand. I didn't move.

This wasn't an apology. It was a performance.

A show for Lorenzo, a play about forgiveness and reconciliation. And I was the prop that had to play along.

"I don't drink," I said, my voice dead flat.

Cassandra's face froze. Annoyance flashed in her eyes.

The guests started whispering immediately. Their stares felt like needles.

"So ungrateful."

"Miss Viti is being so gracious, and she's acting like this?"

Lorenzo's face darkened completely.

He stepped up beside me, his voice low and threatening. "Bella, don't make a scene. Drink it."

I looked up, straight into his deep eyes. They used to be my entire sky.

"And if I don't?"

"This isn’t a request," he said, his voice dropping. "This is how it ends. Drink it."

An end?

My surrender, so he could put a neat little bow on his betrayal?

I let out a cold laugh and turned my head away.

Lorenzo was silent for a moment. The air felt thick enough to cut.

When he spoke again, he used the only weapon he had left that could destroy me.

"Drink the wine," he said, his voice slow, a devil's whisper, "and I'll take you to see Nonna."

Nonna.

My heart seized. It felt like a fist was crushing it. I couldn't breathe.

She was the only family I had left in the world. My only weakness.

He knew. He always knew.

I looked at him, the man I once loved with all my soul, using my most cherished person to force this humiliation down my throat.

I snatched the glass from Cassandra’s hand. Without looking at anyone, I tilted my head back and drank it all.

The cold liquid slid down my throat, with a faint, bitter aftertaste.

A triumphant glint appeared in Cassandra's eyes, quickly replaced by a look of tearful gratitude. "Oh, Bella! I knew you'd forgive me!"

Fake applause echoed through the room. Lorenzo seemed to relax. He’d completed his "mission."

He turned back to Cassandra and began comforting her, like soothing a frightened child.

His attention, once a precious thing that was all mine, was now being wasted on another woman.

Guest after guest came up to me, glasses in hand.

"Welcome home, Mrs. Romano!"

"To your return, Ma'am!"

I went through the motions, numb. But my stomach was starting to churn.

A familiar pain was waking up deep in my abdomen.

An old injury from prison.

The bitterness from the wine was now spreading through my blood.

My vision started to blur. The noise of the party twisted and warped into the sound of a cell door slamming shut.

"Be careful, don't touch the cut," I heard Lorenzo's gentle voice.

I turned my head. He was carefully holding Cassandra's wrist, where there was a tiny, almost invisible scratch.

Meanwhile, a thousand knives were twisting in my gut.

Cold sweat soaked my back.

I instinctively pressed a hand to my stomach. My fingertips were ice.

"Lorenzo..." I whispered his name, my voice barely audible.

He didn't look up. He was talking to Cassandra. "Is the steak too tough? I'll have them make you another one."

The pain was making my vision go black. I couldn't hold on.

My throat tightened. A metallic taste filled my mouth.

Cough.

A trickle of blood escaped my lips. It dripped onto my white dress, a single red flower blooming on the fabric.

My body swayed. Surrounded by a sea of shocked faces and gawking eyes, I collapsed.

In the last second before I lost consciousness, I heard Lorenzo’s stunned voice, and Cassandra’s shriek of thinly veiled delight.

I woke up to the familiar ceiling of the family's private clinic.

Lorenzo was sitting by the bed. He'd changed into a clean shirt. His face was dark.

"The doctor said it was just a stomach spasm from anxiety," he said, his voice cold as ice. "It's nothing serious."

Nothing serious?

I coughed up blood.

“Isabella,” he cut me off, his eyes like chips of ice. “When did you become such a good actress? So damn calculating?”

Acting?

My heart plunged into an icy abyss.

He would rather believe I was a manipulative actress than believe the real pain in my body.

"You think I was acting?" My voice was hoarse, laced with a bitter laugh.

Lorenzo looked away, a flicker of unease on his face. His voice softened slightly. "Bella, that's not what I meant..."

He reached for my hand. I pulled it back with all my strength.

Three years in prison, plus the internal bleeding, had left me weak.

But not too weak to refuse him.

"I know you've been through a lot," Lorenzo said, his voice gentle now, like he was calming a child throwing a tantrum. "But I need you to hold on a little longer."

Hold on? For what? To watch him and Cassandra play out their epic romance while I faded into the background?

“Two more wishes,” Lorenzo said, his voice flat, final. “Then we’re gone. Lake Como. Just us. We’ll never come back.”

Lake Como.

Our honeymoon spot. The most beautiful memory of our love.

Now it was just another bargaining chip.

"Where is Nonna?" I asked weakly. It was the only thing I cared about.

Lorenzo's face shifted. "She's… not well. She's in a private care facility."

"I want to see her."

"When you're feeling better…"

"Now." I used my last bit of strength to look him in the eye. "I want to see her now."

Lorenzo opened his mouth, about to argue.

Just then, the door flew open.

Marco rushed in, his face a mask of panic.

"Boss! It's Cassandra. She's locked herself in. She's threatening to kill herself!"

Lorenzo was on his feet in an instant.

He looked at me, a moment of conflict in his eyes. But it only lasted a second.

"I'll be right there," he said to me, then rushed out the door without a backward glance.

For Cassandra. Always for Cassandra.

I closed my eyes, my heart a dead weight in my chest.

"Ma'am…"

A soft voice.

I opened my eyes. A young nurse was standing by my bed.

She glanced nervously down the hall, then pulled a folded paper from her pocket.

"Ma'am, this is your real test result."

My hands trembled as I took it. The diagnosis made my breath catch: rupture of an old abdominal injury with internal bleeding, and traces of psychotropic drugs found in the bloodstream. Immediate surgery required.

"What does this mean?"

The nurse lowered her voice. “Ma’am, your old injury is severe. That drug they gave you? It’s designed to trigger exactly what happened. Someone gave your husband a fake report. They told him it was nothing.”

A fake report. Drugs.

I let out a bitter laugh.

"You need surgery now," the nurse said urgently. "If you wait, it could be fatal!"

I picked up my phone and dialed Lorenzo.

"What is it?" His voice was impatient. In the background, I could hear Cassandra's muffled sobs.

"Lorenzo, I need surgery. Now."

"Isabella, stop causing trouble! Didn't the doctor say it was just a stomach cramp?" he snapped. "Cassandra's in a bad state. I don't have time for your games!"

Beep. Beep. Beep.

He hung up on me.

Games. To him, my life was just a game to get his sympathy.

"Ma'am," the nurse looked at me, worried. "The cost of the surgery…"

"I'll pay for it."

A familiar voice came from the doorway.

I turned my head. Sofia stood there. My friend from prison. The only friend I had left.

She looked like she'd rushed over as soon as she heard.

"Son of a bitch," Sofia swore, her face grim after reading the report. She slapped a black card down for the nurse. "Get her the best doctor, the best medicine. Everything."

The surgery was a success.

Three hours later, I was in the recovery room. Sofia was sitting by my bed, peeling an apple.

"Sofia," I said suddenly. "I need you to do something for me."

"Name it."

"A month from now, I need a new identity. And a passport."

Sofia's hand stilled. She gave me a long, hard look, then nodded.

"Done."

…

An hour later, Lorenzo finally showed up, a guilty look on his face.

"Bella, are you okay? I heard about the surgery."

I looked at him. My heart was a block of ice.

He’d seen the real report. Marco stood behind him, his face pale.

The worry and pain in Lorenzo’s eyes were real. He slammed his fist into the wall.

BAM.

"Bastards!"

He turned back to me, his voice hoarse. "Bella, we looked into it. It was the Viti family doctor… he doctored the report. I'll make him pay."

"And Cassandra?" I asked calmly.

Lorenzo’s expression became complicated.

“She… fell apart when she heard,” he said, forcing the words out. “Threatened to kill herself again. And she used it. It was her second wish.”

My heart sank.

"She wants me to… publicly acknowledge her as my mistress," Lorenzo said, his eyes filled with pain and conflict. "And, until her last wish is granted, I have to stay by her side. Every minute. To protect her until she's stable."

I looked at this man. For the sake of a "wish," he was pushing me away again.

"Bella, trust me," he said, taking my hand. "There's only one left. When this is all over, I swear, I will make it up to you. I'll spend my life making it up to you."