Domenico went rigid.

A flash of disbelief crossed his eyes, and his brow furrowed deeper than before.

Olimpia froze too. She even forgot to keep crying.

I pulled out a handkerchief, wiped the wine from my hands, then crouched down.

I picked up the shards of glass from the floor one by one, bare-handed, and dropped them into the trash bin nearby.

When I was done, I stood and looked at Domenico.

"My clothes are stained. I'm going upstairs to change."

I turned and walked toward the second floor, my spine perfectly straight.

His gaze stayed glued to my back the entire way.

Back in the bedroom, I shut the door.

I leaned against it and closed my eyes.

Seven years of devotion. Today, that chapter was finally over.

The phone on the nightstand lit up.

An encrypted message from Russo Valente.

"Giuliana, the flight route has been approved. The Valente Family's security detail will arrive in the Capital in three days. Whatever the Corrados owe you, I'll make them pay back tenfold. A hundredfold."

I stared at the message. My eyes burned with heat.

My fingers drifted to the bare space on my right ring finger where the Matriarch's ring had sat for years. The skin there was smooth, lighter than the rest. I pressed it once and let my hand fall.

The bedroom door swung open without warning.

Domenico strode in on those long legs, his sharp gaze locking onto the phone in my hand. Two of his soldiers stood in the hallway behind him, eyes forward, pretending they hadn't followed him up.

He crossed the room in three steps and snatched it away.

The screen went dark at that exact moment.

He didn't try to unlock it. He tossed it onto the soft carpet like it was nothing.

Then he reached out and gripped my chin, forcing my face up toward his.

"Downstairs just now. Why didn't you put up a fight?" His tone was probing, almost suspicious.

I met his eyes. My voice was flat, without a single ripple of emotion.

"You've always said my temper is too much. That I should learn to be more generous. I gave her the ring and the necklace. Isn't that exactly what you wanted?"

Something complicated flickered through his gaze. His thumb moved against the signet ring on his right hand, a slow half-rotation, then stopped.

He released my chin, wrapped both arms around my waist, and pulled me against his chest.

He smelled of faint tobacco and Olimpia's perfume.

The two scents tangled together, and my stomach turned.

Domenico lowered his head, his lips brushing the shell of my ear.

"Giuliana, I know today was hard on you. Olimpia's older sister was crippled saving my life years ago. I owe a blood debt. It falls on me to take care of Olimpia."

"As long as you behave yourself and stay in line, there will always be a place for you in the Corrado family. You'll still be the woman who's been by my side the longest."

He was making me a promise. Delivered from on high, like charity tossed to a beggar.

He actually expected me to be grateful.

A frantic knock came from outside the door.

Olimpia's delicate voice drifted through the wood.

"Domenico, my chest hurts all of a sudden. Can you come be with me?"

His arms dropped from my waist instantly.

Not a second of hesitation. He turned to leave.

At the doorway, he paused and looked back.

"There's a family gala tomorrow night. I'm bringing Olimpia. She just got back to the country and doesn't have a proper gown." His eyes swept over me, utterly matter-of-fact. "That Starlight couture piece in your closet. Have the housekeeper take it to Olimpia tomorrow so it can be altered to fit her."

I stared at him in disbelief.

That Starlight gown. Five years ago, when he first claimed me as his woman before the entire Corrado inner circle, he had flown in a top French designer to create it for me, tailored to every measurement of my body.

Nine hundred and ninety-nine crystals, hand-set along the hem.

I had treated that dress like a treasure. I wouldn't even let the housekeepers touch it.

Once, a new maid had snuck it out to try on. The moment I found out, I had her dismissed and sent packing from the Capital entirely.

Domenico had praised me for it at the time. He said what was mine was mine, and no one else had the right to lay a finger on it.

Now he'd asked me, straight to my face, to give that gown to Olimpia.

My fingers curled inward, nails digging so deep into my palms they nearly drew blood.

I looked at Domenico's expression, so utterly matter-of-fact, and slowly nodded. "Fine. I'll have someone deliver it tomorrow."

Domenico held my gaze for a long moment, then pushed the door open and walked out.

From the hallway came the soft murmur of his voice, gentle and soothing, comforting Olimpia. Then the click of the neighboring room's door shutting behind them.

I turned and walked to the desk. Pulled open the drawer. Took out a desk calendar.

I picked up a red marker and drew a heavy X over today's date.

Two more days until Russo came for me.

I peeled off the wine-stained gown and stepped into the bathroom. Warm water streamed over my body. I stared at the pale face in the mirror.

Domenico Corrado, seven years ago you pulled me from that car wreck and gave me a second life.

For seven years, I took knives for you. I handled the things you couldn't let see the light of day. I managed the Corrado household so you never had to. The soldiers' disputes, the wives who needed settling, the books that couldn't be shown to anyone outside these walls.

We stopped owing each other a long time ago.

The next morning.

I followed Domenico's instructions and had the maid deliver the Starlight couture gown to Olimpia's room.

Olimpia made a point of having her door left wide open.

As I passed through the hallway, I saw her in front of the mirror, twirling in the gown that clearly didn't fit her, the fabric bunching and pulling in all the wrong places.

She picked up a pair of scissors and, without a second's hesitation, cut away the most intricate panel of crystal-beaded tulle from the hem.

"This design is so dated. It'll look better shorter." Olimpia pouted at the maid standing beside her.

The maid stole a cautious glance toward me in the doorway and said nothing.

I didn't stop. I walked straight to the kitchen.

Domenico had drunk heavily the night before. He had a serious stomach condition, and after every night of heavy drinking, he needed a bowl of specially prepared herbal stomach-healing soup.

For seven years, I'd been the one to brew it for him by hand.

I stood at the stove, watching the liquid roll and simmer inside the clay pot. The kitchen was quiet. One of the compound guards passed the window on his morning patrol, his shadow crossing the glass and disappearing.

This was the last time I would ever make this for him.

I ladled the soup into a thermal flask, set it on a tray, and carried it toward Domenico's study.

The study door was slightly ajar. Inside, I could hear Domenico talking with his Consigliere, Zaccaria Delgado.

I was about to raise my hand and knock when Zaccaria's voice carried through the gap, clear as day.

"Domenico, don't you think you went too far this time? You took back the Matriarch's ring, gave away the necklace, and now you've handed the Starlight gown to Olimpia. Giuliana followed you for seven years. She'd have laid down her life for you. Are you really trying to push her out the door?"

My hand froze. I stood perfectly still.

Domenico's voice came next, cold and detached.

"Where would she go? She's a woman with no family, no name, no protection. She can't even remember her own past. Besides the Corrado Family, she has nowhere."

"I've spoiled her too much these seven years. Her temper's gotten out of control. Olimpia just came back. Giuliana needs to learn her place."

"I'm going to strip that pride right off her bones. Make her understand who the real master of this house is. Once she accepts reality and falls in line, I'll keep a room for her here. She'll be fed and clothed. She should be grateful."

Zaccaria sighed. I heard the faint press of glass against wood as he set his drink down.

"You keep humiliating her like this, aren't you afraid she'll actually give up on you?"

Domenico let out a laugh, quiet and dripping with contempt.

"Give up? The greatest skill Giuliana has ever possessed is clinging to me like a vine. She can't survive without me."

The tray tilted slightly in my hands.

A few drops of scalding soup splashed over the rim and landed on the back of my hand. The skin swelled red instantly.

I didn't feel a thing.

My thumb drifted to the bare space on my right ring finger where the Matriarch's ring had sat for years. The skin there was smooth and pale, a band of absence. I pressed into it once, hard, and then let go.

I looked at that carved wooden door, still slightly ajar, and set the tray down on the console table outside.

I picked up the insulated thermos and walked to the end of the hallway.

A pot of exquisitely rare orchids sat there on a stand, the kind Domenico kept because they signaled taste to the men who visited his study.

I tilted my wrist and poured every last drop of the herbal stomach-healing soup I'd spent three hours brewing into the soil.

That was when Olimpia appeared, wearing the gown that had been slashed to ribbons.

She watched me pour out the soup, a smug little smile curling at the corner of her lips.

"Giuliana, Domenico just told me the master bedroom gets better natural light. He said it would help with my recovery."

"He wants me to move in tonight. So you might want to start packing your things to make room."

The master bedroom in the Corrado estate. I'd lived there for five full years. Every corner of it held traces of the life Domenico and I had shared.

I looked at Olimpia's gloating face and nodded.

"Sure. I'll go pack now."

I walked into the master bedroom. I didn't take any of the jewelry. I didn't take a single designer handbag Domenico had bought me.

All I grabbed was a black duffel bag. I packed a few basic changes of clothes and my identification documents.

My phone buzzed.

A message from my eldest brother.

"Giuliana, the process of erasing all social traces tied to the Giuliana Chambers identity has begun."

I zipped the duffel shut, gripped the handle, and walked out of the master bedroom.

I moved into the most remote guest room in the villa.

It was normally used for storing junk. The air carried a faint smell of mildew. No soldier stood post outside this door. No one in the compound would think to check it.

I set the duffel on the narrow single bed in the corner and didn't touch anything else in the room.

Twelve hours. That was all that stood between me and leaving.

By evening, heavy snow had begun to fall.

Domenico wrapped up a sit-down with his caporegimes at the social club and returned to the villa carrying the cold in with him.

He strode into the main hall, swept his gaze across the room, and his brow furrowed immediately.

A housekeeper delivered the report in a trembling voice.

"Don Corrado, Miss Chambers moved to the storage room in the north wing today."

Domenico's expression darkened instantly.

He cut through the hallway in long strides and kicked the storage room door open.

The wooden door slammed against the wall with a deafening crack.

I'd been sitting on the edge of the bed watching the snow. I turned to look at him.

Domenico crossed the room in two steps, his gaze raking over the shabby space before landing on the deflated duffel bag resting at the head of the bed.

"What kind of stunt are you pulling now?" His voice was sharp, accusatory. "Olimpia only said she wanted the master bedroom. Who told you to move into a place like this? Are you trying to guilt-trip me?"

I stood and met his eyes levelly.

"All the other guest rooms are filled with Miss Ferrante's luggage. This was the only one empty. It doesn't matter to me where I sleep."

My flat, unbothered tone infuriated him.

He seized my wrist, his grip brutal.

My sleeve was wrenched upward, exposing a vicious scar that ran more than five inches along my forearm.

Three years ago, I'd thrown myself in front of him to block an assassination attempt by a rival family's enforcer. A combat knife had gone straight through my forearm. I'd nearly bled out on the operating table.

Domenico stared at the scar. There wasn't a shred of sympathy in his eyes. Only irritation.

"Do you walk around with this scar on display every day just to remind me I owe you?"

"Olimpia is easily frightened. She saw the scar on your arm today and was so shaken she couldn't even finish lunch."

"Starting tomorrow, you wear long sleeves inside this house. If you can't manage that, then move out to the gatehouse by the front entrance for a few days. Stay out of Olimpia's sight."

Every word was designed to cut. He was trying to wound me, trying to provoke me into the kind of desperate, heartbroken defense I would have mounted before.

He was waiting for me to break. Waiting for me to crumble, to bow my head and beg for forgiveness.

I looked at his face, twisted with fury, and felt nothing but calm.

I didn't argue. I didn't cry.

I pulled free of his grip, turned, and picked up the black duffel bag.

"Fine. I'll move to the gatehouse right now."

I lifted the bag, stepped past him, and walked straight for the door.

Domenico completely lost it.

He hadn't gotten the reaction he wanted. My compliance, in his eyes, had become the most brazen provocation imaginable. His thumb moved to his right hand on instinct, rolling the heavy signet ring in a slow, grinding rotation, but there was no dominance to assert here. Only a woman walking away from him without flinching.

He stormed after me, ripped the bag from my hand, and threw open the front door of the villa.

Wind and snow howled into the foyer. The two soldiers posted at the entrance stiffened but did not move. They knew better than to interfere when the Don's voice carried that pitch.

Domenico hurled my bag into the snowdrift outside and jabbed a finger toward the darkness beyond the threshold.

"Giuliana, since you love putting on this little act so much, then get the hell out of this house! Don't ever come back!"

"I'd love to see how long a woman with no family, no name, and no protection survives in this blizzard without me!"

I stood in the doorway wearing nothing but a thin cashmere sweater.

The wind cut across my face like a blade.

I looked at the bag lying in the snow. Without a moment's hesitation, I stepped over the threshold.

One step after another, I walked into the storm. I never looked back.

Domenico stood inside, watching me go. Then he slammed the door shut.

The heavy thud echoed through the snowy night.

I trudged into the snow, bent down, and picked up the duffel bag. I brushed the powder off its surface. My fingers found the bare space on my right ring finger and pressed there, briefly, before letting go.

My phone screen lit up.

It was a voice call from my brother, Russo Valente.

"Giuliana, the Valente Family convoy has entered the Capital. Half an hour, and I'll be there to take you home."