The day before my departure, Sofia dragged me out for one final "distraction".

I was dumped in a corner of the dock. Spotting Marco approaching in the distance, Sofia rushed towards him, overcome with emotion.

"Marco! I've missed you terribly..."

Marco embraced her, his face etched with worry. "Sofia, I heard the Moretti family wanted a Falconi daughter. I feared Don Falconi would send you. I've been sleepless for nights."

Sofia snorted derisively. "Me marry Vincenzo? Of course that fool will go in my stead. She's nothing but debt collateral."

"Who in the underworld doesn't know Vincenzo's a sickly weakling? His father, Don Antonio, favours his illegitimate son back in Sicily. Vincenzo won't last long. Marrying him means living as a widow while waiting to be purged. It's suicide."

She stroked her belly coyly. "Besides, I'm carrying your child..."

Marco's eyes flashed with wild delight. "Really? Then your marriage to Leo Balzini must be arranged immediately. Once you're Mrs Balzini, don't forget about me..."

"As long as our child becomes the heir to the Balzini family, in time, all of New York will be ours!"

Hidden behind a shipping container, I polished off a bag of crisps, leaving only a trail of crumbs.

Every word of their conversation was crystal clear to me.

So that was it.

Marco’s target had never been the Falcone family—it was the Balzini. He and Sofia intended to use a bastard child to seize a vast Mafia empire.

What audacity.

Though I wonder if that audacity will be their undoing.

Early the next morning, I was shoved into a black Rolls-Royce.

Before getting in, Sofia handed me a glass of water in front of her father, containing a dissolved pill.

Her icy voice threatened in my ear.

"Alesia, remember this: keep your mouth shut about what you shouldn't say."

"Once we're at the Moretti residence, you're a mute, a simpleton. Dare betray the Falconi family, and the next dose of this will rot your guts to shreds. You'll die a more wretched death than a stray dog on the street."

I drank the water expressionlessly. The doors slammed shut, sealing out their hypocritical faces.

Immediately, I forced my fingers deep into my throat with all my strength. After a violent retching, I spat out a pool of bitter fluid, the pill mostly expelled.

Yet I felt a secret, burning ache in my lower abdomen.

This poison was fiercer than I’d imagined.

Half an hour later, the convoy slowly entered a vast estate encircled by forest and high walls. The car stopped before a villa resembling a palace.

A stifled cough sounded from outside.

A slender hand, pale as translucent porcelain, opened the carriage door for me.

I lifted my gaze to meet a handsome yet bloodless face. Seated in a wheelchair, his eyes were as deep and icy as a frozen lake.

Vincenzo Moretti.

"Miss Falconé, marrying me must be a hardship for you."

His voice was low, tinged with a sickly hoarseness, yet strangely pleasing.

As I stepped out, my legs buckled, and I nearly stumbled. He reached out, steadying my arm with surprising firmness.

My heart lurched.

That grip was steady and powerful—utterly unlike that of a long-suffering invalid.

It seemed the heir to the Moretti fortune was an actor too.

...

There was no wedding ceremony, no guests, not even a priest. I was led directly into a vast, empty bedroom. It felt less like a bridal chamber and more like a gilded cage.

The clamour outside held no sway over me. Late into the night, Vincenzo finally rolled in alone on his wheelchair.

The sound of its wheels echoed sharply through the silent room, each click pressing down on my heart. He halted before me, silently appraising me. His gaze was like a scalpel—sharp and cold, as if intent on dissecting me from the inside out.

After a moment, he reached out, attempting to touch my face.

I flinched away.

Then, meeting his eyes, I spoke in a voice rough and unfamiliar, as though unused for ages, enunciating each word deliberately:

"I... am... poison."

His hand froze mid-air, genuine surprise flickering in his eyes. Clearly, he hadn't expected a "fool" to speak, much less utter such words.

I lowered my head and continued in that halting tone, delivering the prepared speech in its entirety.

"My... family... does not favour you. They... wish to defect to the Balzini. They... poisoned me. If you... touch me, you will die."

Vincenzo studied me for an age, so long I thought he might order my execution outright.