Serena POV

The tension in the dining room thickened until the air felt like glass about to shatter.

Dominic had been drinking. The whiskey had stripped the edges from his composure, and he leaned back in his chair, tracking Rosa's every movement as she circled the table to clear the plates.

"Who wouldn't be obsessed with you?" he murmured. "I certainly am."

The hum of the crystal chandelier was the only sound.

Rosa froze. Her training kicked in—her posture went rigid, her hand drifting instinctively toward the knife on the table.

"What the hell are you saying?" she hissed.

I forced a light laugh. "Dom's just talking about your work ethic. I didn't hear anything scandalous."

Rosa exhaled. Her fingers trembled as she grabbed a steak knife, and in her distraction, the blade slipped across her palm. A line of red bloomed against her skin.

"I'll get the first-aid kit," I said.

Before I could rise, Dominic shoved his chair back. He crossed the room and seized Rosa's wrist, inspecting the wound himself—his possessive protectiveness on full display.

"Let go," Rosa whispered, her eyes darting toward me.

Dominic didn't move. He stared down at her until her shoulders dropped in surrender.

I walked to the bathroom and retrieved the heavy trauma kit the Syndicate kept stocked for gunshot wounds. When I returned, Dominic finally released her and stepped back, his expression hardening into ice.

I sat on the Persian rug and pulled Rosa's hand into my lap. I cleaned the cut, applied antiseptic, wrapped it in gauze. I acted as though I hadn't seen a thing.

"The rest of the dinner passed in suffocating silence."

They both piled delicacies onto my plate, driven by a guilt they couldn't voice. They drank glass after glass of whiskey in grim silence until Dominic pushed himself away from the table and relocated to the leather sofa, where he finally passed out.

Rosa hoisted his arm over her shoulder and escorted the Don to his waiting armored SUV.

I stayed behind in the quiet penthouse, mechanically picking up empty glasses and wiping down the table. When I bent to retrieve a napkin near the sofa, my fingers brushed against something cold tangled in the rug fibers.

A diamond necklace. Heavy. The Falcone crest in the center, surrounded by precisely cut stones.

I carried it to my bedroom and pulled out the velvet box Dominic had given me hours earlier. Diamond earrings. I held them side by side.

A flawless match.

I stared at the glittering stones, and the truth settled over me in the dead silence.

I was never his partner. I was an accessory he'd picked up to complete the set he intended for her.

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