Chapter 1

For three days, I hadn't knocked on Dante's door.

Yet he came to find me—right when I no longer needed him.

"Elara." The way he said my name always sounded like a command.

Low, restrained, allowing no argument.

I didn't turn around. I just folded the shirt in my hands and placed it into the open suitcase.

Dante took two steps closer, his gaze falling on my luggage. "You've been very well-behaved these past few days," he said. "Finally come to your senses."

Come to my senses.

I almost laughed.

Of course I had.

Because Nico was dead.

Three days ago, when that funding never came through and his treatment was forced to stop, he died in that hospital bed he'd been lying in for two years.

He died right in front of me.

And the man standing behind me—my fiancé, the Godfather of the Moretti family—knew nothing about it.

That life-saving money was still working its way through the system.

Utterly absurd.

I pressed the last piece of clothing into the suitcase. The zipper caught for a moment. I yanked it hard, and the metal teeth made a harsh grinding sound.

"What are you doing?" Dante asked.

Packing my bags to leave this godforsaken place, obviously.

I turned to face him.

That face was still breathtakingly handsome. Once upon a time, I had been so captivated by him.

"Just organizing some old clothes," I said.

Dante seemed even more satisfied. Because I hadn't brought up the name that always irritated him.

"Good," he said. "Stop coming to me over and over about Nico. Celine is already handling it."

Celine.

My heart ached with a suffocating pain.

Of course Celine was handling it.

Her way of handling it was: making me sign forms again and again, submit supplementary materials again and again, file applications again and again—only to reject them again and again.

The reasons could fill a thick book.

—Improper formatting.

—Recipient information needs updating.

—Emergency funds require secondary authorization.

—Budget category mismatch; internal reassessment required.

—The Godfather is in a meeting; he cannot be disturbed.

—You don't understand how things work, Elara.

Even with my eyes closed, I could picture her sitting behind her desk, smiling as she pushed the documents back to me.

"Don't rush, Elara. The more you rush, the more mistakes you'll make."

Then the very next second, she would turn and walk into Dante's office, standing by his side, speaking in soft whispers.

"I've tried every channel I can." Her eyes would glisten with tears. "I really did my best, but procedures are procedures... I just don't want her to upset you because she doesn't understand the rules."

When I rushed to Dante's study—"Nico can't hold on much longer."

What I always got was that one glance as he looked up, his gaze so calm it was almost cruel.

"Elara," he would say, "you need to learn to do things by the rules."

Rules.

Rules could keep the Moretti family stable and strong. Rules could also let an eighteen-year-old boy wait in the ICU until his heart stopped beating.

"Elara, please don't do this." Celine would say softly. "You're putting the Godfather in a difficult position."

Of course Dante believed her.

He would look at me like I was an ignorant nuisance.

"Enough," he would say. "Stop making a scene."

Making a scene.

For Nico's life, I had run to the hospital, to the finance office, to the notary, over and over, until my knees were raw.

And in his eyes, that was making a scene.

When I came back to myself, I found Dante still watching me, as if waiting for me to say something.

He thought these three days of silence meant I had finally accepted my place.

He didn't know I no longer needed to make noise.

Nico was already dead.

He would never smile at me again.

"Is there something else?" I asked calmly.

Even I was startled by my own words.

Dante's brow twitched slightly. He walked to the bed and lightly touched the zipper of my suitcase. "You'd better keep this cooperative attitude. Don't let me hear you've gone to cause trouble with Celine again."

I looked at his hand.

That hand had once slipped a matching ring onto my finger and told me: You've belonged to this family since birth. You are mine.

That same hand had failed to approve Nico's medical funding in time.

I lifted my gaze back to his face and gave him the answer he wanted: "I won't."

Dante nodded coldly. "Don't cause me any trouble."

He turned and left.

I really wouldn't cause any more trouble.

There was no need.

Every second I spent here reminded me of Nico.

Now I just wanted to get out of this godforsaken place.