ella

nds didn't just shatter the solemn silence of my f

erile, tomb-like room at the Falcone Sanitarium. The air smelled of bleach and despair. I remembered kneel

ver me, tilting this exact silver box, dumping its contents over my trembling body. Dozens of letters had fluttered down like black snow. I had scrambled to read them, my heart shatte

ow, it was my sharpest weapon. I knew exac

my father thundered, his voice

er at Bianca. "You dare?" he spat, his eyes wild. "You insolent puttana (whore)! Don Marco, are you going

eyes. "Izzy... sister, why?" she sobbed, her voice trembling with perfect, rehearsed agony. "I know you hate me for Dante's ch

ted front of righteous indignation, de

ce with a response. I simply met Bianca's

irectly on my father's mahogany desk. Don Marco and my mother, Sofia, reached i

anned the familiar handwriting-Eva's elegant, looping script and Dante's sharp, aggressive scrawl

a forged these-" Dante started, tak

inished th

delivered a resounding, vicious slap across the girl's face. The crack echoed through the study

. "Animale senza onore! (Animal without honor!)" Tears of absolute disgust welled in her eyes

and hurled it violently at them. The heavy metal struck Dante's chest, and the lette

absolute destruction. "Fine! I will give you exactly what you want! I will make sure every fam

of her sins. The fragile, innocent mask was entirely gone, replaced