ella

Rosa moved int

oom. Into my room.

wall. It was more than degradation; it was a public execution of my identity. Every servant in the household saw it. They saw her

later, his voice muffled through the locked wood of my new prison-that he and Rosa needed

the back o

laughter echo from the main part of the house. I felt myself withering. The tiny life inside me felt less like a bless

to my door. She didn'

-satisfied smirk playing on her lips. "It's a bit small

, my hatred so palpable it felt like

different tactic.

e hoarse. "I'll sign whatever you w

the smile of a predator that knows its prey is already

usty windowsill. "I don't just want the man. I want the throne. I want to be

al blow, stealing the air from my lungs. It wa

I whispered. "You're ju

saw there was pure and terrifying. "And you're just a polished orphan

door. "Vincent feels guilty about lock

my phone on

calculated move, I knew. A way for him to ease his

hands shaking. I ignored the missed calls and texts from friends. I scrolled throug

o R

ago, a private investigator had found me, bringing a letter and a photograph from a man who claimed to be my biological father. A man named Enzo Rossi-the undisputed Capo di

incent. I had my family, my life. I'd politely d

is phone was my only key. A direct line to th

led as it hover

o R

d the ca