Lorenzo's smile is sharp enough to draw blood. "Then Sophia becomes an orphan today."
Well, that is cruel but I don't really care what happens to him.
Lorenzo
The truth is, I never intended to use the debt.
For twelve years, Luna's betrayal has been a wound I refused to examine. The debt her actions created? I pushed it so far down I'd almost convinced myself it didn't exist. Even when I proposed this marriage arrangement to protect Sophia, the debt hadn't crossed my mind.
Not until I stood in that warehouse, watching Francesco try to curse her.
That's when it hit me. The perfect weapon had been sitting there all along, gathering dust in the archives of old rules and older grudges.
"You have twenty-four hours," I tell Francesco, my voice steady despite the chaos in my head. "Make Daniil understand."
Francesco's jaw works like he's chewing glass. "The Commission?—"
"Won't need to be involved if you handle this correctly. But if Daniil pushes this, if he so much as looks at Sophia wrong, I'll call them myself. Every Don from here to New York will know you tried to sell an Italian woman to the Russians to settle your debts when you already owe to us."
The threat lands. Francesco knows what that would mean—complete loss of respect, his family name destroyed, his territory carved up by the other families like Thanksgiving turkey.
"This isn't over," he spits, but the fight has gone out of him.
"Yes," Pietro says from his chair, "it is."
Francesco turns to leave, his men falling in behind him. At the door, he stops, looking back at Sophia. "Your mother would be ashamed of you."
Sophia's spine straightens, her chin lifting. "My mother would be ashamed of you for trying to sell me to a monster."
The door slams behind them.
The silence that follows feels heavy, like the air before a storm. Pietro pours himself a drink and returns to his chair. Sophia stands frozen beside me, her breathing shallow.
"The debt," she whispers. "Is that real?"
"It's real." I don't look at her. Can't.
And now, we need to start planning a wedding.
When a marriage is announced in our world, it must happen. The consequences of breaking that promise...
Pietro's phone cuts through the silence like a blade. He glances at the screen, and something shifts in his expression—a crack in that perpetual mask of control.
"It's Bruno's clinic." His voice carries an edge I haven't heard in months.
We all freeze. Bruno's been in a coma since his wedding day, when bullets meant for Lucrezia caught him instead. The doctors said if he ever woke up, it would be a miracle.
Pietro answers, putting it on speaker without preamble. "Sartori."
Static crackles, then a voice that makes my blood run cold.
"Come and take me from this fucking place."
Bruno.
"Bruno?" Pietro's voice cracks on the name.
"Did I stutter?" The fury in Bruno's voice could melt steel. "Get me out of here. Now."
