“Send him up,” Alessandro says, his voice carefully controlled.
The courier is young with closely cropped brown hair, maybe mid-twenties, wearing an expensive suit that screams Family money.
He hands me a heavy envelope with the kind of ceremonial wax seal that means this is official business.
“Miss DeLuca,” he says formally. “The Families request your presence at Le Saint-Martin tomorrow evening at eight PM for the announcement of your final trial.”
“Announcement?” Alessandro steps closer to me, his presence solid and reassuring. “Not the trial itself?”
The courier shakes his head. “Just the announcement, sir. Additional instructions will be provided at that time.” The courier’s smile is polite but empty. “Transportation will be provided if needed.”
“That won’t be necessary,” I say, finding my voice. “We’ll be there.”
After he leaves, I stare at the envelope in my hands.
The wax seal bears the combined insignia of all families—a reminder that this isn’t just Dominic Calabrese playing games. This is official Family business.
“Tomorrow night,” I say, more to myself than to Alessandro.
“We knew this was coming,” Alessandro remarks.
“Did we?” I look up at him, and I know he can see the fear in my eyes despite my efforts to hide it. “Because it feels like they’ve been planning something specific while we’ve just been, I don’t know, waiting.”
Alessandro moves around his desk to stand in front of me, his hands settling on my waist as he pulls me into his chest. “I already told you—whatever they announce, we’ll handle it. You’ve passed three trials already, Bianca. You’re stronger now than you were when this started.”
He’s right. Iamstronger.
I’ve discovered things about myself that I never knew existed, learned to embrace parts of my nature that I used to fight against.
But I’m also scared in a way I wasn’t before.
Because now I have something to lose.
Not just my life, but Alessandro. Our future together. The fragile peace I’ve made with Matteo and the family.
“I need to call him,” I say suddenly, pushing away from Alessandro and patting my pockets. “Matteo. He should know about this.”
Forty-five minutes later, we’re back at the compound, this time in the formal sitting room instead of Matteo’s study.
It feels more serious here, with the expensive furniture and family portraits watching from the walls.
Matteo sits across from us, reading the official announcement that came with the envelope.
“‘Final trial to determine suitability for leadership succession,’” he reads aloud, his eyes quickly scanning the text. “‘Trial parameters and objectives will be revealed at the announcement ceremony.’” He looks up at me, his blue-gray eyes serious. “‘Attendance by candidate and approved partner is mandatory.’”
“At least I get to bring Alessandro,” I say, trying to inject some lightness into the moment.
“It’s a grand ceremony,” Matteo continues, scanning the document. “All family heads will be present, plus selected representatives, myself included. This isn’t just about you anymore, Bianca. This is about making a statement to the entire organization.”
I swallow nervously. “What kind of statement?”
“That depends on what they announce.” Matteo sets the papers down, his expression troubled. “The formal ceremony, the mandatory attendance, the emphasis on leadership succession, they’re building this up to be significant.”
“Significant how?” Alessandro asks, though I think we all know the answer.
“Significant enough that failure won’t just mean you don’t inherit,” Matteo says quietly. “It’ll mean public humiliation for our entire family. Maybe worse.”
The weight of that settles over the room.
