A threat, wrapped in logic. If I didn’t agree, something bad would happen to Mother and Father. I dug my nails into my palms, forcing back tears.
"You were born to serve this family. You'll do your duty." He pressed a button on his desk. "Vivian will show you out. We'll be in touch regarding the arrangements."
Dismissed. Like a servant. Like property.
I stood on shaking legs, dignity the only thing I had left. "My name is Julietta Bennett."
"Not anymore." He turned back to the window. "The girl you were died today. Welcome to your real life, Julietta Altieri."
The elevator descended in silence. Each floor felt like a year falling away—eighteen years of believing I was Julietta Bennett, sheltered daughter of a hedge fund manager. Loved. Safe. Real.
All of it, a lie.
Martin stood beside the car, concern etching deeper lines into his face when he saw me. "Miss Julietta? Are you alright?"
I forced my features into composure, the mask I'd worn my entire life. "I'm fine."
"You don't look—"
"Please." My voice cracked. I cleared my throat, tried again. "Please don't tell them I left the house. Not yet."
He studied me for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "Of course, miss."
The drive home blurred past. I watched the city slide by—people living normal lives, unaware that someone's entire world could shatter in a single afternoon. The truth sat like a stone in my stomach, heavy and cold.
You were born to serve this family. You'll do your duty.
By the time we pulled into the circular drive, I'd steeled myself. Mother would have questions if I looked upset. The party was in three hours. I needed to be perfect.
I spent the evening playing my role flawlessly. Smiling at Mother's friends. Accepting birthday wishes from people whose names I couldn't remember. Cutting the cake, opening presents, laughing at the right moments.
The perfect daughter.
The valuable pawn.
No one suspected a thing.
That night, after the last guest had left and the caterers had cleared away the champagne flutes, I stared at my reflection in the vanity mirror. Mascara smudged beneath red-rimmed eyes, lipstick bitten away. The face looking back at me belonged to a stranger.
Bennett or Altieri? Beloved daughter or valuable pawn? The person I thought I was had never existed.
"Who am I now?" I whispered to my reflection.
Only silence answered.
Chapter 1
Dante
The weight of the rifle felt like an extension of my body. Cold metal against warm flesh, the textured grip rough against my calloused fingertips. I'd been in position for three hours, the rooftop gravel digging into my elbows, but discomfort was a distant sensation—something happening to someone else. The scent of tar and concrete dust filled my nostrils with each shallow breath.
Below me, the Altieri family's annual charity gala spilled light and music across the harbor. The distant strains of a string quartet floated up through the night air. Floor-to-ceiling windows made it a fishbowl. Made them all targets. The glittering chandeliers cast diamond-like reflections across the water's surface.
I adjusted the scope, zeroing in on the main ballroom. The soft click of precision engineering whispered in my ears. Waiters in white jackets. Security with earpieces trying to look invisible. Cartel lieutenantspretending to be businessmen. The air around me cooled as a breeze swept across the rooftop, carrying the faint salt tang of the harbor.
And her.
Julietta Altieri. Twenty-three years old. Auburn hair swept into an elegant chignon that exposed the vulnerable curve of her neck. Emerald dress that clung to curves but revealed nothing, the fabric catching the light when she moved. A contradiction wrapped in silk.
