She’d always known she’d be traded eventually. Not rescued. Not released. Traded. She simply hadn’t known when—or towhom.
A strange, hollow calm settled over her. So this was the moment the years of obedience had been building toward. Not forgiveness. Not gratitude. Transfer.
And the worst part was that a small, disciplined corner of her mind determined the efficiency of it. The Donatis wouldn’t collect another payment. Instead, they were sweetening the contract, folding her remaining balance into the larger negotiation as a small bonus to secure favorable terms. The Severins would gain leverage. And she would move from one column to another without ever being asked whether she wished to exist outside the ledger atall.
Magnus didn’t react outwardly. “On what terms?”
Bianca didn’t look at Elia when she answered. “She would be yours. Permanently.”
Elia’s heart pounded once, hard, against her ribs.She kept her chin lifted.
Magnus considered her for a long moment. “And what does Elia want?”
No one had ever asked her that questionin thisroom.
Bianca’s gaze sharpened slightly, but her expression remained unreadable.
Elia forced her voice to remain steady. “I serve where I’m placed.”
Magnus held her gaze. “That wasn’t my question.”
Something inside her trembled, not from fear but from the unfamiliar sensation of being seen as something other than an object. “I want… safety.”
The word hung betweenthem.
Lorenzo scoffed.
Magnus’s eyes flicked toward him, then back to her. “Understood.”
Bianca rose gracefully and inclined her head. “Then we’re agreed.The terms of the contract can be finalized at your discretion. Just consider this an added consideration—an act of goodwill to secure our mutual interests.”
For one fragile second, Elia refused to think about whether Don Vittorio knew. If he did, he’d allowed it. If he didn’t, it meant he no longer oversaw everything in this house. The room tilted slightly.It was happening.
Magnus stood.
He was far taller than she’d realized, presence expanding to fill the space without visible effort. He extended his hand toward her, not touching, simply offering.“Elia.”
She stepped forward.Her fingers hovered before settlinginto hispalm.
His hand closed around hers gently. Not possessive.Not claiming.Steady.
Lorenzo’s muscles tightened almost imperceptibly.
Bianca watched it all.“You will gather your things,” she said to Elia, voice smooth. “You leave now.”
Now.
No farewell dinner. No ceremony.
Elia inclined her head. “Yes, Madam.”
Magnus released her hand once the gesture had served its purpose. “I’ll have a car brought to the front.”
He left without another glance, as if the room had already been assessed, weighed, and dismissed as unworthy of further attention.
The door closed behind him with a final click.
Elia stood very still.
