My father denying me. Viktor destroying us. The families turning hostile.
And Cesare—still standing tall, still fighting, but I could see the cracks.
This was killing him. His reputation, his power—crumbling because of me.
I pulled away from Cesare's hand.
"Paola—"
"I need air." My voice sounded distant. "I can't—I need to leave."
"Don't." His hand caught mine. "We face this together. Remember?"
But I couldn't. Couldn't stand here while they dissected my life, my choices, my worth. I pulled free, pushed through the crowd toward the exit. Behind me, I heard Cesare call my name.
I didn't stop.
Almost through the door when a hand caught my arm.
Not Cesare.
Viktor.
"Mrs. Monti. Leaving so soon?" His grip was firm, just shy of painful.
"Let me go."
"I don't think so. You and I need to have a conversation." Viktor steered me toward a side corridor.
Panic spiked through me. "Cesare—"
"Is busy trying to salvage his reputation. Which gives us a moment." He opened a door—a coat check room, empty, private—and guided me inside.
The door closed. We were alone.
"What do you want?" I demanded.
Viktor leaned against the door, blocking my exit. "To talk. About your options."
"I don't have options. You made sure of that."
"On the contrary." He studied me like a specimen. "You know Cesare can't recover from this. His reputation is destroyed. The families won't trust him."
Each word was a knife.
"Within a month, maybe less, someone will challenge him. Maybe me. Maybe another Don. He'll be forced out. Possibly killed."
"You're trying to scare me."
"I'm telling you reality. But you—you could survive this. If you make the right choice."
"What choice?"
"Leave him. Publicly. Denounce the marriage. Claim you were forced, deceived, coerced. Play the victim."
My stomach turned. "You want me to betray him."
"I want you to survive."
