Chapter 8

Sienna Vitiello POV

The Moretti Estate blazed against the night sky, a fortress bracing for a coronation.

A parade of luxury cars lined the driveway. The air was heavy with the scent of expensive perfume and roasted meat.

I entered through the servant's entrance.

I wasn't the future Mrs. Moretti anymore. I was a ghost.

I wore a black dress with long sleeves, a high neck, and a plunging open back.

It looked like mourning attire.

I slipped into the ballroom, sticking to the shadows that clung to the perimeter.

I saw them immediately.

Dante and Valeria.

They were standing near the orchestra, holding court.

Valeria was wearing a red dress that demanded attention. She was laughing, her hand resting possessively on Dante's chest.

He looked... content.

He looked like a man who had everything he wanted.

My father was there, talking to the Don. They were laughing.

They didn't know yet.

They didn't know the alliance was dead.

I found Giulia near the chocolate fountain.

"Sienna!" she squealed, nearly tackling me in a tight hug. "You came!"

"Happy birthday, G," I whispered, pressing a small velvet box into her hand.

It was a pair of diamond earrings I had designed myself. The last thing I created before I lost my memory.

She opened it and gasped.

"They're beautiful. But... why do you look like you're saying goodbye?"

"Because I am."

Her face fell.

"Sienna, don't. Dante is just being an idiot. He'll come around."

"He won't," I said, my voice hollow. "And I don't want him to."

The noise of the party began to swell, suffocating me.

"I need air," I told her.

I retreated to one of the guest rooms on the second floor. It was quiet here.

I sat on the edge of the bed, listening to the muffled thrum of music from below.

The door creaked open.

I expected Giulia.

It was Valeria.

She slipped inside and turned the lock with a sharp click.

"Hiding?" she asked, her voice mocking.

I stood up.

"Get out, Valeria."

She walked toward me, running her hand along the antique dresser.

"You know," she said, picking up a heavy silver candelabra. "I always hated you. Even when my husband was alive."

"Why?" I asked. "I never did anything to you."

"Because you were perfect," she spat. "The perfect Vitiello princess. And I was just a soldier's wife."

She stepped closer.

"But now? Now I have everything. I have your job. I have your man."

"He's not a prize, Valeria," I said calmly. "He's a job. And you're welcome to him."

Her eyes narrowed.

"You think you're better than me?"

"I think I'm free," I said.

She laughed, a harsh, brittle sound.

"You're nothing. You're just a failed investment."

She shoved me.

I stumbled back, hitting the heavy curtains.

"Don't touch me," I warned.

She shoved me again, harder.

I grabbed her wrist.

She shrieked and swung the candelabra.

It hit my shoulder with a dull thud of pain.

I pushed her back.

She stumbled, her heels catching on the rug.

She flailed, losing her grip on the heavy silver.

It crashed onto the floor.

The lit candles rolled onto the heavy velvet drapes.

With a terrifying whoosh, the fabric caught fire instantly. The flames licked up the dry material, hungry and fast.

"Fire!" Valeria screamed.

She scrambled toward the door.

It was locked. She fumbled with the latch, panic making her clumsy.

The room filled with acrid smoke.

I coughed, my eyes stinging.

I moved to help her with the door.

She looked at me, her eyes wide with malice.

She shoved me backward, toward the burning curtains.

"Stay there!" she screamed.

She got the door open and slipped through.

Before I could follow, the door slammed shut, and the lock clicked into place.

"Dante!"