Chapter 3

The Vitiello Anniversary Gala was more than just a party; it was the social event of the underworld season. It was where truces were toasted with vintage champagne and hits were ordered with a subtle nod.

Dante had insisted I attend. He wanted to show the world that the Vitiello family was whole. He wanted to parade his miracle.

I wore a black dress. It was silk, backless, and looked like mourning couture tailored for a runway.

We entered the ballroom, and the silence was instant. Three hundred predators stopped eating to stare at the woman who had clawed her way out of a grave.

Dante held my arm tightly, his grip possessive.

My parents were at the head table. They smiled nervously, raising their glasses in a hollow salute. They were sitting next to the Bianchis.

Then, the doors opened again.

Sofia entered.

She wore red. Blood red. A statement.

She held Leo's hand.

The crowd parted for her like the Red Sea. She walked with her chin high, the usurper Queen coming to claim her territory.

She walked straight up to us.

"Dante," she purred, kissing his cheek. "And Elena. You look... tired."

She turned to Leo. "Look, Leo. Say hello to the lady."

Leo looked at me. He was wearing a miniature tuxedo and looked so much like his father.

I knelt down. I reached out a hand. "Leo, it's me. It's Mommy."

Leo recoiled. He buried his face in Sofia's red skirt.

"No!" he shouted. His voice echoed in the silent hall. "You're the monster! Mama said you're a ghost! Go away!"

The room gasped.

I felt like I had been gutted. I looked up at Dante. Do something, I pleaded silently. Tell him.

Dante looked at the crowd. I saw his eyes dart to the Bianchi soldiers watching, gauging the trembling political alliance.

"Leo is confused," Dante said loudly, addressing the room. "It has been a long time."

He didn't correct the boy. He didn't push Sofia away.

My mother rushed over. She put her arm around Sofia. "Oh, he's just tired, poor thing. Sofia is such a good mother to him."

The betrayal was total. My own blood had chosen the winning side.

Sofia smiled down at me. It was a smile of pure victory.

"You should go rest, Elena," she whispered, low enough that only I could hear. "The dead shouldn't haunt the living. It scares the children."

She pulled a small box from her clutch and pressed it into my hand. "A welcome back gift."

I opened it. It was a one-way plane ticket to Switzerland.

I stood up. The grief in my chest crystallized into something sharp and cold. Ice.

Dante tried to take my hand again. He raised a glass. "To family," he announced.

"To family," the room echoed.

I looked at the candle flickering on the table.

I leaned in close to Dante.

"Enjoy your toast," I whispered. "Because I am going to burn them all."

Sofia's smile faltered. She grabbed her chest, letting out a dramatic gasp. "Oh! I feel faint!"

Dante immediately let go of my arm. "Sofia!"

He caught her as she swooned, a perfect, practiced faint.

"Get the car!" he yelled to his men.

He scooped her up in his arms, cradling her like she was precious glass. He rushed toward the exit, Leo running behind him, crying for his Mama.

I stood alone in the center of the ballroom.

Three hundred people watched the Don carry his mistress away and leave his wife standing in the wreckage.

I turned to a waiter passing by with a tray of champagne.

I took a glass.

I drank it in one swallow.

Then I smashed the glass on the floor.