Chapter 2

Vivia Genovese POV

The sun was bleeding over the horizon as our convoy swept through the heavy iron gates of the Moretti estate.

They closed behind us with a finality that made my stomach turn.

I was no longer just Vivia Genovese.

I was Mrs. Moretti.

But not the version I had practiced writing in my notebooks for a decade.

Dante ignored the driver and opened my door himself.

His hand was warm on my lower back, guiding me toward the massive double doors of the main house.

The heat of his palm seeped through the silk of my dress, branding me.

We hadn't spoken much in the car.

The silence hadn't been awkward; it was heavy, charged with a tension that made the air feel thick enough to choke on.

We entered the master suite.

It was dark, masculine, saturated with the scent of leather and sandalwood.

"Sleep," Dante commanded, loosening his tie. "We have breakfast with the Elders in four hours."

He didn't touch me again.

He slept on the far side of the massive bed, still and silent as a statue, while I stared at the ceiling, listening to the frantic beat of my own terrified heart.

Morning came relentlessly.

I sat at the long mahogany table, my spine rigid.

Dante sat at the head, drinking espresso, his eyes scanning a report on his tablet.

The Elders, the ancient pillars of the family, ate in silence.

Silas's chair was empty.

So was the chair set for his wife.

"Where are they?" one of the Elders rasped, tapping his cane against the floor.

"Absent," Dante said, not looking up. "Disrespecting the tradition."

The Elder scoffed. "A boy who leaves gold for gravel deserves neither."

Dante's phone buzzed against the wood.

He stood up, buttoning his suit jacket with practiced precision.

"I have a Commission meeting to handle the fallout," he said, looking directly at me. "Stay within the walls, Vivia."

It was an order, not a request.

He left without a kiss, without a softening of his eyes.

I spent the day wandering the gardens, feeling like a ghost haunting a stranger's palace.

The sun was setting when a garish red sports car screeched into the driveway.

Silas.

And her.

I stood by the fountain, watching them approach.

Silas looked disheveled, his eyes wild.

Lola was clinging to his arm, wearing a dress that was too short and too tight, displaying a mottled constellation of love bites on her neck.

She looked around the estate with hungry, calculating eyes.

Silas saw me and stopped.

"Vivia," he breathed, his voice cracking. "What are you doing in the main house?"

I smoothed the skirt of my dress. "I live here, Silas."

He laughed, a nervous, jagged sound. "Don't be dramatic. I know Uncle Dante just did that for show. To save face."

He took a step toward me, reaching out.

"It was a mistake, Viv," he said, his eyes pleading. "Lola... she was in trouble. She needed me. I had to save her. You understand, right? You've always been the understanding one."

Lola stepped forward, resting her head on his shoulder, smirking at me.

"He has a hero complex," she purred, her voice grating. "He couldn't just leave me."

I looked at them.

I looked at the boy I thought was my soulmate, standing next to a woman who looked at him like he was an ATM.

"You left me at the altar," I said, my voice devoid of emotion.

"I panicked!" Silas shouted, throwing his hands up. "But we can fix this. I talked to Lola. She's okay with it."

"Okay with what?" I asked.

"With you," Silas said, smiling as if he had solved a complex puzzle. "You can still be with me. We just... adjust the arrangement. You can be my second."

The world tilted on its axis.

He wanted me to be his mistress.

Me.

A Genovese.

Lola giggled. "I don't mind sharing, as long as I'm the main course."

Something inside me snapped.

It wasn't a loud snap.

It was the quiet sound of a tether being cut.

"Move your things to the Guest Wing," I said coldly. "Dante doesn't want trash in the main hall."

Silas's face darkened. "Don't speak about her like that. And don't quote Dante to me. He's just holding my seat until I fix this."

He grabbed Lola's hand and stormed past me toward the house.

I stood there for a moment, shaking.

Then I walked to the Guest Wing.

I needed to purge him.

I went into the room where his old things were stored.

Boxes of memories.

Letters.

Gifts.

On top of a pile sat a paper lantern.

We had bought it together in Chinatown when we were sixteen.

He had written Forever on the side in black marker.

Silas appeared in the doorway, breathless.

He saw me holding the lantern.

His face softened into a smug smile.

"See?" he whispered, walking over. "You still love me. You're holding onto our past."

He reached for the lantern.

"I knew you were just hurting, Viv. We can light it tonight. Just you and me."

I looked at the lantern.

Then I looked at him.

I dropped the lantern onto the hardwood floor.

The paper crunched.

I lifted my heel, the stiletto poised like a dagger.

"Vivia, don't-"

I brought my heel down.

The bamboo frame snapped with a satisfying crack.

I ground the paper into the floorboards, destroying the word Forever until it was just dust and debris.

"I want nothing from you," I said. "You are dead to me."