Chapter 5

Tessa Rossi POV

Cassio must have received that frantic call and torn the city apart to move me. I woke to the scent of starched linen mingled with the faint tobacco from Cassio's coat.

Blinking against the low, indirect lighting, I opened my eyes.

I was in a private hospital VIP suite.

Cassio was slumped in a chair pulled flush against the mattress.

His large hand was gripping mine with a desperate pressure.

I looked at his sleeping face-the sharp, aristocratic jawline, the dark shadow of exhaustion under his eyes.

A vast emptiness opened in my chest. I felt nothing.

Slowly, I pulled my hand away from his grip.

The slightest movement woke him.

He sat up instantly, his dark eyes filled with a frantic, raw concern.

He reached out to place a palm over my forehead to check for a fever.

I flinched from his touch.

I pressed my spine hard against the pillows.

His hand hovered in midair before falling slowly to his side.

The apologies came from him in a desperate rush as he attempted to justify abandoning me on that mountain.

He cited Siena's critical condition as if it excused leaving his wife to die.

He swore he had sent his best men back up the ridge for me, only to find I was already gone.

He claimed he had been out of his mind with worry.

I merely nodded, my face a blank mask, devoid of any emotion.

"I understand," I murmured softly.

My deadened, listless reaction struck him harder than a physical blow.

Overcome by a visible, suffocating guilt, the ruthless Don pulled out his phone.

He delegated all syndicate operations to his Underboss for the week.

He personally tended to my bandages with an uncharacteristic gentleness.

When I was discharged, he carried me to the waiting armored car and escorted me back to the penthouse.

For three days, he played the part of the perfect, devoted husband.

He brought me meals in bed and sat in the living room, patiently reading to Leo.

But on the fourth day, Cassio sat on the edge of my bed, a hesitant look in his eyes.

He proposed hosting a lavish birthday gala for Siena at the ancestral estate.

It would lift her fractured spirits, he reasoned, and show the restless syndicate that the Falcone family remained united.

"Of course," I agreed, without a second of hesitation.

The gala was held in the grand ballroom of the Falcone ancestral estate.

The cavernous room was packed shoulder-to-shoulder with Made Men, Capos, and their jewel-draped wives.

They drank our vintage champagne and whispered behind manicured hands.

They traded gossip about the Don's highly suspicious devotion to his sister-in-law.

Halfway through the evening, I stood on the grand staircase, the weight of a small velvet box in my palm.

I tapped a crystal flute, the ringing sound calling for the room's undivided attention.

In front of the entire criminal underworld, I presented Siena with a breathtaking sapphire brooch.

I stepped down and pinned the heavy jewel to the bodice of her dress myself.

I forced a radiant smile and publicly wished her a long, healthy life.

Cassio stood a few feet away, his dark eyes locking instantly onto the glittering blue stone.

He recognized it immediately.

It was his very first gift to me-the ultimate symbol of his possessive claim over my life.

He froze in utter shock, his jaw clenching so tight a muscle ticked in his cheek.

But before he could utter a single word, a harsh screech of static echoed through the hall.

The ballroom's massive security screens flickered as the feed was hijacked.

The elegant string quartet cut out abruptly.

Shaky, grainy video footage began to loop on the massive displays.

It showed Siena in a highly disheveled state, being aggressively groped and kissed by an older, notorious rival mobster in the shadows of a dark alley.

The room erupted into chaos.

Capos instinctively drew their concealed weapons, while wives shrieked and scrambled away from the center of the floor.

Siena stared up at the screens in pure horror before dropping to her knees.

She sobbed hysterically, her chest heaving as she pointed a shaking finger directly at me.

Over the din of the crowd, she screamed that I had orchestrated this vicious hit on her reputation.

She accused me of hiring the rival boss just to ruin her.

Gathering her ruined skirts, she scrambled to her feet and fled out of the ballroom in a flood of humiliated tears.

Cassio turned his gaze to me, his pupils reflecting the static of the poor-quality video on the screen, the rigid line of his spine seeming to collapse by half an inch.

Without a word, he turned his back on his wife.

He and Leo immediately sprinted toward the doors, chasing after the fleeing Siena.

The heavy oak doors slammed shut behind them.

They left me standing entirely alone on the grand staircase to face the predatory judgment of the entire syndicate.