Chapter 4 The blood feud history is revealed

Sienna's POV

The first thing I noticed about the D'Amore estate was the silence. Not the peaceful kind. The loaded, watching kind. The kind that made the hairs on the back of your neck rise.

Nico's car pulled through wrought-iron gates that looked more like prison bars than the entrance to a home. The estate itself was perched on a hill, a massive villa built from dark limestone with sweeping balconies, arched windows, and ivy growing like veins over the stone. It looked ancient. Angry. Like it had swallowed brides before me.

I sat rigid in the passenger seat, my eyes fixed forward. Nico hadn't said a word since we left the woods. He didn't apologize. Didn't gloat. He just drove like a man who owned everything including the silence between us.

The engine died, and still he didn't move.

I turned to him. "Well?" He met my gaze. "You'll sleep in the East Wing."

"Am I allowed to leave my room? Or do I get shackles, too?" His mouth twitched. "Only if you ask nicely." I rolled my eyes and stepped out. Two men stood by the front doors. One opened it without a word. The other nodded once low, like I was royalty, or something worse.

The entrance hall was dim and cold, its high ceiling supported by pillars carved with Latin prayers. A chandelier hung from above, unlit. The floor was black marble and silent beneath my boots. I felt like I was stepping into a crypt, not a home.

A woman appeared at the top of the grand staircase. Tall. Elegant. Late fifties, in a navy suit with pearls that looked older than the building itself. Her hair was pulled tight in a chignon, and her eyes were the sharp kind that never missed anything.

She descended with slow, calculated grace. "This is Sofia," Nico said beside me. "She runs the house. Everyone answers to her."

Everyone.

Noted.

Sofia looked me up and down like I was dirt on her floor. "You're early."

"She tried to run," Nico said simply. Sofia's lip curled barely. "Of course she did."

"I'm not deaf," I snapped.

Her eyes flicked to me. "No. Just untrained." I raised an eyebrow. "Like a dog?"

"No," she said coolly. "Dogs are loyal." Nico laughed once and walked away, just like that. No goodbye, no warning.

The doors closed behind him. I was alone, well alone with Sofia and the rest of her icy little army.

"Follow me," she said. I did. Mostly because I wanted to know where the knives were kept in this place.

The East Wing wasn't as grand as the rest of the estate, but it was still the size of a small cathedral. The bedroom I was led to had floor-length windows, dark wood floors, and a canopy bed draped in crimson velvet. A dressing table sat against the far wall, with an armoire big enough to hide a body in.

"This will be your room," Sofia said. "You're not to wander after dark. Meals are taken in the formal dining hall unless otherwise instructed. You will not speak to the staff unless spoken to. And under no circumstances will you enter Nico's study."

I blinked. "Anything I am allowed to do?"

"You may breathe. Quietly." I smiled sweetly. "And if I don't follow your rules?" She stepped closer. "Then I'll remind you of them. Personally."

"I've been threatened by scarier women than you," I whispered. "You've never met one like me." She left, heels clicking like gunfire. I stood alone in the middle of the room, taking it all in. So this was it. My new kingdom.

A gilded cage filled with ghosts, silence, and rules.

Perfect. I spent the rest of the morning exploring discreetly. The house was a labyrinth of corridors, most of them lined with art that could've belonged to a museum or a mafia crypt. Paintings of old D'Amore ancestors stared down from every wall. Some held swords. Others had rings on every finger. All looked like they'd never heard the word no in their lives.

Everywhere I went, eyes followed me. Staff members whispered behind my back. Some bowed. Some sneered. A maid dropped a tray when she saw me. A cook refused to speak. I got the message loud and clear:

I didn't belong.

But I'd learned something in the convent how to study people who underestimated you and how to wait.

At lunch, I found the dining hall. It was a cathedral-sized room with a table long enough to seat twenty. A single place setting waited at one end. I sat. A servant placed a plate of risotto in front of me, so perfectly presented it looked like it had been painted. Then he turned to leave. "That's it?" I asked. "No one's joining me?"

"Don Nico eats separately," the man said without looking at me. Of course he does. I ate in silence, the fork heavy in my hand, the chandelier above me rattling slightly in the wind. Every bite tasted like rebellion. I wasn't supposed to enjoy this. But I did. I ate the entire plate, then stood and left without a word.

By evening, I'd had enough of being watched. I found a door that opened to the courtyard a private garden filled with thornbushes and statues of wolves. I paced the gravel path barefoot, letting the cold bite at my skin. I needed the sting. It grounded me.

That's when I heard the footsteps.

Nico.

Of course.

He leaned against a pillar, dressed in a black shirt and slacks, sleeves rolled up, tattoos peeking out from under his forearms. "You like to test limits," he said. "Is that a threat?" He shook his head. "An observation."

"Your staff hates me."

"They hate change. You're a hurricane in their temple."

"I won't bow to them."

"I don't expect you to."

That surprised me.

I crossed my arms. "Why did you bring me here so early?"

He shrugged. "I wanted to see how fast you'd drown."

"I'm not drowning."

"Yet."

He stepped closer. His eyes searched mine. "Do you know why our families made this arrangement?"

"To stop the bloodshed."

"No," he said. "To weaponize it. They think if we marry, we'll cancel each other out. Balance the scale."

"And what do you think?" He smirked. "I think if you were born anyone else, I'd already be in your bed."

My face flushed, but I didn't look away. "And since I'm a Rosetti?"

"I'm going to have to earn it." I blinked. "Earn it?" He moved closer, his voice dropping. "If I take you now, you'll burn. And not in the way you want. But if I wait-if I make you want me first I'll hurt more when I break you." I didn't step back. I leaned in.

"You won't break me." He smiled. "That's what I'm counting on." That night, I locked my bedroom door and slept with the switchblade under my pillow.

The rules of this house were clear but I had my own.

Rule one: Never let them see fear.

Rule two: Never stop watching.

Rule three: Survive long enough to turn the cage into a throne.