Chapter 5

Seraphina POV:

As I walked back up the stairs, my feet heavy as lead, I heard Isabella's voice drift up from the foyer. It was a soft, cloying purr.

"You were so harsh with her, Dante. Was it because of what happened last night...?"

Dante's reply was sharp enough to cut glass. "She's an adult. It's time she learned her place."

My place. Below them. An inconvenience. A piece of property to be managed. The last flickering ember of hope inside me finally died, leaving nothing but cold, hard ash.

The next week was a blur of calculated cruelty. The family held a formal gathering to welcome their alliance with the Vescovis. I was forced to attend. One of Dante's old capos, a man who had known me since I was a child, cornered me by the bar. He gestured towards me with his glass.

"Your little canary is all grown up, Don," he said to Dante, who was standing nearby.

Dante didn't even look at me. He took a slow sip of his whiskey, his eyes scanning the room. "She's an adult now," he said, his voice carrying in the sudden lull of conversation. "Not my concern anymore."

The words were a public declaration. A withdrawal of protection. In our world, that was a death sentence. I felt the shift in the room immediately. The gazes that fell on me were no longer respectful or cautious. They were hungry. Predatory. I was no longer Dante Moretti's untouchable ward. I was open season.

Later, Isabella staged a clumsy stumble, collapsing dramatically towards Dante. He caught her with practiced ease, scooping her up into his arms in a classic bridal carry. He didn't look angry or annoyed. He looked like a king claiming his prize, a possessive, protective fire in his eyes that I hadn't seen in years. A fire that was no longer for me. He carried her out of the room amidst a chorus of appreciative murmurs.

An old family friend, Francesca, watched them go, her expression sad. She turned to me. "He once had three men executed just for whistling at you on the street," she murmured. "We all thought you would be his weakness forever."

Weaknesses get cut away, I thought, my heart a cold, tight knot in my chest.

The party ended, and as if on cue, the sky opened up. A torrential downpour lashed against the windows. I watched as Dante escorted Isabella to their car, holding a large black umbrella over her, shielding her completely while his own shoulder got soaked.

My mind flashed back to another rainy night, when I was twelve and terrified of the thunder. He had found me huddled in the hallway and walked me back to my room, holding this very umbrella over my head even though we were indoors.

"My umbrella will always be for you, Fina," he had promised.

Now, that promise was a lie. I stood alone on the porch, with no umbrella and no one waiting for me. I looked at the sheets of rain, a solid wall of gray between me and the world.

Then, I took a deep breath and walked straight into it.

The rain was icy cold, shocking my system. It plastered my short, ragged hair to my skull and soaked through my dress in seconds. I didn't run. I walked, letting the storm wash over me, hoping it could cleanse the filth and the pain from my soul.

Back in my room, shivering and dripping on the expensive rug, my phone buzzed with a notification from an encrypted app. It was a new message.

*Flight is arranged. Seven days from now. On Dante Moretti's birthday. We will meet you in Toronto. Welcome home, my daughter. - M.R.*

Marco Rossi. My father.

A shaky breath escaped my lips. It was real. A lifeline.

Dante's birthday. The day he entered the world would be the day I finally escaped it. My rebirth would be his celebration. The irony was so bitter, so perfect, it was almost sweet.