Chapter 5

Elara POV:

My eyes weren't on the dead puppy. They were fixed on the object glinting around its neck. A silver medallion, tarnished with age, stamped with the Moretti crest. It was my father's medallion-the one given to him for twenty years of loyal service to Dante's father, the one I'd entrusted to Dante for safekeeping after the funeral.

I reached for it, a strangled cry catching in my throat.

Isabella clutched the puppy's body to her chest and sank into Dante's waiting arms, her sobs great, theatrical wails.

"Elara, explain this," Dante said, his voice dangerously low. His arms were wrapped around Isabella, but his eyes, cold and hard as river stones, were locked on me.

"I didn't do it," I said, my voice shaking.

Isabella produced a small, orange pill bottle from her pocket. "I found this near his water bowl. It's hers."

I recognized the bottle instantly. My anti-anxiety pills. From the clinic. "The pills are mine, but I didn't do it," I insisted, my gaze snapping back to the medallion. "Give that back to me. That's my father's."

"Apologize to her," Dante ordered, stepping in front of me, blocking my path.

The whispers of the other diners rose around me, a venomous buzz. "Vicious." "Cares more about a trinket than a dead animal."

I looked past him, my eyes finding Dante's. "Did you let her use my father's medallion as a dog toy?" My voice was a blade of contempt I didn't know I possessed. "You have no heart."

For the first time, Dante's gaze truly registered the medallion. A flicker of something-recognition, maybe shame-crossed his face. He turned to Isabella. "What did you do?" he demanded.

Terrified, Isabella fumbled with the clasp. She held the medallion out, her hand trembling. Then, just as I reached for it, her fingers feigned a slip.

The silver disc flew through the air in a slow, perfect arc and disappeared into the dark, churning water of the river below.

My world stopped.

Pure, blind instinct took over. I scrambled over the railing of the restaurant's terrace and plunged into the freezing, black water. The shock of the cold was a physical blow, but I barely felt it. I just needed to find it. My hands scrabbled blindly in the mud and silt at the river bottom until my fingers closed around the cool, familiar metal.

I surfaced, gasping, clutching the medallion in my numb hand.

My eyes found the terrace. Dante was no longer looking for me. He was standing with his arm around Isabella, pointing up at the sky. He was showing her the meteor shower.

Not even the stars were for me.

A bitter, hollow laugh escaped my lips. The cold wasn't just in the water; it was in my soul. I regretted every second I had ever spent loving him.

His head finally whipped back toward the river, his eyes widening as he saw me. He rushed to the railing. "Are you hurt?" he called down, his voice laced with a panicky concern that was three years too late.

I held up the medallion, river water dripping from my clenched fist. "Do you think my father's honor"-I shouted, my voice cracking-"that I-am worth less than a dog?"