He was clearly pleased—the compliment landing exactly where I had aimed it.
"Very soon," he said, reaching out to trace his thumb along my jaw, "you'll officially be by my side. The alliance will be sealed, and our families will be bound by blood and honor."
I nodded, my smile perfectly measured—neither too eager nor too reserved.
"That night," I added, holding his gaze, "I'll give you a surprise."
His interest was instantly piqued, his eyes sharpening with curiosity. "What kind of surprise?"
"Be patient," I murmured. "You'll like it."
I turned away before he could see the calm that had settled behind my eyes—that absolute, crystalline stillness that came from knowing exactly what would happen next.
That engagement ceremony would not be just a celebration.
It would be a dividing line.
A severance.
From that night forward, everything would be rewritten completely—and the woman they thought they knew would cease to exist, replaced by someone they had never bothered to see.
Before we even reached the tailor's establishment on Via Montenapoleone, Giorgio's hand was already locked firmly at my waist—a gesture of possession, not affection. He leaned in too close, his breath carrying that self-assured confidence he believed to be charming, the cologne of a man who had never been denied anything in his life. I was almost ready to frown, to pull away, but the moment he lowered his head toward my ear, I suddenly smiled.
"You can't catch me."
As the words left my mouth, I slipped free and ran forward into the night. The cobblestone street was empty, gaslight scattering into broken reflections across the rain-soaked pavement. He chased after me, laughter easy and unrestrained, treating it like a harmless game between a man and his promised bride.
Only I knew it was not.
When he finally closed the distance, I suddenly slowed and turned back toward him. He froze for a split second, something flickering behind his eyes—surprise, perhaps, or the faint irritation of a hunter whose prey had stopped fleeing. I reached out, as if absentmindedly straightening his cuff, my fingertips brushing lightly over the hand that Silvia had just held in the motorcar, leaving behind a faint trace of moisture from the evening mist.
"We're here," I said quietly.
The door of the tailor's shop was pushed open, warm light spilling out like honey across the threshold.
Then everything stopped.