I rose from the settee, my movements unhurried, and walked toward the inner chamber. The door closed behind me with a soft, final click.
Not because my heart was broken.
Because I was certain.
As long as I remained bound to this Family—this arrangement, this gilded cage disguised as an alliance—I would forever stand in Silvia's shadow. A placeholder. A name on a contract that meant nothing to the man who had signed it.
And this time, I had already decided to step out of that shadow entirely.
The rain began only after I left the Corleone estate.
I did not look back.
The stone steps leading down from the villa were slick with water, treacherous beneath my heels. Wind poured through the iron gates at the courtyard's far end, carrying the briny scent of the harbor—that particular smell of salt and diesel and freedom that belonged to the docks where men like Fletcher 'The Ferryman' Mancini plied their trade.
I walked fast, my coat pulled tight against the downpour, as if slowing even a fraction would let the golden lights behind me reach out and swallow me whole once more.
Only then did I allow myself to think of the morning.
Dawn had barely broken, the sky beyond my window still holding that gray-blue chill that preceded winter storms. I sat at the small table in my quarters, pressing a short blade against a whetstone, adjusting the angle with each stroke. The metal sang against stone—a dull, grating sound that filled the silence like a heartbeat.
When the door opened without so much as a knock, I did not lift my head.
Giorgio stood in the doorway, impeccably dressed in a charcoal suit cut to emphasize the breadth of his shoulders. The signet ring of the Corleone heir gleamed on his right hand. He looked every inch the future Don—prepared for a full day of ceremonies, sit-downs, and the formal presentation of his bride to the Family.
The presence he carried was still forceful. The kind of presence that made lesser men step aside, that silenced rooms and commanded attention.
It no longer stirred anything in me.
"It's time," he said. "We meet with the Family representatives first, then proceed directly to my parents for the formal blessing."
As if reading from a schedule carved in stone long before I had any say in the matter.
I continued sharpening the blade. The rhythmic scrape of metal on stone was my only response.
"Elena." His tone sharpened with impatience.