"Adriana," he said, his voice sharp and cold, "I didn't know you were capable of something this cruel."
The accusation came without hesitation. Without doubt.
"Apologize to Lily. Now."
Around us, the atmosphere shifted instantly.
Don Vittorio's face darkened, his earlier joy completely gone. The torn painting clearly struck a nerve. He tapped one knuckle against the arm of his chair, once, and the sound carried in the silence like a sentence passed. His lips tightened, his expression turning rigid with anger.
"This is outrageous," he muttered under his breath.
Carmela didn't hold back.
She stepped forward, lifting the lace handkerchief to the corner of her mouth before speaking, her gaze filled with open disdain as she looked at me.
"Adriana, what is wrong with you?" she snapped. "Do you hate this Family so much that you'd come here, on the Don's feast day, and make a scene like this?"
Her words were loud enough for every guest and soldier in the courtyard to hear.
Every eye turned to me.
Judging. Condemning. Certain.
Dante had already helped Liliana back up the steps, supporting her carefully as if she were something fragile.
Then he walked toward me.
I barely had time to register what was happening before his hand came down across my face.
The sound echoed off the stone walls of the compound.
Sharp. Sudden.
My head snapped to the side from the force of it.
For a moment, everything went still. The courtyard, the murmuring guests, the soldiers at the gate. All of it stopped, as though the entire estate had drawn a single breath and held it.
The sting spread quickly across my cheek, hot and burning.
His voice followed, colder than the slap itself.
"I should never have spoiled you the way I did," he said. "It's made you completely out of control."
His eyes were filled with nothing but disappointment and anger.
"Apologize."
I raised my hand slowly, pressing it against my cheek as the pain throbbed beneath my skin.
Then I lifted my head.
And that was when I saw it.
The faint curve at the corner of Liliana's lips. Her thumbnail grazed the edge of her lower lip, barely perceptible.
Subtle.
But unmistakable.
A small, fleeting smile.
Triumphant.
Something inside me went quiet.
Completely quiet.
My thumb found the silver rosary bracelet at my wrist, turned the smallest bead once, then let it fall.
I didn't feel the urge to explain. I didn't feel the need to defend myself anymore. What was the point?