Chapter 2

Sabrina goes still.

I don't wait.

"Five years, Sabrina. You've made up more rules than I can count."

"Not one of them came from the Family. Every single one is out of your own head. You think I'm stupid?"

She stares at me. Something moves in her eyes. She shuts it down fast.

Then she smiles. Nods.

Pulls her phone out. Taps a few times. Turns it around and shows me the screen.

I freeze.

Then I lunge for it.

She yanks it back. Laughs.

"Your mom's transplant, Aria. She was on the waitlist till next year. Nero made a few calls. Got her bumped up to this month."

I stare at her. "The money went through a week ago."

Nero told me himself. Paid in full. Done.

"Oh, it went through." Sabrina drags out the word. "But Nero said all Family money moves through me. I'm the consigliera, remember?"

She tucks the phone back in her pocket. Slow.

"You want your mom on that table? Then you kneel. Seven hours. Sanctum steps."

"You do it, I release the money. She gets her surgery."

"You don't—" she shrugs. "I send it back. Tell Nero you refused. Tell him you didn't want the help."

My nails cut into my palm.

Nero gives me anything I ask for. Except this.

The Code doesn't bend, cara. That's what he always says.

He's never broken it. Not once. Not for me.

And now Sabrina's got the money.

If I walk away, she wires it back. And getting Nero to move it again? Won't happen.

It's not that he won't help.

It's that the Code won't let him.

My mom has waited years for this heart. The surgeon. The money. Everything lined up at once. If I lose this window, there won't be another one.

Outside, the Sanctum bell starts ringing.

I unclench my fist. I turn around. I walk out.

Last month I flew back to New York to see her.

She'd lost so much weight. But she smiled at me from the bed and squeezed my hand.

"Nero sent flowers again," she said. "He remembered the white roses. That boy."

I smiled. I didn't say anything.

She didn't know.

Every bouquet. Every gift. Every card with his name on it. I paid for all of it. Kneeling. Bleeding. Smiling with cracked ribs.

She didn't know any of it.

She just kept saying, "He's a good man, honey. Mama can go easy now."

She kept saying, "He loves you. Anyone can see it."

She kept saying, "You did good."

Mama.

I didn't do anything good.

Everything he ever gave me, I paid for on my knees.