Chapter 2

Dante Carrano strides onto the lawn.

Dark suit. Collar slightly undone. A thin sheen of sweat at his temple.

He must've rushed over.

Donna Isabella blinks. "Dante? Weren't you in a meeting with your father?"

Dante stops in front of his mother.

"Mother, this is about my future wife. I couldn't sit still in that meeting. I was afraid someone might get in the way, so I had to see for myself."

As he speaks, his gaze sweeps over my face.

Donna Isabella smiles. "There was a little incident. We found powder on Zoe Rinaldi's glove, but she noticed it herself and asked us to test it. That says something about her honesty, doesn't it?"

Dante looks me over, his eyes sharp and calculating.

Then he lets out a laugh.

"Mother, don't you think that's a little too convenient?"

"It's like a thief shouting, 'Stop, thief!' She puts on a whole show, points out the powder herself, and walks away looking like the most honest person here. We're looking into this. All the way."

The crowd starts buzzing.

"Dante’s got a point."

"Looks like she’s trying to play the angel, just like her sister."

"Too bad she’s a terrible actress."

I lower my eyes, digging my nails into my palm.

In my last life, Dante was convinced I'd rigged the Choosing to steal Bianca's place as his bride. He hated me for it.

On our wedding night, he had me moved to the guest wing.

The next morning, white dresses appeared in my room. He ordered me to wear them. Then he had Bianca's little red birthmark painted between my brows.

At first, I fought him.

I tore the dresses to shreds. I smashed the makeup against the floor.

He let me rage.

The next morning, more dresses arrived. Right on schedule.

He never had to threaten me. He never had to explain.

I knew I had no choice.

So I gave in.

I wore the dresses. Learned her makeup. Copied her soft voice and the slow, graceful way she walked.

And just like that, Dante started treating me better.

He'd drop by my room now and then. Sit with me. Make small talk. Sometimes he'd even bring me pastries.

I was stupid enough to think things had finally gotten better.

Then came the day I went into labor.

Outside my door, I heard the butler whisper, "Mr. Carrano, all the doctors are gone. What about your wife?"

Dante's voice came through the door, cold and flat.

"A fake is a fake. Put her in Bianca's dresses, paint on her birthmark, and she'll still never be Bianca."

Dante paused.

"Even this baby... I only wanted it because I pictured it as Bianca’s."

"Bianca is out there treating the poor, and she needs every doctor I’ve got. Zoe can wait. Let her deal with it."

I lay there, bleeding, and finally saw how pathetic I'd been.

I'd spent so long trying to become the woman he wanted that I'd forgotten I was a person, too.

I blink, and the memory fades.

Sunlight. The lawn. Dante, standing right in front of me, as cold as he was that night.

This time, I meet his gaze.

"Dante's right. We should investigate."

Dante freezes.

"You... you actually want us to investigate?"

Before I can answer, Bianca steps in with that soft, soothing voice of hers.

"There’s no need to assume the worst. Maybe someone was careless while the gloves were being prepared, and some powder rubbed off on Zoe’s glove."

"If we turn this into a full investigation, we’ll have to question everyone who touched them. Some innocent people could get caught up in it. They don’t deserve that."

Dante turns to her, his expression instantly softening.

"Bianca, you’re too good for this world. She cheated to take your place, and you’re still looking out for her."

I watch the two of them and almost laugh.

Of course. Bianca gets to play the angel, and Dante gets to play her devoted protector.

Meanwhile, I’m supposed to stand here and take the fall.

"I'd still like to know what happened," I say. "If I did it, I'll accept whatever punishment I deserve."

Margherita lunges forward and grabs my arm.

"Have you lost your mind? Your sister is trying to let this go! All you have to do is thank her and move on. Why won't you just shut up and let it end?"

I gently pull my arm free.

"I didn't do it. So why should we just sweep it under the rug?"

Dante sneers. He clearly thinks I'm bluffing.

"You really think I have no proof? That's cute. Bring me Zoe's maid!"

A guard drags Pia onto the lawn.

She stumbles, drops to her knees, and starts shaking.

"It... it was Miss Zoe," she stammers. "She paid me a hundred thousand dollars to do it."

Dante turns to me, one corner of his mouth lifting in a smug little smile.

"Well? Anything to say for yourself?"

"A hundred thousand dollars is a lot of money," I say evenly.

"Every dollar that leaves the Rinaldi household gets logged. Even cash withdrawals leave a trail. Send someone to pull the bank records."

"See if a hundred thousand went missing recently, and where it went. Then we’ll know who’s telling the truth."

Dante's smile disappears.

His eyes harden.

"You just don’t know when to quit, do you? Fine! Someone go to the bank and pull the records!"

"No!" Margherita's voice cracks across the lawn.

Everyone falls silent.

Pia starts shaking even harder. Her eyes dart toward Bianca again and again, like she's begging her to do something.

I stand perfectly still.

I'm not pretending to be calm. I am calm.

And Donna Isabella can see it. So can everyone else.

Then Bianca finally speaks.

"There’s no need to check the records," she says quietly. "I’m the one who told Pia to do it."