Chapter 2
There's a soft laugh on the other end. Dry. Amused. Almost bored.
"Yeah? Tell him to sharpen the knife first."
*Click.*
The dial tone is louder than it has any right to be. Five hundred people listen to it together.
Luca freezes. Then he picks up a champagne flute and smashes it against the altar.
"You put it on speaker on *purpose,*" he says. "You tipped him off."
"Luca — " Chiara curls smaller against him, shaking. "He took pictures. Of me. With his phone. If those get out — "
"Hey. Hey." Luca cups her face like she's about to break. He turns to his crew, eyes black.
"Lock down every exit in this city. I want Sokolov dragged in here by his hair. I'm doing the cutting personally."
I watch the man I was supposed to spend my life with rock his dead brother's wife in his arms, and something inside me freezes solid.
Three months ago, Luca's brother Marco died on the Long Island Expressway. Brake failure, they said. Three months ago, Luca was the boy who sat by my hospital bed the night I got food poisoning and held my hand and swore on his mother's grave he'd never let anyone hurt me.
Now he's *Chiara's* good little brother-in-law. Available twenty-four hours a day.
"Get over here." My father grabs me by the hair and forces me down. "You apologize to your sister. On your knees. *Now.*"
My knees crack against the marble. I feel skin split.
"If Chiara forgives you, I'll only send Sokolov to the joint. I won't disown you."
"I didn't do anything wrong." I lift my head. Look him in the eye. "I'm not kneeling."
Six months ago they drove four hours upstate to bring me home. Their *real* daughter. Their heart. Six months later, one tear from Chiara and I'm a stray dog they regret feeding.
"Still talking back?" My father raises his hand again. "Fine. The Romanos can kill you tonight for all I care. The Marchettis won't lift a finger."
"Daddy, please don't — " Chiara is sobbing. Her eyes glitter. "It's my fault. I have the wrong face. My sister grew up rough, she can't help the people she ran with — "
"Chiara. You're a saint." Luca raises his head. Every livestream phone in the front row points at him. "But animals get put down."
He turns to the cameras. There must be twenty of them. Society pages. Mob gossip blogs. Some asshole's TikTok.
"Romano family. One million for Sokolov's right hand."
"The Marchettis match it!" my father shouts. "Two million!"
The whole church explodes. Flashbulbs everywhere. They're going to chase him down like a deer.
I push myself off the floor. My knee screams. I grab the mic out of the priest's hand.
"You're so sure my godfather did this." My voice goes everywhere — the speakers, the streams, every screen in the city. "Want to put your money where your mouth is?"
"A sit-down. Right here. Right now."
My voice cracks but I don't slow down. "If my godfather raped Chiara — I drag him in myself. I sign over my inheritance. I walk into the precinct tonight and take the charge. I do the time."
My parents go still.
"But if he's clean — "
"Every Romano share. Every Marchetti asset. Mine."
"You — apologize. On a livestream. To him."
"And Luca." I turn. He's gone white. "You wanted his three legs. If you lose? You give up yours."
"Are you out of your fucking mind?!" my father howls. "You'd bet the *family* on a rapist?"
"Why are you scared?" I push the mic into the closest camera. "You said the evidence is rock solid. Unless this whole thing is a setup my sister cooked up?"
Chiara rips her dress further down her shoulder. Bruises. Bite marks. She's screaming.
"Take the bet! *Take it!* He raped me, it's true, I'm not letting that go! I want her to lose everything! I want him in the ground!"
"Done." Luca slams his fist on the altar. "Get paper. Get a notary. Marchetti, when he gets here, I cut him myself, and then you crawl to Chiara on your hands and knees the rest of your life."
Four minutes later there's a contract on the red carpet. Cameras everywhere. Bloody thumbprints, both sides, because in our world ink isn't enough.
The doors of the church kick open with a sound like a gunshot.
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