Chapter 3

My godfather walks in.

The helmet comes off. Pink-violet hair, short and wild, catches the chandelier light. Black diamonds in both ears. A leather jacket that fits like sin.

The whole church chokes on its own breath.

The livestream chat freezes for a full second. Then it loses its mind.

"holy shit this is the rapist?? sign me up"

"That jawline. That chest. I'd let him."

"Wake up sheeple a hot rapist is still a rapist"

My godfather doesn't look at any of them. Just walks straight to me. Lazy. Easy. Like the room isn't full of people screaming for blood.

"Which one of these dogs," — a slow look across the pews — "wants to take my dick off?"

Chiara's pupils blow wide. The blood drains out of her face like somebody pulled a plug.

Her finger comes up shaking. "Him! *Him!* He's the one, Luca — he tore my clothes off, he held me down, he said a fake Marchetti deserved to get passed around like a party favor — "

The crowd goes nuclear.

"Showing his face after what he did?"

"Animal!"

"Somebody do the world a favor!"

My godfather flicks a glance at Luca. Then looks down at me. The hardness drops out of those eyes for a half-second when they land on my mouth. On the blood there.

"So this is the fiancé." Soft. Almost gentle. "He's even uglier in person."

A thumb skims the corner of my lip. Wipes the blood off. The whole room sees it. The streams see it. I don't move.

Luca *roars.*

"Sokolov, you filth! You wear a man's face but you're not human — Boys! On him! I don't care if he leaves in pieces!"

A dozen of Luca's soldiers move in. Bats. Brass. One pipe.

"Easy." I step in front of my godfather. "Luca. Even a court lets the accused open his mouth."

"You in a hurry to convict? Or are you scared of what'll come out?"

"You — "

Luca doesn't get the rest out. Chiara shoves him off her and *runs.* Straight for the balcony stairs. Heels stabbing the marble.

"Then I'll prove it the only way left!" she screams down at us. "If none of you will believe me, I'll *make* you believe me!"

She vaults the rail.

"CHIARA!"

"NO — !"

She drops.

The sound her body makes when it hits the marble is wet and final. Her left leg bends the wrong way. Blood spreads under her like a halo. The flashbulbs stop for one whole heartbeat.

Then the church *detonates.*

"She killed herself! She killed herself because no one believed her!"

"Sokolov is dead. He's dead tonight."

"Beat him to death, somebody beat him to death!"

Luca crashes down the stairs and scoops her up. She's chalk-white. Her lips are blue. But her eyes — her eyes are still tracking. Still locked on my godfather.

"Now." A whisper that carries somehow. "Do you believe me. Nico Sokolov raped me. He *raped* me."

"I want him bleeding out, Luca. I want him in a fucking *box.*"

Luca is crying. Crying.

My mother is on me. Another slap. My head whips sideways.

"You demon — I gave birth to a *demon* — "

My father aims a boot at my stomach. My godfather hooks an arm around my waist and pulls me back. Light. Easy. My father's foot finds air; he goes down on his ass on the marble.

"This is — this is mutiny," he babbles. "She raised her hand against me. Mutiny — "

The cameras eat it up.

"That's the real daughter? Cold as ice."

"The fake one had to break her own leg to be believed and the real one's still defending the rapist."

And in the middle of it, broken on the floor, bleeding from a leg she just snapped on purpose — Chiara catches my eye.

And smiles.

A small, sharp, very private smile.

That's when I understand.

She just bought herself a victim's badge with one leg.

She is going to die before she lets me take it off her.

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