The Rossi estate was a palace built on shadows. Gilded halls, velvet curtains, chandeliers dripping with crystal — all glitter hiding the stench of blood that clung to its foundations.
Adriana sat in her locked chamber, the heavy oak door looming like a prison wall. She pressed her palms to the cold windowpane, staring out into the dark gardens below, where shadows moved like hunters. Freedom had never felt so far.
She tugged at the chain around her wrist — delicate-looking, but strong, its silver links biting her skin. A mockery of jewelry. Shackles dressed as finery.
Her father’s voice echoed in her head, that venom-laced growl: “You are my daughter. Your loyalty is not yours to give away — it is mine to command.”
Adriana closed her eyes, fighting the burn of tears. Damian’s face ros
