The Rossi estate was alive with whispers. Guards lined the halls, their boots clicking like metronomes of oppression. The windows had been barred, the gates reinforced, and every corner seemed to watch her. Adriana felt it in her bones — she was no longer a daughter. She was a prisoner.
But she had learned something from Damian: cages were only temporary.
Adriana sat by the mirror, staring at her reflection in the gilded glass. Dark circles framed her eyes, but beneath the exhaustion, something new glimmered — steel. Her father wanted obedience. Isabella wanted her broken. But she would give them neither.
She rose, tugging the chain on her wrist until it rattled, a harsh defiance in the silent chamber. If they think I am weak, they will underestimate me. And if they underestimate me, I
