The celebration raged long into the night, the Moretti halls brimming with wine, music, and the scent of victory. To everyone else, Damian’s return was a triumph. To Adriana, it was a cage snapping shut.
She stood at the edge of the ballroom, half-hidden by the velvet drapes, her gown still scorched at the hem from the fire. The chandelier glittered overhead, casting light across marble floors and golden laughter. Yet she felt invisible. No one dared approach her — not when Isabella was attached to Damian’s arm like an ornament of power.
Every glance Adriana caught whispered the same story: Rossi daughter, too close to the heir. Dangerous. Out of place.
She gripped her hands so tightly her nails dug crescents into her skin.
On the far side of the room, Damian leaned into a circle of me
