The Rossi villa glittered with candlelight that evening, guests moving through the hall with the slow, deliberate grace of predators. The engagement dinner was meant to be a display of unity—Rossi and Bianchi, two dynasties entwining.
To Adriana, it felt like a funeral.
She wore her mother’s pearls, the dress her father had chosen, her smile a mask carved from porcelain. Luca’s hand rested on the small of her back, a constant reminder of the cage tightening around her.
“Smile wider,” he whispered against her ear, his tone smooth but edged with command. “They need to see how happy you are.”
Her jaw ached as she obeyed, lips curving while her stomach knotted.
Isabella drifted nearby, her laughter like poisoned honey, her gaze never leaving Adriana. Each stolen glance carried a silent me
