The palazzo glittered that night as though the blood spilled days earlier had been nothing but a bad dream. Crystal chandeliers spilled golden light across polished marble; the scent of roses and expensive cigars mingled in the air. The Rossi family had opened their doors to Naples’ elite to prove a point: they were unbroken, untouchable, still the heart of the city’s power.
Adriana wore silk the color of midnight, her throat heavy with diamonds that felt more like chains. Every step she took into the grand ballroom echoed with the weight of her father’s command: You will marry Luca Bianchi.
Her stomach twisted as Luca’s hand found her waist. He was handsome in a way that soured with every word from his mouth, his grin wide, his laugh too loud. His palm pressed against her lower back wit
