Shackled Hearts

Chapter Four

Serafina

“You want out?” Amelia leaned against the bedroom door like a guard, her arms crossed, eyes sharp. She had that gleam again—the kind that made Serafina sit up straighter despite herself. “Forget talking to him. We hit him where it hurts.”

Serafina lay sprawled across the bed, one stiletto still dangling from her toes, the other abandoned somewhere in the carpet’s shadows. The dim light of the bedside lamp painted her room in gold and ash. She should have been exhausted, but her body was buzzing, too wired with fury to rest.

“He doesn’t care if I cry,” she said bitterly. “He won’t blink if I threaten to run. We need leverage. Real leverage.”

Amelia moved closer, settling on the edge of the bed with a predator’s smile. “What about her?” Serafina’s gaze snapped up. “That blonde b***h he’s always seen with,” Amelia continued, voice dripping with disdain. “Eva. The one who dresses like a walking red flag. She thinks she’s going to marry him. What if we make sure everyone else thinks that too?”

The name was a thorn straight into Serafina’s chest. Old wounds tore open—the memory of being sixteen, stupidly in love, only to hear another girl bragging in the hallway about being with Dante. She’d walked away that day without giving him a chance to explain, without ever asking if it was true. He’d never forgiven her for it. And she had never forgiven him for not chasing after her. Years later, here they were again. Different game. Same sting.

Her lips curled, but there was no warmth in it. “You’re thinking… photos.”

“I’m thinking scandal.” Amelia’s phone was already in her hand, her thumbs flying over the screen. “She’s always at that club of his—Il Vizio, right? We show up tonight, blend in, catch them in the act—” “—Then make sure Old Romano sees it.” Serafina’s voice dripped venom. “He wouldn’t let his precious heir marry me if he thought Dante had already staked his claim somewhere else.”

Amelia grinned, eyes flashing like she’d just been handed a loaded weapon. “Exactly. And the best part? We won’t even have to fake it. That girl can’t keep her hands to herself.” Serafina sat up fully now, spine stiff with resolve.

“We’ll need a zoom lens. Something discreet. If she kisses him, touches him—anything—we’ll have what we need.”

“I’ve got just the thing.” Amelia’s voice was smug.

I’ve got a case with a tele lens,” she said. “Looks like a normal phone. Shoots from twenty feet away.”

“And if Dante tries to play innocent—”

“We send the footage to Old Romano. Anonymously. Let him choke on his son’s reputation.” “Power over the prince,” Amelia whispered, her grin sharp. “That’s how we win.” The idea sat between them like an open flame, dangerous and irresistible.

Serafina swung her legs over the side of the bed, toes brushing the cool carpet. The anger in her chest shifted, sharpened into something else—purpose. If her father thought she was a pawn, she’d show him she could be a queen.

But still… the risk. Her mind flicked to Dante. To the way his eyes burned when he looked at her, to the weight of the Romano men who shadowed him everywhere. They weren’t idiots. If he caught her scheming, it wouldn’t just be awkward—it could spiral into something brutal. And yet, she felt the thrill of it hum in her veins.

Amelia tapped her glass nails against her phone. “So. Outfits?”

Serafina gave a humorless laugh. “Obviously. Sleek, dark, nothing that screams attention but enough to get past the door. We’ll look like we belong.”

“Entry strategy?”

“Quick. Clean. No stumbling around like tipsy idiots. We stay sharp.”

And if Dante sees you?”

“We walk,” I said. “No flinch, no guilt. If he follows, we melt into the crowd and head for the exit.” Amelia nodded, her grin wicked.

“You handle the timing. I’ll handle the camera. You’ve got the better poker face anyway.”

The cousins spent the next half hour plotting like generals—every angle, every exit. Amelia joked about whether stilettos or boots were better for running. Serafina’s mind flicked to Eva again, to the hollow ache that betrayal had left behind. She told herself this wasn’t about jealousy. It was about survival. About control.

She set everything on the chair and looked at me. “You ready to do this?

“This stops the engagement,” I said.

She studied me a beat. “You know your father will be furious the second he figures out you moved first.”

“He’ll be more furious if I let him move me like furniture,” I said. “This is my life. I choose my path.”

Amelia’s mouth curved. “There she is.”

If Dante thought I was going to sit still and smile while they arranged my life, he’d learn otherwise soon enough.

Tonight, they weren’t prey.

They were the hunters.

And if Dante Romano thought he could cage her, he was about to learn what it felt like to be cornered.