Giada POV

Kelsey’s panic morphed into a frantic, desperate denial. She couldn't accept that her knowledge of the past was failing her. Feigning a clumsy slip, she lunged forward, her manicured fingers hooking into the delicate silk shawl draped over my shoulders. With a vicious yank, she tore it away.

She expected to expose a canvas of bloody, ruined flesh to the room, turning me into the ultimate joke of the estate. Instead, thanks to Dr. Weaver’s miraculous black-market ointment and the calculated angle of my posture, my exposed shoulder and upper back were as flawless and pale as fresh snow.

"Impossible!" Kelsey shrieked, her voice cracking with hysteria as she stared at my unblemished skin. "The Don didn't even touch you last night, did he?!"

Mia and Chloe exchanged amused, mocking glances, assuming Kelsey was merely laughing at my lack of claiming marks—bruises or bite marks from a passionate night. I slowly retrieved my shawl, my gaze chillingly calm as I watched my half-sister unravel.

Before Kelsey could embarrass herself further, the heavy double doors of the lounge were shoved open. The oppressive aura of the mafia hierarchy flooded the room as Capo Enzo strode in, flanked by heavily armed Soldiers. The petty chatter died instantly.

Enzo ignored the other Collaterals, walking straight to me. He bowed his head slightly, a gesture of profound respect, and presented a black velvet box stamped with the Blackwell crest. He snapped it open. Inside rested a breathtaking pink diamond collar—a Claiming Gift worth millions.

"Signorina Ortiz," Enzo announced, his voice carrying the absolute weight of a Don's Command. "The Don has ordered your immediate relocation to the Sapphire Suite."

A collective gasp echoed in the room. Kelsey looked as if she had been struck by lightning, her eyes locked on the diamonds she had died for in another life. Sasha, the Bratva Collateral, narrowed her eyes, masking her shock with cold, dangerous calculation. I accepted the box with a serene nod, while my Associates, Rosa and Siena, trembled with excitement behind me.

The Sapphire Suite was a sun-drenched sanctuary of absolute power. As lower-level Associates bustled around, filling the massive walk-in closets with haute couture and jewels, the heavy door clicked shut. But the peace was short-lived.

Kelsey had followed me. She stood in the center of the lavish living room, her face twisted in ugly, raw envy.

"You're faking it," she spat, stepping closer, her eyes darting around the opulent room. "You don't have a single mark on you. This is all a show. You haven't won his heart, you're just putting on a brave face."

I set my porcelain teacup down on the glass table. The fragile, terrified mask I wore for Dante vanished, replaced by the lethal coldness of a true Mafia Queen. I closed the distance between us, my voice dropping to a deadly whisper.

"Let me educate you on survival, sister," I murmured, my eyes locking onto hers. "Attempting to pry into the Dark Don's habits, or questioning the validity of his decisions, is a direct violation of *Omertà*. It is treason. Keep digging, and you won't just lose your imaginary crown—you'll lose your tongue."

Greta, Kelsey’s older, seasoned Associate, paled drastically. Understanding the brutal reality of mafia law, she clamped a hand over Kelsey’s arm and practically dragged her toward the door.

"Let go of me!" Kelsey hissed in the corridor, ripping herself from Greta's grip. "Just wait until the morning assembly. Let's see if she survives Sasha and the others in the Solarium tomorrow."

Greta didn't reply, her eyes darting nervously, silently terrified of the black-market fertility drug secret binding them to this sinking ship.

Inside the suite, I turned my attention away from the closed door. My eyes slowly scanned the new faces of the security guards and maids the estate's internal affairs had just assigned to me, searching for the hidden venom in the room.

Giada POV

The line of new servants stood before me in obedient stillness, but the Rat hiding among them had already been marked. I turned away, my attention shifting to the next phase of the operation.

To survive this estate, I had to expose the snake before it could bite.

I retreated to the plush velvet sofas in the center of the room, pulling my most trusted Associates, Rosa and Siena, close. "We feed them ambition," I murmured, outlining a psychological trap.

Within the hour, the seeds were planted. Out on the secluded, sun-drenched balcony, Siena cornered Leo, a lowly Soldier assigned to the outer perimeter. "Matteo is too rigid as head of security," she purred, tracing the rim of a crystal glass. "The Don rewards men who know how to adapt. Protect the Signorina well, and you could easily take Matteo's place."

Inside the walk-in closet, Rosa worked a similar poison on Lucia, one of the new maids. "Carmela is too slow," Rosa whispered, handing Lucia a stack of silk chemises. "Be sharp, and you'll be the one catching the Don's eye for a reward."

By nightfall, the Sapphire Suite had transformed into a ruthless battleground of overachievers. Leo paced the corridors like a starved hound, aggressively turning away two maids sent by other Collaterals with bribes for information. Inside, Lucia polished the silver tea sets until her knuckles turned white, desperate to prove her worth.

Standing in the shadows of the hallway, I watched the frantic display with cold satisfaction.

"They are working hard, Signorina," Rosa whispered beside me. "Are they the spies?"

"No," I replied softly, my eyes drifting to the corner where Carmela stood perfectly still, quietly folding towels with chilling indifference. "In our world, a true Rat is already well-fed with blood money. They don't scramble for crumbs, and they don't risk drawing attention by overperforming. Watch the one who isn't trying."

The trap was set. Now, I just had to wait for Carmela to make a fatal mistake.

The next morning, the estate buzzed with the suffocating tension of the Matriarch's morning assembly. Every female resident was required to attend the gathering in the Solarium, hosted by Geraldine Blackwell, the former Mafia Queen. Rumor had it that Dante would pass by the glass corridors after his meeting with the Consigliere.

Sitting at my vanity, I dismissed the makeup artist. I left the faint, purplish shadows under my eyes untouched and kept my skin bare. I cultivated the fragile, hollowed-out exhaustion of a woman who had been ruthlessly consumed by the Dark Don all night. In a house full of predators, flaunting strength was foolish; weaponizing vulnerability was an art.

The moment I stepped outside the heavy glass doors of the Solarium, Kelsey blocked my path.

She wore a scandalous, crimson slip dress that clung to her curves—a desperate, pathetic attempt to catch Dante's eye. Her face twisted into an ugly sneer as she took in my bare face.

"Look at you," Kelsey mocked, her manicured fingers suddenly darting out to roughly pinch my chin. "You look like a washed-out corpse. Do you honestly think a diamond collar makes up for that pathetic face? You'll never be Ellen."

I didn't flinch. I didn't even blink. I simply stared at her with the dead, chilling calm of a true Queen watching a jester dig her own grave.

Before I could speak, the sharp, authoritative thud of a silver-tipped cane struck the marble floor.

The temperature in the corridor plummeted. Geraldine Blackwell emerged from the shadows, flanked by four heavily armed Soldati. She wore a deep burgundy velvet gown draped in snow fox fur, her sharp eyes radiating the absolute, crushing weight of the Blackwell hierarchy.

"Take your hands off her," Geraldine commanded, her voice a lethal whip crack.

Kelsey gasped, snatching her hand back as if she had been burned.

Geraldine stepped closer, her cold gaze raking over Kelsey’s inappropriate dress with profound disgust. "A woman graced with my son's Claiming Gift is not subject to the petty judgments of a lowly Collateral," the Matriarch hissed, enforcing the Don's absolute authority. "Know your place, girl, before I have you reminded of it."

Trembling violently, Kelsey dropped to her knees, her face draining of all color. The surrounding women immediately followed suit, bowing their heads in terrified submission.

I offered Geraldine a slow, perfectly measured bow of respect. She gave me a curt nod of approval before sweeping into the room.

Stepping into the lush, humid air of the Solarium, I kept my gaze lowered, playing the part of the exhausted favorite. But as I moved toward my seat, the hairs on the back of my neck prickled.

I looked up. Sasha, the Bratva Collateral, was marching directly toward me. A vicious, triumphant smirk played on her lips, her eyes gleaming with the anticipation of tearing me down, completely unaware that the ugly security photo she had bribed to see was nothing but a lie.

Giada POV

Sasha’s shadow fell over me before she even spoke. The humid air of the Solarium seemed to thicken as she stopped by my chair, flanked by her loyal shadow, Mia.

"Let’s see the face that earned the Don's pity," Sasha sneered, her voice dripping with condescension. Without warning, her manicured fingers clamped down on my chin, jerking my head up to face the morning light.

She had prepared a venomous speech, ready to expose the ugly, scarred creature she believed I was. But as the sunlight hit my flawless, pale skin—illuminating the haunting resemblance to Ellen that I no longer bothered to hide—the words died in her throat.

Sasha’s pupils dilated in sheer, unadulterated shock. Her breath hitched. I watched the realization crash over her: the security dossier she had bribed an Associate to see was a complete fabrication. But more importantly, I saw the terror that followed. To accuse me of faking the photo meant admitting she had bypassed the Don's Command to spy on his private files. It was an instant death sentence.

I didn't pull away. Instead, I let a slow, chilling smile curve my lips.

"Careful, Sasha," I murmured, my voice as smooth and soft as silk. "Even the most beautiful roses in this greenhouse have thorns. Grasp them too tightly, and you'll only bleed."

Sasha snatched her hand back as if my skin had burned her. She looked like she had swallowed glass, her chest heaving as she was forced to choke down her fury and confusion. She couldn't strike me, and she couldn't expose me. I had trapped her in her own web.

Before Sasha could recover her composure, a sharp scoff from Mia broke the tension.

"Disgusting," Mia muttered, her eyes darting across the room.

I followed her gaze. Standing near the center of the Solarium, sticking out like a bleeding wound among the elegant velvet and lace of the other women, was Kelsey. She wore a scandalous, nearly transparent crimson slip dress. It was a pathetic, desperate attempt to catch Dante’s eye when he passed by the glass corridors after his meeting with the Consigliere.

Chloe, who had been sitting quietly near the ferns, tilted her head. "Kelsey is certainly brave," Chloe whispered, her tone deceptively sweet, though her eyes gleamed with calculated malice. "That dress is so striking. When the Don passes by, his gaze will be locked solely on her. No one else will even exist in his eyes."

It was a masterful execution. Chloe’s soft words acted like gasoline on an open flame.

Sasha’s head snapped toward Kelsey, the murderous jealousy she couldn't unleash on me instantly finding a new, oblivious target. Kelsey, completely misreading the sudden attention, actually offered Sasha a smug, triumphant wink. She thought she had outsmarted us all.

Then, the heavy, rhythmic thud of Soldati boots echoed from the marble corridor outside. Dante was approaching.

Panic and pure spite twisted Sasha’s features. She would never allow a cheap Collateral to parade herself in front of the Dark Don.

"How dare you?" Sasha hissed, her voice slicing through the quiet chatter of the room. She marched toward Kelsey, pointing a trembling finger at the crimson dress. "To flaunt yourself like a street whore in the presence of the Matriarch is a vile insult to the Blackwell traditions!"

Kelsey’s smug smile vanished, replaced by sudden confusion.

"She needs to be taught respect," Sasha continued, turning toward Geraldine, who sat at the head of the room with a look of profound distaste. Sasha overstepped her bounds, driven by frantic jealousy. "Send her to the East Wing Library. She will hand-copy the *Cosa Nostra Code of Conduct*—all five hundred pages. And she will not eat until it is finished."

"I agree," Mia chimed in immediately. "It’s an embarrassment."

Outside, the footsteps grew louder. The Don was seconds away.

"No!" Kelsey gasped, the reality of her ruined plan crashing down on her. She looked wildly toward the glass doors, then spun toward me, her eyes wide with desperate, frantic terror. "Giada! Tell them! I’m your sister, please!"

I sat perfectly still. I picked up my bone-china teacup, the delicate clink of porcelain echoing softly. I took a slow sip of my Earl Grey, my gaze meeting hers over the rim. My eyes were dead, devoid of a single ounce of mercy.

Geraldine’s lips thinned. She clearly despised Sasha’s presumption, but the Matriarch would never pass up an opportunity to enforce family decorum and protect her son's eyes from trash.

"Take her away," Geraldine commanded with a dismissive flick of her wrist.

Two heavily armed Soldati stepped into the Solarium, grabbing Kelsey by the arms. She thrashed and screamed, her voice echoing off the glass panes as she was dragged backward, the crimson silk tearing against the doorframe. She missed Dante by mere seconds.

I lowered my teacup, savoring the bitter taste of the tea, while the remaining women in the room sat in suffocating silence.