Elena POV

The Grand Ballroom was a sea of black tuxedos and designer gowns, a shark tank masquerading as a high-society gala.

I walked in on the arm of a wolf.

Luca Valenti wore his tuxedo like armor, the fabric tailored to conceal the holsters I knew were strapped tight against his ribs.

I wore the Heart of the North.

The diamond rested cold and heavy against my sternum, a blue fire that eclipsed every other jewel in the room. It was a Valenti heirloom, and wearing it tonight was nothing short of a declaration of war.

Silence rippled through the crowd as we descended the staircase. I watched the whispers forming on painted lips, saw the eyes of the Five Families darting between me and the far corner of the room.

Dante was there.

He gripped a glass of scotch, his knuckles white as he stared at Luca's hand possessively claiming my waist. Next to him stood Livia.

She was wearing the Blue Diamond he had bought at the auction, but the gem looked tacky against her pale skin, swallowing her whole. She looked small-like a child playing dress-up in her mother's jewelry.

We reached the floor, and a waiter immediately materialized with a tray of champagne.

"The necklace suits you, Signorina," he murmured, his eyes wide with awe. "It looks like freedom."

I took a glass.

"It feels like it," I said.

But the peace didn't last. Livia marched toward us, dragging Dante by the sleeve, her face twisted in a mask of counterfeit concern.

She stopped in front of me, reaching out to touch the diamond at my throat.

"Oh, Elena," she cooed. "Is this a loan? It must be terrifying to wear something you don't own."

Luca caught her wrist before she could make contact. He didn't squeeze; he simply held it there, suspended in the air like a caught fly.

"Do not touch what is mine," Luca growled.

His voice was low, a rumble of thunder that vibrated deep in my chest.

Livia yanked her hand back, looking immediately to Dante, waiting for him to defend her honor.

Dante stepped forward, his haunted eyes locked on mine.

"Take it off, Elena," he said. "You are making a scene."

"I am the scene," I replied.

Livia laughed-a brittle, sharp sound.

"You're just a political inconvenience," she whispered, stepping closer so only I could hear. "Dante sleeps in my bed. He laughs about you while he's inside me."

I felt the ghost of an old sting, but the wound had long since calloused over.

"Enjoy the leftovers, Livia," I said.

Her eyes narrowed into slits. She reached into her clutch and pulled out a small remote, pointing it at the massive projector screen behind the stage where a tribute to the families was looping.

"Let's see who the city really respects," she hissed.

She pressed the button.

The music cut out. The screen flickered, and a video began to play.

It was grainy footage, taken from a hidden camera in my old bedroom at the Moretti estate months ago.

I was crying. I was curled on the floor, sobbing Dante's name, begging the empty room for him to love me.

It was raw. It was pathetic. It was the most vulnerable moment of my life, broadcast to three hundred of the most dangerous people in the country.

Laughter rippled through the room.

"Look at her!" Livia shouted over the audio of my own weeping. "She's unstable! She's obsessed!"

My blood turned to ice.

Livia smiled at me, triumphant.

"Leave the city, Elena," she threatened. "Or I release the rest."

I looked at Dante.

He was watching the screen. He wasn't stopping it. He was letting it play. He was letting her strip me naked in front of the world.

Something inside me snapped. I didn't think; I moved.

I stepped forward and swung my hand.

My palm connected with Livia's cheek.

Crack.

The sound silenced the ballroom instantly.

Livia stumbled back, clutching her face.

"Dante!" she screamed.

Dante moved then, rushing to her side and turning on me with a snarl.

"You dare touch her?" he roared.

"She is humiliating me," I said, my voice deadly steady. "And you are watching."

"She is showing the truth!" Dante yelled. "You are weak!"

Luca didn't speak.

He simply picked up a heavy wooden chair from a nearby table and hurled it at the screen.

The chair smashed into the projector surface, tearing the fabric and shattering the image of my tears.

The room gasped.

Luca walked to the center of the floor. He pulled a gun from his jacket, holding it loosely at his side.

"Elena is under Valenti protection," Luca announced.

His voice carried to every corner of the room, leaving no room for argument.

"Anyone who insults her, insults me. Anyone who films her, dies."

He looked at Dante with cold, dead eyes.

"Control your whore, Moretti. Or I will put her down."

Dante stiffened.

Don Salvatore, who had been watching from the shadows, stepped forward, his face pale.

"This is a neutral zone!" Salvatore shouted.

"Not anymore," Luca said.

He offered me his arm.

"Shall we?" he asked.

I looked at Livia. Her cheek was blazing red. She was trembling, but her eyes were still full of hate.

"Now," I whispered to her. "Let's see if you survive the hand you've dealt."

I took Luca's arm.

We walked out, leaving the shattered screen and the shattered engagement behind us.

Elena POV

Two days later, the air in the Council Chamber felt stagnant.

It smelled of polished mahogany and decaying lies.

Dante sat at the head of the table, looking haggard.

Dark circles bruised the skin beneath his eyes, betraying sleepless nights.

Livia was conspicuously absent-likely hiding somewhere in the estate, nursing her bruised ego.

I took the seat on the opposite side.

Luca sat beside me, leaning back in his chair with calculated nonchalance, cleaning his fingernails with the tip of a switchblade.

Don Salvatore cleared his throat, the sound dry and rattling.

"We are here to settle matters," the old man announced. "The incident at the Gala was... unfortunate."

"It was a declaration of war," Luca corrected, his voice low, not bothering to look up.

Dante slammed his palm against the table.

"The video was a fake!" Dante insisted, the lie desperate. "I told Livia to get rid of it. She is just... troubled. She thought she was helping."

I stared at him coldly.

"Troubled?" I asked.

"She is my cousin's ward," Dante said, the lie rolling off his tongue like oil. "She is unstable. I was merely trying to de-escalate the situation."

"You stood there," I said. "You watched."

"I was in shock," Dante pleaded, leaning forward. "Elena, you know I love you. The contract stands. Come home."

I reached into my bag, my fingers closing around cool metal.

I pulled out a small digital recorder and set it on the table.

"I don't think I will," I said.

I pressed play.

The audio was crisp, cutting through the room's silence.

It was a recording from the infirmary, taken the day my leg had been shattered.

She won't die. This just reminds her who holds the real power. Pain is a good teacher.

Dante's voice filled the chamber.

In the present, his face drained of color, turning a sickly gray.

The Council members shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

I let it play.

I let the silence stretch long after the recording ended.

"That was out of context," Dante stammered, sweat beading on his brow.

"Context?" I challenged. "You watched her cut the cable. You watched me fall."

I pulled out another file and slid it across the wood.

"And this," I added. "From your private study. 'Elena is just a political necessity. You are my Queen.'"

Dante shot to his feet.

"Stop it!" he shouted.

Luca moved then-faster than thought.

He was across the table in a blur of motion.

His fist connected with Dante's jaw with a sickening crack.

Dante crumpled to the floor like a puppet with cut strings.

The perimeter soldiers instantly raised their guns.

Luca didn't even flinch.

"Sit down," Luca ordered, his voice dominating the room.

The soldiers looked at Dante groaning on the floor, then at the man standing over him.

Slowly, they lowered their weapons.

Power recognizes power.

I stood up, smoothing my skirt.

"I am officially defecting," I announced to the silent room. "My father's ports now belong to the Valenti Syndicate."

Don Salvatore looked as if he were on the verge of a stroke.

"You cannot do this," he wheezed, clutching his chest. "The marriage contract..."

"Is void," I cut in. "Due to bad faith and attempted murder."

Dante dragged himself up from the floor.

Blood trickled from his split lip.

"You are mine," he spat, eyes wild. "You signed the papers."

I looked down at him with pure disdain.

"I signed a contract with a Don," I said coldly. "Not a pimp who lets his mistress run his house."

I turned on my heel to leave.

"You can keep Livia," I called out over my shoulder. "You deserve each other."