Elena Vitiello POV:

The sun dipped below the skyline, leaving the living room bathed in the orange glow of the streetlights outside. I sat on the couch, leaning over the coffee table. Spread out before me was a massive, hand-drawn map of the Moretti family's power structure.

Heavy, rhythmic footsteps echoed from the hallway outside.

My hand froze, the pen hovering over the paper. Five years of living together meant my body recognized the exact cadence of his walk. My muscles tightened instinctively.

Keys jingled. The lock turned, the rusty cylinder letting out a sharp click.

The door pushed open. Dante stepped into the narrow entryway, bringing a rush of cold air and heavy exhaustion with him. He didn't even knock.

I flipped the map over on the table instantly. I stood up, crossing my arms, and stared coldly at the man who had abandoned me at the altar twenty-four hours ago.

Dante shrugged off his suit jacket and tossed it onto the shoe cabinet. He loosened his silk tie, his eyes completely ignoring the hostile glare I was giving him as he walked straight into the living room.

He stepped up to the couch and reached out his arms, a natural, ingrained motion to pull me into a hug, acting as if the canceled wedding was just a minor scheduling error.

I took a sharp step backward. Dante's hands stopped in mid-air. His thick eyebrows pulled together in deep annoyance.

As he stood there, a cloying, sickeningly sweet scent of rose perfume hit my nose. It was heavy, overpowering his usual cedarwood. Sofia's favorite scent.

My stomach rolled violently. The nausea hit me so hard I had to turn my head away, bringing the back of my hand up to cover my mouth and nose.

Dante dropped his arms. "I made time in my schedule to come see you, Elena. Don't throw a tantrum."

A harsh laugh ripped from my throat. "You abandon your bride at the altar, and you have the nerve to stand in my apartment and demand gratitude?"

His jaw tightened. "Sofia just woke up. Her emotions are highly unstable. I am simply fulfilling my duty as a brother."

I stared right at his collar. Smeared against the crisp white fabric was a faint but undeniable smudge of pink lipstick.

"Fulfilling your duty?" I asked, my voice dropping to a deadly calm. "Does fulfilling your duty require moving her into the private villa that was supposed to be our home?"

Dante's eyes flickered away for a fraction of a second. He ran a hand through his dark hair, an aggressive, frustrated gesture meant to cover his guilt. "Stop being unreasonable. You know how fragile she is."

He turned his back on me and walked briskly toward the study. His hurried steps proved what I already knew—he wasn't here to comfort me.

I followed him to the doorway. I watched him pull open the bottom drawer of the heavy oak desk and dig out a thick manila folder stamped with a black and gold wax seal. It was the transfer deed for the Brooklyn port.

He tucked the folder under his arm and turned to leave, not even sparing me a second glance.

As he passed through the living room, he suddenly stopped. He looked over his shoulder, his blue eyes calculating and cold.

"You will visit Sofia at Margaret Private Hospital tomorrow," he ordered.

My eyes widened in disbelief. My fingernails dug so hard into my palms I felt the skin break. "Are you out of your mind?"

"She lost the last five years of her memory," Dante said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "She only remembers you as her best friend."

He took a step closer, his physical presence looming over me. "You will play the part of her best friend. You will not say a single word that might upset her. Do you understand?"

I looked up at his face. The man I had loved for five years was dead. In his place stood a selfish, cruel stranger. The last remnants of my affection turned to ash in my mouth.

I needed to know what was going on in that hospital. I had to find a weakness. I forced the burning hatred out of my eyes, relaxing my facial muscles into a blank, compliant mask.

"Fine," I said flatly.

Dante nodded, a satisfied smirk touching his lips. He reached out and patted the top of my head, a dismissive, patronizing gesture. "You have always been sensible, Elena."

The second his hand left my hair, I jerked my head to the side, my skin crawling as if a rat had crawled across it.

Dante didn't notice. He marched to the door, yanked it open, and slammed it shut behind him, fleeing the apartment like it was a prison cell.

The moment the lock clicked, I spun around and ran to the bathroom. I pumped three squirts of harsh liquid soap into my hands and scrubbed my hair where his fingers had touched me, rubbing the strands until my scalp burned.

I rinsed the soap away, watching the water swirl down the drain. I looked up at the mirror, my eyes practically glowing with malice. Let the white swan play her games. I wanted to see exactly what she was hiding.

"Sensible? I will show you exactly how terrifying my sensible side can be."

Elena Vitiello POV:

I pushed open the heavy, soundproof door of the VIP suite at Margaret Private Hospital. The overwhelming smell of industrial bleach mixed with the sickeningly sweet scent of blooming white lilies assaulted my nose immediately.

Sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows, highlighting the hospital bed. Sofia sat propped up against the pillows. She wore a standard hospital gown, her face pale, yet she still possessed that delicate, fragile beauty that made men want to protect her.

Dante sat in the armchair right beside her bed. He held a small paring knife, carefully peeling an apple for her. The look in his eyes was soft, patient, and completely devoted. In five years, Dante had never so much as poured me a glass of water.

At the sound of the door clicking shut, Dante’s head snapped up. The tenderness vanished from his face instantly, replaced by a hard, warning glare that told me to watch my mouth.

Sofia turned her head. The moment she saw me, her large brown eyes lit up like an innocent child's.

She threw the blankets off her legs and tried to slide out of the bed. Dante dropped the knife and the apple on the tray, lunging forward to grab her shoulders and hold her in place.

Sofia ignored his hands. She reached out past him and grabbed my stiff fingers, squeezing them tight. "Elena! Sister!" she cried, her voice dripping with sugar.

Every muscle in my arm screamed to pull away. I forced the corners of my mouth up into a rigid, entirely lifeless smile. "Congratulations on waking up."

Sofia’s eyes welled with tears. She pulled my hand against her soft cheek, rubbing against my knuckles. "It felt like I was in a long, dark dream for five years. I missed you so much."

The door opened again. A nurse rolled a medical cart into the room. She paused, taking in the scene. Her eyes flicked to me, filled with a potent mix of pity and blatant disgust. Everyone in the New York upper echelon knew I was the pathetic stand-in who got dumped.

That look felt like a physical needle sliding under my skin. I couldn't take it anymore. I yanked my hand back hard.

My fingernail brushed against the back of Sofia’s hand.

Sofia let out a sharp, dramatic gasp, pulling her hand to her chest. There wasn't even a red mark, let alone broken skin. But Dante reacted like she had been shot.

He snatched her hand, inspecting it frantically. Then he turned his head, his eyes blazing with fury. "Are you doing this on purpose?" he hissed, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper.

I stood rooted to the spot. My hands dropped to my sides, my fingers curling into the fabric of my trench coat. I looked at the two of them, watching the performance, and refused to offer a single word of defense.

Sofia immediately grabbed Dante’s sleeve, shaking her head with wide, tearful eyes. "Don't be mad at her, Dante. It’s my fault. I was just too excited."

As she spoke, her gaze drifted downward, landing on my collarbone. A flicker of cold calculation passed through her innocent eyes before she tilted her head.

"Oh," Sofia said, her voice breathy and confused. "That necklace looks so familiar."

Dante’s eyes followed hers. The moment he saw the blue sapphire resting against my skin, his face drained of color. He looked like someone had just slapped him across the jaw.

It was the necklace Dante bought me at a high-stakes auction a year ago. He paid an astronomical price for it, making headlines across the city.

Sofia bit her lower lip, looking up at Dante with a wounded expression. "Isn't that the necklace you promised to give me for my twentieth birthday?"

The air in the room turned to concrete. Dante shoved his chair back and stood up. He closed the distance between us in two massive strides, his tall frame casting a dark, oppressive shadow over me.

He reached out and grabbed the thick platinum chain around my neck. "Take it off," he ordered. "Give it back to her."

He pulled. The metal chain dug violently into the sensitive skin of my neck, choking me. A sharp, burning pain flared across my throat as a bright red line formed on my skin.

I stared at him, my eyes wide with shock. He had locked this clasp around my neck himself, telling me it was a thank you for my loyalty.

Dante wouldn't meet my eyes. He leaned down, his voice a low, threatening growl meant only for me. "Don't cause a scene here. Take it off, and I will compensate you later."

The sheer humiliation of his words set my blood on fire. My anger peaked, drowning out the physical pain. I raised both my hands, grabbed the platinum chain, and yanked downward with brutal force.

The metal links snapped with a sharp crack that echoed in the quiet room. The heavy sapphire pendant swung through the air.

I slammed the broken necklace directly into Dante’s chest. The jewels hit his suit jacket and slid down to the floor, clattering against the tiles.

I shot one last, freezing look at Sofia, who was hiding a tiny smirk behind her hand. I turned on my heel and marched out of the room, my footsteps heavy and fast.

The cold air of the hallway hit my face. I reached up, my fingers brushing the burning welt on my neck. The last ember of warmth I held for Dante Moretti died completely.

"Your trash. Keep it."