Adrian had been gone less than five minutes when Albert Rosario approached.

He was the second son of the Rosario family, known for dirty hands and a worse reputation. He leaned close to my neck and inhaled.

"Miss Sorrento, you smell good tonight."

I did not turn. "Albert. Stay away."

"Adrian told me to bring you a drink." He laughed. "I ignored him. Don’t you think he’s lost his mind? Sending me to wait on you."

I faced him.

His eyes were dull with alcohol.

"I told you not to put all your faith in the Camerlanos. You should have learned to rely on me too. But now look at you. No signet, no protection."

"Move."

"No." His hand landed on my shoulder. "Grace, if you didn’t have that face, do you think a bastard like you would still be untouched? You really believe the Camerlanos will protect you forever?"

Before he could press harder, another hand caught his wrist and twisted it outward.

Albert’s face drained of color.

Adrian’s voice was cold above him. "Didn’t I tell you not to touch what’s mine?"

"You didn’t choose her tonight," Albert said through clenched teeth. "You chose Lucia. And you’re still keeping Grace?"

"What belongs to me is not your concern."

Adrian released him. Albert stumbled back, cursed, and left.

Adrian turned to me.

"He touched you and you didn’t fight back?"

I met his gaze. "Fight back? Do you think everyone is allowed to touch me tonight?"

"That’s not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?"

He hesitated.

"You know what kind of night this was. I couldn’t spend the whole time focused on you."

"I never asked you to. I asked you to keep one promise. One signet. Was that really beyond you?"

He was silent for a long time.

Finally, he said, "Grace, don’t make this bigger than it is."

That was his answer.

Lucia approached with a glass of champagne. Tear tracks still marked her face, but her steps were steady.

Adrian glanced at the glass. "You can drink?"

"I want to try tonight," she said, eyes fixed on him.

One sharp and guarded, one soft and newly opened. It was not hard to see which one he chose.

"Good," he said. "Tonight is yours."

He looked at me once more. "I’ll see you tomorrow."

Then he left.

Tomorrow.

The flight from Port Saint Giovanni to Chicago was only three and a half hours.

You can come find me in Chicago tomorrow, I thought.

Lucia stayed behind. The timid look vanished from her face, and with the Camerlano signet pinned at her collarbone, she stood before me like she already owned the room.

"Grace," she said quietly, "you already have everything. Can’t you let me have this one night?"

When Adrian had once asked me to choose an orphan for him to sponsor, I had chosen Lucia.

I had brought her into this world myself.

"You grew up with everything," she continued. "I had nothing. All I want is Adrian’s protection for one night."

"What makes you think I am any different from a dog in the Sorrento household?"

"At least you have the Sorrento name."

I said nothing.

She did not understand.

The Sorrento matriarch looked at me like an account waiting to be cleared. My father had twenty-three acknowledged children, and bastard daughters were placed at the very end.

I had not survived because I carried the Sorrento name.

I had survived because at twelve, I knelt in Vincent Sorrento’s study and asked him to teach me, protect me, and stand between me and the blade when it mattered.

Vincent was my father’s younger brother, and the only man in the Sorrento family who had ever treated me as useful instead of disposable.

He had never been a man who smiled.

"Your father has twenty-three children," he said then. "Why should I choose you?"

"Because I have nowhere else to go. Someone with no way out will never betray you."

After a long silence, he said, "Stand up."

That was the beginning.

Vincent helped me then because desperation made me loyal. Tonight, he would not help me because the Sorrentos had already chosen their deal, and I was no longer worth the risk.

The result of the Claiming Rite had decided my fate. The Sorrentos wanted an alliance with the Rizzos in Chicago and would not sacrifice a legitimate daughter.

So they would send me.

His message came quickly.

[Handle it yourself.]

I let out a quiet laugh.

Back then, when he told me to stand, my legs had been shaking. Now, when he told me to handle it, I stood without hesitation.

I had to stay.

If I left Port Saint Giovanni tonight, I might never come back as Grace Sorrento. I would come back as a Rizzo’s wife, or not at all.

Lucia’s hand brushed mine. Her skin was warm against my cold fingers.

She leaned closer.

"Grace, do you think Adrian actually knows what the signet means?"

She smiled and stepped back.

"Think about it."

So I went to find Adrian.

Adrian was on the second-floor terrace, taking a call. When he saw me, he only said to the person on the other end, "We’ll talk later."

"Do you actually know what the signet means?"

"I do." He leaned against the railing. "But rules are rules, and people are people."

"What does that mean?"

"It means giving the signet to Lucia tonight does not mean you are out. I’ll talk to the Sorrentos. Trust me."

"Then get it back now. I only need it for one night. I’ll return it tomorrow."

"That would look bad."

"Look bad?"

"She has already taken photos and sent them to the nuns at the orphanage. How do you expect her to explain it?"

The nuns.

Lucia had prepared even that.

I looked at Adrian and realized he truly believed I was being unreasonable.

"Grace, calm down." His tone softened, like he was speaking to a younger sister. "You are mine. Everyone in this city knows that. Even without the signet, no one would dare send you anywhere."

"Then say that in front of the Godfather with me."

His expression changed at last.

Not anger. Tired impatience.

"Grace."

"What did you say three days ago? You said the signet was mine. You said you would not let anyone send me to Chicago. You said..."

"Enough."

His voice was quiet, but final.

He straightened from the railing and looked at me with absolute certainty.

"You really think the Sorrentos would dare send you away after I said no?"

"Yes."

"No," he said. "You are not going anywhere."

There it was, his mistake. He thought his name was enough to stop a deal that had already been made behind closed doors.

"If you knew I would really be sent away," I asked quietly, "would you still have given it to her?"

He frowned, as if the question itself made no sense.

"That won’t happen."

He did not answer me.

He did not need to.

My heel struck someone behind me.

Lucia’s voice came from my back, carefully startled.

"Grace, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to."

She reached too quickly for her glass, and red wine spilled across her skirt.

Adrian caught her at once.

His gaze moved from Lucia’s red eyes to my face.

That look was not anger.

It was judgment.

"Grace. Go home. I’ll come to you tomorrow."

There was no room for discussion.

It was an order.

I left the manor without saying goodbye. At the gate, I slowed for a second, but I did not turn back.

Adrian Camerlano had made his choice, and so had I.

We would not meet tomorrow.

Maybe we would not meet again.

I returned to the Sorrento estate.

Inside, the matriarch sat in the living room with a cup of cold tea.

"We raised you for eighteen years," she said. "Now it is time for you to repay us. Since the Camerlano family has chosen someone else, there is no reason for you to remain."

She paused.

"You leave tomorrow. Buy your own ticket. The Sorrento family will not pay for a bastard’s flight."

My third sister leaned against the stairs, turning the key to my room in her hand.

"Oh, and that man from the Rizzo family is said to have killed two fiancées. The first was an accident. The second was not."

She smiled.

"Mother asked me to wish you a safe trip."

I went back to my room.

It did not even have a lock.

I took off my dress, folded it, and placed it by the door. Then I removed every piece of jewelry and set them on the tray.

There was nothing left on me that belonged to the Sorrentos.

I opened the drawer and reached to the very back.

The ring.

Silver, with two initials engraved inside.

A.C.

Adrian had given it to me on my sixteenth birthday.

"Wear this," he had said. "No one in this city will dare touch you."

I held it for a moment.

Then I put it back.

I did not take it with me.

At six in the morning, the estate was still asleep.

I carried a small backpack, slipped out through the side entrance, walked twenty minutes to the subway, and rode three stops to the airport.

Security. Boarding. My seat.

The seatbelt clicked shut.

As the plane began to taxi, I took out my phone.

Before I turned it off, one last message appeared from Lucia.

In the photo, the white-gold signet was pinned to her chest. Adrian’s hand rested on her shoulder, and the cufflinks at his wrist were the ones I had given him.

The caption read:

[Thank you, Grace. I will make good use of what was yours.]

I turned off the phone.

The plane accelerated.

At the end of the runway, the coastline shimmered in the morning light.

Then the announcement came over the speaker.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we apologize. Air traffic control has issued a directive. Due to an emergency authorization from the Camerlano family, all outbound flights from Port Saint Giovanni are temporarily suspended. This aircraft will return to the terminal. Please remain seated."