Elena Vitiello POV:

Two massive inner-circle guards grabbed Sofia by her upper arms. They didn't use any care. They hauled her off the floor, dragging her toward the gallery doors like a heavy bag of garbage.

"No! Let me go!" Sofia shrieked, her feet kicking wildly.

They dragged her down the three flights of stairs and out the front doors. I followed slowly, watching from the top of the marble steps.

Sofia struggled on the rough stone path leading to the main gates. Her expensive black pants tore at the knees. Skin scraped against the gravel, leaving thin trails of blood. The fake elegance she had worn like a mask was completely shredded.

She twisted her neck, looking back at the estate. "Luca! Save me! Luca!" she screamed, her voice echoing in the cold night air.

Luca was at the bottom of the steps. He tried to lunge forward, but Domenico slammed the barrel of his rifle into the small of Luca's back. Luca hit the stone steps hard. Domenico planted his heavy combat boot squarely between Luca's shoulder blades, pinning him to the ground.

Luca's eyes were bloodshot. He gritted his teeth, forced to watch the woman he ruined his life for get thrown out like a stray dog.

With a deafening metallic clang, the heavy wrought-iron gates slammed shut right in Sofia's face.

She fell against the bars. Her hands gripped the cold iron. She looked up through the gaps, her eyes locking onto mine. The mask was gone. There was nothing but pure, unadulterated venom and hatred in her stare.

I stood at the top of the stairs, looking down at her. The night wind whipped my dark green silk robe around my legs. The black diamond necklace rested heavy on my chest. I felt absolutely nothing for her.

I turned my back on the gates. I didn't even glance at Luca, who was still pinned to the ground. I walked back inside the house.

Behind me, I heard a sickening crunch. Luca punched the solid stone step with his bare fist. His knuckles split open, blood staining the rock. He let out a low, guttural growl of pure despair.

***

*Three days later. July 4th.*

In a high-end private clinic in downtown Chicago, Sofia sat on an examination table. She had spent the last of her stolen cash to have a plastic surgeon laser the fresh scars on her knees.

She stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror. Her eyes were dark and hollow. She touched her own cheek, silently swearing to make me pay in blood for humiliating her.

She reached into her purse and pulled out her cracked burner phone. She dialed a number.

"Marco," she said, her voice instantly dropping into a sweet, breathy purr. Marco was a minor, sleazy gang boss who operated on the edges of our territory. "I was wondering if you needed a plus-one for the yacht party tonight on the lake."

***

Back at the estate, I stood rigidly in front of the mirrors in my fitting room. Two tailors were carefully pinning the hem of a white silk haute couture dress. The fabric was incredibly thin, designed to drape flawlessly over the body.

The heavy oak door opened. My father, the Underboss, walked in.

He didn't knock. He looked at me, his eyes running up and down the dress. A cold, calculating satisfaction gleamed in his eyes. He wasn't looking at his daughter; he was looking at a highly valuable asset.

"You will attend the party on Lake Michigan tonight," my father commanded.

"I don't care for fireworks," I replied flatly.

"I am not asking," he snapped. "There are rumors that representatives from New York might be present. You will go, and you will look perfect."

I raised my hand and gently touched the cold black diamonds resting against my collarbone. I stared back at him through the mirror and gave a single, tight nod.

***

Out on the training grounds, the midday sun was brutal.

Luca and Matteo were dressed in cheap, scratchy security uniforms. They were unloading heavy wooden crates of fireworks from a delivery truck. Sweat poured down Luca's face, stinging his eyes. He looked down at his hands, rough and calloused from three days of manual labor. His chest burned with deep resentment.

"This is bullshit," Matteo muttered, dropping a crate. "They assigned us to the bottom deck perimeter tonight. We're practically guarding the engine room."

Luca wiped his forehead with the back of his dirty arm. He looked toward the main house. "It doesn't matter," he said, his voice thick with a twisted, pathetic devotion. "As long as I can see her from afar, it's enough."

***

By evening, the massive luxury yacht was docked at the edge of Lake Michigan. The boat was lit up like a floating palace, the air thick with cigar smoke, expensive perfume, and the sound of popping champagne corks.

My bulletproof SUV pulled up to the pier. I stepped out. The white silk dress flowed around me, catching the harbor lights. The black diamond necklace drew every eye on the dock. Total silence fell over the crowd for three seconds before the whispers started.

Luca stood by the metal detectors at the boarding ramp. His eyes locked onto me, wide and obsessive, but he shrank back, not daring to step into my path.

I walked right past him. I didn't look at him. I didn't acknowledge his existence.

Ten minutes after I boarded, a loud sports car violently braked at the drop-off zone.

Sofia stepped out. She was wearing a skin-tight, provocative red dress that left very little to the imagination. She wrapped her arm tightly around Marco's bicep.

She stood on the dock, her eyes scanning the upper decks of the yacht until she found the flash of my white dress.

Sofia picked up a glass of dark red wine from a passing waiter's tray, her mouth curving into a twisted smile.

"Tonight, I'm going to stain the white snow with red spots."

Elena Vitiello POV:

The heavy engines of the yacht rumbled beneath my feet. The massive boat slowly pulled away from the dock, gliding out onto the dark, shimmering surface of Lake Michigan. In the distance, early July 4th fireworks were already popping in the sky.

I stood near the railing of the second-floor VIP deck. I held a crystal flute of champagne, my fingers resting lightly against the cold glass. I felt utterly exhausted.

Several young Chicago capos approached me, puffing their chests out, trying to strike up a conversation. Their eyes kept dropping to the heavy black diamond necklace resting on my collarbone. It was a beacon of wealth and danger.

"Beautiful night, Elena," one of them said, stepping too close.

"No," I replied, my voice a flat, freezing single syllable. I didn't look at him. I just stared out at the black water. The men shifted uncomfortably, feeling the suffocating pressure of my absolute rejection, and slowly backed away.

Down on the bottom deck, Luca and Matteo were walking the perimeter. Luca's neck was craned upward, his eyes obsessively glued to my silhouette on the second floor.

Matteo shoved Luca's shoulder hard. "Stop staring! If Domenico catches you slacking, we're dead."

Luca blinked, reluctantly pulling his eyes away, his jaw tight with frustration.

On the other side of the bottom deck, Sofia was walking arm-in-arm with Marco. She kept her head down, skillfully using the crowds to stay completely out of Luca's line of sight.

"I need to use the ladies' room," Sofia whispered, kissing Marco's cheek. Before he could answer, she slipped away into the crowd.

She didn't go to the bathroom. She walked straight to the main bar.

"Two glasses of your darkest Burgundy," Sofia ordered, leaning over the counter.

The bartender poured the deep, blood-red liquid into two large crystal goblets. Sofia took them, her fingers gripping the stems tightly. She turned and walked toward the spiral staircase leading to the VIP deck.

Two Chicago guards stood at the bottom of the stairs. They crossed their arms, blocking her path. "VIP pass only."

Sofia smiled, leaning forward to show off her cleavage. She slid a thick roll of hundred-dollar bills into the guard's pocket. "I'm just bringing these up to Marco. He's very thirsty."

The guard felt the weight of the cash. He smirked, taking a step back to let her through.

I was standing near the edge of the deck, facing the water. The cool lake breeze hit my face. I closed my eyes for just a second, letting my guard down in the quiet isolation.

Sofia climbed the stairs, her high heels making no sound on the carpeted steps. She moved like a snake in the grass.

Down below, Luca randomly glanced up toward the stairs. He caught a flash of a tight red dress disappearing onto the second floor. His stomach dropped. He knew that dress.

Luca grabbed the radio on his shoulder. "Second floor, you have an unauthorized female approaching the boss. Intercept!"

Static. The guards had turned off their radios the second they took the bribe.

Panic seized Luca's chest. He broke protocol, abandoning his post, and sprinted toward the spiral staircase.

On the second floor, Sofia was now only three steps behind me.

She took a deep breath. Her face morphed into a mask of bright, innocent surprise.

She stomped her heel hard against the wooden deck. "Sister Elena!" she yelled at the top of her lungs.

My eyes snapped open. The hairs on my arms stood up. I spun around, my body tense, my eyes locking onto her with pure disgust.

The moment I turned, Sofia purposely twisted her ankle. She let out a fake shriek and threw her entire body forward.

Her arms swung out. The two heavy glasses of dark red wine launched through the air.

I tried to step back, but the wooden deck was slick from the humidity, and my stiletto heels offered no grip. I couldn't move fast enough.

The dark, freezing liquid hit me squarely in the chest.

The wine splashed violently across my white silk dress. The delicate fabric instantly absorbed the dark red alcohol. Within seconds, the silk clung to my skin, turning completely transparent, exposing the outline of my body to the cold air.

The music seemed to stop. The men around the deck turned their heads. A chorus of low, dirty whistles and mocking laughter erupted from the crowd.

I froze in place. The cold wine dripped down my neck, sliding over the black diamonds, soaking into my skin. The humiliation was a physical weight, pressing down on my lungs.

I didn't try to cover myself. I stared dead at the fake-crying Sofia on the floor, pronouncing every word:

"You better pray you make it off this boat alive today."

Elena Vitiello POV:

The whistles from the crowd grew louder, echoing off the metal bulkheads of the yacht. Several drunk gang bosses stepped closer, their eyes raking over my wet, clinging dress with undisguised, filthy hunger.

I clenched my fists at my sides. My fingernails dug so hard into my palms that the skin broke. I forced my spine to stay perfectly straight, refusing to cross my arms or show a single ounce of panic.

On the floor, Sofia was putting on the performance of a lifetime. She clutched her ankle, sobbing hysterically. Her tears ruined her makeup, making her look like a terrified victim who had just accidentally spilled a drink.

A loud, angry roar came from the spiral staircase.

Luca and Matteo burst onto the second deck, shoving two men out of the way. Luca's chest was heaving, his eyes scanning the crowd wildly.

He saw me standing there, soaked in wine, the white silk completely transparent against my skin. Then he saw Sofia sobbing on the wooden deck.

Luca didn't hesitate. He ripped off his heavy black suit jacket and sprinted forward.

For one fraction of a second, as he ran toward me, a tiny, pathetic sliver of hope flared in my chest. I thought, after ten years of loyalty, he had finally woken up. I thought he was bringing the jacket to cover me, to protect my dignity from the staring men.

He didn't even slow down.

Luca ran right past me. The wind from his movement chilled the wet silk on my skin. He dropped to his knees beside Sofia.

He wrapped his thick black jacket tightly around her shoulders, pulling her against his chest. "Are you okay? Did you twist it badly?" he asked, his voice trembling with frantic concern.

Matteo ran up right behind him. He crouched next to Sofia and shot me a vicious glare, as if I was the one who had pushed her to the ground.

I stood completely alone in the freezing lake wind. The wet fabric felt like ice against my ribs. Something inside my chest didn't just break; it shattered into dust.

That tiny sliver of hope died completely, turning into endless, cold ash. The last invisible string connecting me to Luca snapped.

The laughter around me suddenly died down. The men stopped whistling. They physically took a step back.

I didn't realize it, but the aura radiating from my body had turned completely lethal. I slowly turned my head, sweeping my eyes over the crowd like a queen inspecting a line of corpses. Every man who met my gaze instantly looked down at the floor, terrified by the pure, freezing death in my eyes.

Sofia rested her head against Luca's shoulder. She looked past his neck, locking eyes with me. A smug, victorious smile curled her lips.

Luca turned his head and looked up at me. His brow furrowed in judgment. "Why do you have to be so mean to her? It was an accident!"

I didn't answer him. Words were a waste of breath on a dead man.

I turned on my heel and walked away, heading straight for the metal stairs that led up to the isolated top deck.

Just as my foot hit the first step, the yacht's PA system crackled to life.

"Ladies and gentlemen, our July 4th special fireworks display will begin in two minutes!"

The deck instantly buzzed with excitement. Staff members in white uniforms hurried through the crowd, passing out small, handheld sparklers to the guests.

Sofia's eyes darted around the deck. She pushed herself out of Luca's arms and pointed at a metal utility cart parked near the railing. Resting on top was a massive, industrial-grade Roman candle, as thick as a man's arm.

"Luca," Sofia said, her voice trembling with fake innocence. "I'm so scared. I want to light that big firework to calm my nerves. Can I?"

Luca nodded immediately, desperate to soothe her. He walked over to the cart and picked up the heavy cardboard tube.

A staff member rushed forward, holding his hands up. "Sir, please! That's professional gear! The recoil is massive!"

Luca shoved the man hard in the chest, sending him stumbling backward. "Back off."

Luca carried the heavy tube back to Sofia. He handed it to her, then pulled a lighter from his pocket and flicked it open, lighting the thick green fuse himself.

The fuse hissed violently, spitting bright orange sparks.

Sofia gripped the heavy tube with both hands. The second the fuse burned down to the base, the fake innocence vanished from her face. Her eyes turned completely black with malice.

She spun around on her heel, raised the heavy barrel, and aimed it directly at the middle of the stairs where I was walking.

Luca and Matteo stood right next to her. They just watched, their brains completely failing to process that she was holding a weapon.

The first heavy firework shell shot out of the tube with a deafening, piercing screech, lighting the entire night sky on fire.

Sofia's face twisted in the firelight like a demon. She screamed, "Go to hell, you high and mighty princess!"