I wasn't going to stand there being the third wheel to whatever this was becoming. I pushed through the pain and went upstairs to get my art supplies.

When we first got together, Dante knew I loved painting. He converted two bedrooms on the upper floor just to give me a studio.

But the second I stepped into the hallway, two nannies burst out of the nursery. One was holding Bianca's third son. The other had two bags of luggage in her hands.

The one with the baby shoved him into my arms.

"Nora, you just had an abortion, not surgery. You should've been back the second you climbed off that table. A mere artist like you has no right to put on airs like a pampered miss."

"Exactly. You've looked after all these kids before. Even for their sake, you shouldn't disappear for more than an hour. Zero responsibility."

They kept talking as they walked downstairs with their bags.

"Young Master Dante said we've been working too hard. He gave us time off."

"Take good care of the young master and the little princess. If anything happens to a Costello child, that's on you."

The baby started wailing in my arms. The music from downstairs pumped on. Daniel had already climbed into his father's lap with a picture book. The nannies slammed the front door behind them.

I stood in this enormous house and genuinely didn't know what I was. Dante's lover? The Costellos' nanny? Not even a nanny, really. In everyone's eyes, I was the woman who ruined Dante and Bianca's arranged marriage..

I stopped trying to sort it out. I put the baby down and walked into the studio.

The moment I stepped inside, I thought I'd walked into the wrong room.

That wall used to be covered in our plans. Every sketch and photo Dante had collected for our life in the States. The art school brochure pinned dead center. The house he'd found near campus. The gallery he thought would suit me. The names of artists he wanted to invite to my first show.

He'd done it all himself. Said if I looked at those plans every day, I'd have more motivation to paint.

"I want to see you happy. That's the only way I'm happy."

Now every inch of that wall was covered with photos of Dante and Bianca, their children, their future.

A picture of the two of them outside Oxford.

"Daniel, Mom and Dad came to put in a good word for you. Direct admission when you're old enough."

A photo at a restaurant I'd once shared with Dante. He was feeding Bianca a bite of steak.

"Baby girl, Daddy brought Mommy to the pretty restaurant. You have your mommy's taste. When you're big enough, we'll bring you here. Your smile, and your mommy's, that's the greatest reward your daddy could ask for."

I stood there looking at all of it, every declaration, every picture, every promise that used to have my name in it. All the strength seeped out of my body.

My hands dropped to my sides. The baby slipped from my arms onto the sofa.

He cried even harder. His endless howls wore away my final patience. My arms hung loose, then my hands clenched slowly. Memories of his endless excuses and the scenes on the wall churned restlessly inside me.

I lost it.

I ripped every photo off the wall. I grabbed fistfuls of paint and smeared it over everything, every sweet word, every caption, every lie.

Dante heard his son's screaming. He came in at a run.

He scooped the boy up without even registering what I looked like. When he finally turned to me, brows knotted, his face said I was the problem.

"Nora, is this how you look after a child? If something happens to him, you’ll pay with your life!"

The warmth went out of my voice, though it had been gone for a while.

"Go ahead. Kill me. It's not like that's hard for you."

"But since we once loved each other, tell me the truth just once. Why exactly am I supposed to be raising your children with another woman?"

"Am I your lover? Or am I your kids' nanny?"

Dante's expression shifted. He didn't answer the question. He grabbed onto the other part and took hold of my shoulders.

"Nora. What do you mean 'once loved.' Say that again."

I pointed at the wreckage around us.

"Dante, you should be asking yourself that."

He looked at the crumpled photos on the floor. Something flickered across his face, guilt that went as fast as it came. Then he dropped to one knee, every inch of him radiating sincerity.

"Nora, I know these years have been hard on you. But trust me, with Bianca it's only ever been strategy. Once she delivers this baby, I'm cutting ties. The elders will hand power over to me, and we'll be free."

"We had a plan, remember? America. Art school. The gallery. Finishing what your mother started."

His phone rang. He stepped away to answer it, thinking I couldn't hear.

He underestimated the Costellos, because my phone buzzed at the same moment.

A wedding invitation. Dante and Bianca. The date: tomorrow.

The witness list ran long, top names from families across every territory. Men whose presence made a marriage permanent. Nobody walked away from a wedding they witnessed, not in this world. That was how you lost your standing, and without standing, you had no business.

Standing there holding that invitation, I finally understood where I ranked. Below Bianca's name. Below the children's bloodline. Below the family's reputation. Below everything.

Tears fell fast. My chest felt like something was grinding it apart.

I would not endure his excuses another moment. I grabbed my art case and walked.

He dropped the phone and caught my arm.

"Nora, so what if I'm marrying Bianca? You're still the one I love."

"Can you stop being so selfish? Your mother is gone, but my family is still alive. Don't make this harder than it has to be."

For a moment I couldn't breathe. Literally couldn't get any air.

I stood there until I came back to myself. By then the sky was dark. The guests had all gone. Dante and Bianca had left together.

Good. Time for me to leave too.

I went to the studio to get what was left of my mother's things. Her old paint case. Her sketchbook. Her voice recorder.

On that recorder was her voice, the recording she'd left me. Her application to the American art school that never got accepted. And her words.

"I hope my darling Nora gets to see the truly free art world one day. The one I never got to."

Those words kept me going through eight years of hell.

But when I opened the studio door, the room had been destroyed.

Daniel had kicked the lock in. He'd slashed through every piece of work I had. My mother's paint case was crushed. The voice recorder was in pieces underfoot.

He glared at me with real hatred, then picked up a can of paint and threw it at my face.

"Bitch! All of this is my father’s property. You gold-digging whore don’t get to take a single thing with you!"

I didn't care about the paint dripping from my hair and my face. I dropped to my knees and searched through the wreckage for my mother's recorder. Maybe the memory chip was still intact. Maybe I could still hear her voice one more time.

Daniel made a sound like he was calling a dog. He wanted me to look at him.

He was holding the memory chip between his fingers.

Snap.

Dante's footsteps came down the hall. He crouched beside me, took out a pocket square, and dabbed at my face.

"Nora, those things weren't worth anything. I'll get you new ones."

"Your body hasn't recovered. Stop making a scene."

My throat was raw. There was ringing in my ears. My mind went blank, my eyes closed, and I went down into the white paint spilled across the floor. Like a burial.

Dante carried me back to the estate. When I woke up the next morning, everyone had gone to the wedding. The house was empty.

I spent that time searching for evidence of the Costello family’s crimes.

The wedding march played in the Costello estate's hall, and I was already on a plane to the United States.