The fluorescent lights of the private clinic hummed with a sound that burrowed deep into my skull.

I had driven myself here at three in the morning, my hands trembling on the wheel as my temperature hit 104 degrees. My vision had blurred on the highway, the road slick with rain, but I made it. I always made it. That was my curse.

I was too competent to die, and too insignificant to be saved.

Now, I lay in a VIP recovery room, a solitary IV drip counting down the seconds of my life in clear, saline drops. No one sat in the chair beside my bed. No flowers on the table. Just the sterile smell of antiseptic and the throbbing ache in my joints.

I needed water. The nurse button was out of reach, and my body felt like lead. Gritting my teeth, I pushed myself up, dragging the IV pole with me as I shuffled toward the door.

The hallway was quiet, lined with luxury suites for the wounded foot soldiers of the underworld. Then, I heard a familiar voice drifting from a room two doors down.

"Open up, little bird. Just one more spoon."

I froze. It was Luca. His voice was tender, a soft baritone I hadn't heard directed at me in years.

I shouldn't have looked. I should have kept walking to the water cooler. But I was a masochist for the truth. Trembling, I peered through the crack in the door.

Sofia was sitting up in bed, looking radiant despite the hospital gown. She had a tiny bandage on her finger—a paper cut, perhaps. Luca sat on the edge of the bed, holding a bowl of soup, blowing on a spoonful before bringing it to her lips.

He looked at her as if she were made of spun glass—precious, fragile, and the only thing that mattered.

"I can't, Luca," she whimpered, turning her head away. "It hurts."

"It's just anxiety, sweetheart," he soothed, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. I spent the whole night guarding your door."

My grip on the IV pole tightened until my knuckles turned white. He had left me burning with fever to watch over a girl who was healthy enough to manipulate him.

"What about Elena?" Sofia asked, her eyes darting toward the door as if she sensed my presence. "Isn't she sick?"

Luca sighed, setting the spoon down. "Elena is fine. She's tough. She has no right to mind that I prioritize you right now. You are the one who needs protection."

The sound of my heart breaking was silent, but it felt like a gunshot in the quiet corridor.

I turned to leave, my legs shaking, and collided with a wall.

Dante Russo. My adoptive brother. The family Enforcer.

He looked down at me with a sneer, taking in my pale face and the IV pole.

"Spying, Elena?" he spat, his voice low and dangerous. "God, you are pathetic."

"I'm sick, Dante," I whispered, leaning against the wall for support. "I just wanted water."

"Don't lie to me," he hissed, stepping into my personal space. "You're jealous. You can't stand that Sofia is the real princess and you're just the stray we picked up to balance the books."

"He is my fiancé," I said, though the word tasted like ash in my mouth.

"For now," Dante said, crossing his arms. "You have no shame, do you? You stole Sofia's life for eleven years. You lived in her room. You wore her clothes. You spent the inheritance that should have been hers. And now you begrudge her a little comfort?"

"I earned my place," I countered, my voice gaining a fraction of strength. "I laundered your money. I kept you out of prison."

"You did what you were told!" he barked, causing a nurse down the hall to look up. "You were a placeholder, Elena. We kept you because it looked bad to the Commission to throw an orphan back on the street. But Sofia is back now."

He leaned in close, his breath smelling of stale tobacco and expensive cologne.

"Do the family a favor: break the engagement. Let Sofia have her rightful place. She loves him, and he clearly prefers her. Stop clinging to a man who only keeps you around because you're good at math."

My vision swam. The cruelty wasn't just in his words; it was in the casual way he delivered them, as if my destruction was just another chore on his to-do list.

I didn't answer him. I couldn't. I turned and shuffled back to my room, the wheels of the IV pole squeaking against the linoleum.

I climbed back into the cold bed and stared at the ceiling.

Dante was right about one thing. I was a placeholder. But he was wrong about the rest. I wasn't clinging anymore.

I was letting go.

Three days later, I returned to the Russo estate.

The mansion was silent, a mausoleum built of marble and gold. I walked through the grand hallway, my footsteps echoing against the cold stone. I was still weak, my body struggling to recover from the infection, but I had nowhere else to go. Not yet.

Needing air, I went to the backyard, drawn by the rhythmic sound of splashing water.

The pool was an Olympic-sized monstrosity of turquoise tile, heated to a perfect eighty degrees. It had been built for me when I was twelve, back when the doctor said swimming would help my asthma.

Sofia was there.

She was lounging on a chaise, draped in a white bikini that likely cost more than most people's cars. She saw me and smiled—a sharp, predatory expression that didn't reach her eyes.

"Oh, look who's back," she called out, sipping a bright orange cocktail. "The accountant."

I ignored her, turning on my heel to go back inside.

"Wait!" she shouted, standing up abruptly. She held up a key card. "Luca gave me the key to your office. He said I'm the Lead Accountant now. He slept at my apartment last night, by the way. He said I have nightmares, so he had to stay."

I stopped. I didn't turn around.

"Keep the key, Sofia. You'll need it when the IRS audits the shell companies."

I heard her footsteps slap against the concrete behind me.

"You think you're so smart," she hissed. "But you're just a thief. This pool? It's mine now. Everything here is mine."

I turned to face her. She was standing dangerously close to the edge of the deep end.

"Then enjoy it," I said flatly.

Suddenly, Sofia let out a piercing shriek. She raked her own fingernails down her arm, leaving three angry red welts, and threw herself backward.

She hit the water with a massive splash.

"Help! She tried to kill me!" she screamed, thrashing in the water as if she couldn't swim.

The patio doors burst open instantly. Frank and Maria Russo—my adoptive parents—rushed out, followed by Luca.

"Sofia!" Maria screamed, running to the edge.

"She pushed me!" Sofia wailed, coughing up water. "Elena pushed me!"

Frank Russo didn't ask a question. He didn't even look at me. He charged like a bull.

Before I could speak, before I could raise my hands, Frank’s heavy boot slammed into my chest.

The air left my lungs in a painful whoosh. I flew backward, tumbling into the deep end of the pool.

The water swallowed me. I sank, the cold shock stunning my system. I couldn't swim well—my asthma had never really gone away—and the heavy wool coat I was wearing dragged me down like an anchor.

I thrashed, fighting for the surface. I broke the water, gasping.

"Dad!" I choked out. "I didn't—"

"Liar!" Maria shrieked from the deck. "Look at her arm! You vicious little brat!"

Frank stood by the edge, watching me struggle. "You want to drown my daughter? Then you can see how it feels."

I went under again. My lungs burned. I kicked, fighting the crushing weight of my clothes.

Suddenly, a splash. Strong arms wrapped around my waist. Luca.

He hauled me to the surface and dragged me toward the stairs. I coughed, retching up chlorinated water, clinging to him. For a second, I thought he had saved me because he cared.

He hauled me onto the concrete and immediately released me. My head cracked against the hard tile with a sickening thud.

"Are you insane?" Luca shouted, standing over me, water dripping from his suit. "Look at what you did to her!"

I lay there, gasping, looking up at them. Sofia was wrapped in a towel in Maria's arms, sobbing fake tears. Frank looked at me with pure hatred. And Luca... Luca looked disgusted.

"I didn't touch her," I whispered, my voice broken.

"Stop lying!" Luca roared. "You are incorrigible, Elena. Always causing drama. Always hurting her because you're jealous."

He walked over to Sofia and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close.

"Touch her again, Elena," Luca said, his voice dropping to a lethal calm. "Touch her again, and I will forget who you are. I will forget the last eleven years."

He turned his back on me.

"Come on, Sofia. Let's get you inside."

They walked away, leaving me coughing up water on the cold concrete, shivering as the sun began to set.

Twenty minutes later, I dragged myself into the living room, leaving a glistening trail of water on the Persian rugs. My jaw ached from the violence of my chattering teeth; I thought they might crack.

The family was gathered by the fireplace, bathed in warmth. They were laughing. Sofia cradled a mug of hot cocoa, looking perfectly pristine.

When I entered, the laughter died.

"My ring!" Sofia gasped, clutching her chest the moment she saw me. "My diamond ring! It's gone!"

She looked at me, her eyes widening in mock horror. "It must have fallen off in the pool when she pushed me!"

Frank Russo stood up, his face darkening to a dangerous shade of purple. "That ring is a family heirloom. It’s worth fifty grand."

"I didn't push her," I said, my voice reduced to a hoarse croak. "And I don't have the ring."

"You threw it in there, didn't you?" Maria accused, stepping forward. "You spiteful little thief."

"I didn't!"

"Go get it," Frank ordered.

I looked at him, trembling uncontrollably. "I’m hypothermic, Frank," I managed, my lips numb and blue. "I can't go back in there."

"I said get it!"

Frank grabbed me by my wet hair and dragged me toward the patio doors. I screamed, clawing at his hand, but he was too strong.

He threw me out the door. I stumbled and fell hard onto the cold patio stones.

"Find the ring, Elena. Or don't come back inside."

I looked through the glass doors. I looked at Luca. He was standing by the fireplace, watching. He could stop this. He was the Underboss. One word from him, and Frank would back down.

Luca walked to the glass door. With a fluid motion, he opened it and stepped out into the cold.

I looked up at him, hope flaring in my chest. "Please, Luca."

He reached down. When he straightened, in his hand was a diving mask.

"You owe her this, Elena," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "If you find it quickly, you can come in and warm up."

He dropped the mask on the ground next to me.

I stared at the mask, then at him. The man I had loved for a decade. The man I had planned to marry.

He wasn't saving me. He was handing me the tool for my own torture.

Frank shoved me toward the water. "Get in!"

I put the mask on. I slid into the freezing water.

For five hours, I dove.

The pool lights were off. It was pitch black underwater. I had to feel the bottom with my numb fingers, inch by inch. Every time I surfaced for air, I saw them sitting on the heated patio, drinking wine, watching me.

Once, when I stayed on the surface too long to catch my breath, Dante poked me with the pool skimmer, pushing my head back under.

"Dive, rat," he laughed.

Somewhere around the third hour, my body stopped shivering. That was bad. That meant my core temperature was dropping dangerously low. My movements became sluggish, as if I was moving through gelatin.

I found it near the drain in the deep end. The glint of gold.

I grabbed it. I kicked to the surface, my lungs screaming. I swam to the edge and tossed the ring onto the concrete.

"Found it," I whispered.

Sofia squealed and ran over, snatching the ring. "Oh, thank God! It was my only comfort when I was kidnapped!"

She didn't look at me. She put the ring on and sauntered back to the warmth of the house.

Frank and Maria followed her.

I tried to pull myself out of the pool, but my arms wouldn't work. I had no strength left. I hooked my chin over the edge of the pool to keep from drowning.

Luca walked over. He looked down at me, his face unreadable in the shadows.

He didn't offer me a hand.

"Behave yourself from now on, Elena," he said quietly.

Then he turned and walked inside, locking the sliding glass door behind him.

I hung there in the water, alone in the dark, and felt the final thread connecting me to him snap. It didn't hurt. It was just... silence.