My best friend, Ava, handed me a glass of ice water and slumped into the chair beside me with a sigh. "I can't believe this, Juliet," she seethed. "He's throwing away eight years of your loyalty for a three-day performance."

I said nothing, my eyes fixed on the center of the ballroom.

Ronan was placing the family ring on Bianca's finger. She angled her hand, admiring the ring with a triumphant smirk as he smiled and nodded—never once glancing in my direction.

My fingers found the small, crushed-velvet box in my pocket. It felt misshapen, ruined.

Useless now.

The lazy jazz music swelled through the gala.

Ava tugged at my hand. "Come on, let's get some air on the terrace. Don't torture yourself watching them."

She pulled me to my feet, but we’d barely taken two steps before Bianca appeared, still clinging to Ronan's arm.

"Juliet, are you still here?" Her smile was pure poison. "Ronan was just about to teach me some private 'family rules.' He says it's far too crowded to discuss them here."

Ronan didn't look at me, his attention solely on Bianca. "It’s too loud in here. Let's find somewhere quieter."

A moment later, Bianca cried out and stumbled into his arms. "Ah! My ankle—it hurts so much!"

He was instantly on one knee, cradling her foot as if it were a Michelangelo sculpture. His fingers stroked her ankle. "Does it hurt badly? I'll have the doctor come over."

"No need," Bianca cooed, grabbing his hand and leaning in close. "As long as you're here, it doesn't hurt at all."

Watching them, the last ember of hope inside me finally died.

Then Ronan finally turned to me, his expression dismissive. "Juliet, go to the cellar and get a bottle of Dom Pérignon Rosé. Bianca's thirsty."

"Are your own legs broken?" I asked, my voice flat and my expression unmoving.

"Her ankle is injured. She can't walk," he said, his brow furrowing with impatience. His tone was that of a Don accustomed to absolute obedience. "This is an order, Juliet. Do as you're told."

I met his glare, my voice dangerously low. "Her ankle is not my concern. Tell me, Ronan, are you her servant, or are you my man?"

The music seemed to screech to a halt. Every head in the vicinity turned, their eyes darting between us.

The color drained from Bianca's face. She tugged at his sleeve, tears already shining in her eyes. "Juliet, I didn't mean to trouble you. I can get it myself…" She made a weak attempt to stand, looking as if she might faint.

"Stay seated!" Ronan commanded, pushing her gently back down. He then snarled at me, drawing out my name with menace, "Jul-iet. You've gone too far. She's injured."

"I've gone too far?" A bitter laugh escaped my lips, tears blurring my vision. "For eight years, I have put my life on the line for you. What the hell am I to you?"

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

Bianca held him tighter. "Let's just go sit over there, Ronan…"

He turned without a backward glance, helping her limp away as if she were a priceless, fragile treasure.

The glittering lights of the ballroom blurred, but all I felt was a bone-deep cold.

A deafening crash ripped through the ballroom.

The glass curtain wall imploded, showering the room in sparks and shards, followed by a violent explosion. Flames erupted, and thick, acrid smoke billowed toward us, the air choking with the smell of burning silk and blood.

Chaos erupted as guests screamed and scattered. Someone slammed into me from behind, and the shockwave knocked me off my feet. A splintered table leg pierced my thigh, the pain searing through me.

I struggled to rise, but a fleeing guest trampled me, their heel digging into my back. The pressure on my lungs made me gag, the coppery taste of blood filling my mouth.

"Ronan! Save me!" I rasped.

Through the swirling smoke, I saw him, just a few meters away, holding Bianca protectively.

He looked at me for a split second, a flicker of hesitation in his eyes.

Then Bianca buried her face in his chest, shrieking, "The fire is too big! I'm so scared! We'll die if we don't leave!"

The hesitation vanished. He scooped her into his arms, wrapped his suit jacket around her, and sprinted for the exit.

As he passed, I desperately reached out, my fingers brushing against his pant leg.

He kicked my hand away.

The hard leather of his custom-made shoe smashed against the back of my bleeding hand. A scream tore from my throat as my vision swam with tears.

"You're strong enough to handle this!" His voice was glacial. "Bianca is a guest. I can't let anything happen to her. You've always been the strong one."

Strong. The word cut deeper than any blade.

The flames roared higher. The massive chandelier overhead groaned and crashed to the floor. A stray spark landed on my dress, and the fabric ignited.

The family's Soldati scrambled past, dragging their own loved ones to safety. I was left behind like a piece of trash, broken and forgotten.

"Juliet! Juliet!" Ava's frantic voice cut through the chaos.

She knelt beside me, her eyes falling to my leg, and her face contorted in fury. "That bastard! That absolute bastard Ronan!"

The family's Consigliere, Finn, appeared at my side. He shrugged off his suit jacket, smothering the flames on my dress before hooking an arm under mine and hauling me to my feet. I glanced toward the end of the hall—it was empty. Ronan was long gone.

At the exit, Finn barked orders, his men clearing a path. No wasted words, just decisive action. He wrapped an ice pack in a clean napkin and pressed it gently against my burned hand.

"A cold compress for now. The doctor is on his way." His hands were steady, his touch firm but gentle. The simple warmth radiating from his hand was more real than anything Ronan had offered me in eight years.

As Finn's men helped me into a car, I saw Ronan's bulletproof sedan pulling away. Bianca was in the passenger seat, nursing a trivial scratch on her arm. She leaned against him, whispering, "Thank God you were there. I would have been so terrified without you."

He stroked her hair. "Don't worry. As long as I'm with you, no one can hurt you."

Their car sped past ours. He never rolled down the window, never even glanced in our direction.

I closed my eyes. Eight years of devotion, reduced to ash in the roar of an explosion.