Tiffany put a hand to her chest. A perfect picture of shock.

"Oh, Julian, I'm sure Seraphina was just joking." Her voice trembled, but her eyes were sizing me up. "Right, darling?"

She took a step closer, a perfect socialite smile plastered on her face.

"I've actually been wanting to meet you. Julian said you have a lot of… personality."

Personality.

Another one of those condescending words.

"But—" Tiffany paused, her gaze sweeping over my entire outfit. "I think we could be great friends."

She unclasped a diamond bracelet from her own wrist.

"Here. A little gift." She held it out. "It's Tiffany & Co. Limited edition. Much more appropriate for the setting, don't you think?"

Appropriate for the setting?

I glanced down at my black silk gown. The cut was perfect.

But she wasn't looking at my dress.

Her eyes were locked on the simple silver chain around my wrist.

"I just think you might need something... a little more sparkly," Tiffany's smile grew sweeter. "This is the opera, after all. Everyone dresses up."

More sparkly.

She was saying I looked cheap.

"She has a point," Julian added, his eyes narrowing. "That piece of junk is beneath you."

Junk?

My blood ran cold.

What did he just say?

My breath caught. That "junk" was forged from a bullet casing. The first life Dante ever took to protect his family—to protect me. Engraved on the inside were two words: Mio Angelo.

My Angel.

"Just take her gift," Julian said, reaching for my wrist. "This cheap trinket doesn't belong on you."

"Don't touch it." I stepped back.

"Sera, stop being so stubborn." His tone was impatient. "I know money is tight for you right now, but that's no excuse. You can't wear trash like this to a formal event."

Trash?

"Here, let me help you."

He reached out again, grabbing my wrist.

"Let go of me!"

"It'll just take a second." Julian yanked hard at the silver bracelet. "You'll like the diamonds, trust me."

"I said, let go!"

The clasp snapped.

It fell to the marble floor with a faint clink.

He didn't even look down. He just stepped on it.

A sharp crack echoed on the marble floor. A sound that broke something deep inside me.

The entire hallway went still.

I knelt and picked up the mangled bracelet.

The clasp was broken, the chain twisted. The Italian words were now a blur.

"Look at you, getting all worked up," Julian said, dismissing it. "It's just a cheap bracelet. I'll buy you something better."

I slowly stood up.

Julian was adjusting his cufflinks, completely oblivious to the murder in my eyes.

"Speaking of which," he said, his eyes flashing with a sudden, ugly jealousy. "Who's the poor bastard who gave you this trash? Your new boyfriend?"

New boyfriend.

"Don't tell me you downgraded to one of your father's bodyguards," Julian sneered. "Sera, when did your standards drop so low?"

Little bodyguard.

"Or—" his voice turned venomous. "Have you really fallen that far?"

Tiffany was beside him, pretending to be concerned. "Julian, don't say that..."

He leaned in, his voice a low, venomous growl. "So tell me, Seraphina. Who is the fucking nobody who gave you this piece of trash?"

I clutched the mangled bracelet in my fist.

I looked him dead in the eye. "My husband gave it to me."

My. Husband.

Those two words made Julian's face turn to stone.

"Your… husband?" he repeated, like he couldn't process the word.

"That's right."

Julian staggered back a step, his eyes wide with disbelief.

"You… you're with another man? You got married?"

"Is that so strange?"

"Of course it's strange!" Julian exploded, his voice echoing down the hall. "Two years! It's only been two years! How could you move on so fast—"

He stopped, taking a deep breath.

"Wait." Julian pulled out his phone. "Marcus," he barked into his phone. "Run a name for me. Angelo. An Italian. Find out who the hell he is."

He stepped away to make the call, his voice low.

A few minutes later, Julian hung up, his face even darker.

"Angelo?" He strode back, his eyes burning with rage. "Your new man's name is Angelo?"

I didn't correct him.

"A damn Italian bodyguard!" Julian spat. "You left me for a fucking bodyguard?"

Bodyguard.

If only he knew.

"Can he buy you diamonds?" Julian pointed at the broken bracelet in my hand. "Can he give you a Manhattan penthouse? Can he give you the life you deserve?"

"He gives me more than that."

"More?" Julian sneered. "What can some hired muscle give you? A cheap bracelet? A used car? A shitty little apartment in the suburbs?"

He was getting more and more agitated, spit flying from his mouth.

"Do you really think a man like that would marry you?" Julian's voice grew shrill. "He's just using you! When he gets tired of you, where will you go?"

"Julian, that's enough," Tiffany whispered, though her eyes were alight with excitement.

"It's not enough!" Julian whirled on her. "Do you see what she's doing? She's degrading herself!"

He turned back to me, roaring.

"I offered you the best life, the best future, and you chose a goddamn bodyguard!"

"Yes," I said calmly. "I chose him."

"Why?!" Julian screamed. "Why would you choose some lowlife—"

"Because he's twice the man you'll ever be."

The words hit him like a physical blow.

His face twisted into an ugly mask.

"You… you slept with him?"

I nodded.

"Of course. I told you, he's my husband."

Julian swayed on his feet, as if I'd punched him in the gut.

"How could you…" his voice trembled. "How could you let some low-class animal touch you?"

"Watch your mouth."

"I'll kill him!" Julian suddenly roared, his eyes bloodshot. "I'm going to find this Angelo, and I'm going to kill him with my own hands!"

"And then what?"

"Then?" Julian gasped for air. "Then I'll make you understand what a huge mistake you've made!"

He began pacing the hall like a caged animal.

"But for now—" he stopped, his eyes turning to ice. "Now, things have changed."

"What do you mean?"

"That Manhattan penthouse? Gone," Julian sneered. "You don't deserve it anymore."

"I never needed it."

"But I have another place for you. A quiet house outside the city." His voice dripped with malice. "No one will ever find you there."

A quiet house?

"Of course, to avoid any unnecessary trouble—" Julian straightened his tie. "You'll need to use the back entrance. You can't be seen. Understand?"

The back entrance.

He wanted me to sneak in through the back door.

Like a dirty secret.

He didn't even look at me. "My driver will pick you up next week." He turned to leave. "And, Sera? Use the back door. Remember your place."

Julian’s POV

One week later.

Three black Rolls-Royces pulled up outside the Venti family villa.

Julian stared out the window of the Rolls-Royce, his jaw tight. Anger, jealousy, humiliation—it was a bitter cocktail churning in his gut.

"Sir, shall we proceed?" the driver asked.

Julian nodded.

The cars rolled slowly toward the main entrance of the estate.

Seraphina's father—old man Venti—was waiting on the steps.

The old man's face was a mask of stone.

Julian got out of the car, straightening his suit.

"Mr. Venti. I'm here for Sera."

The old man didn't respond.

"We had an arrangement," Julian said, walking up the steps. "Where is she?"

"She's not here."

"What do you mean, not here?" Julian frowned. "We agreed on today—"

"She's back where she belongs," the old man cut him off.

"Where she belongs?" Julian was getting more confused. "What place is that?"

"Chicago."

Julian felt a wave of dizziness.

"What… what is she doing in Chicago?"

The old man's voice was as cold as iron. "She went back to her husband."

"Impossible!" Julian roared. "She wouldn't leave me. She loves me!"

Old man Venti let out a short, harsh laugh.

"Loves you?" he repeated, as if it were the funniest joke in the world. "Young man, do you have any idea what you're talking about?"

"Of course I do!" Julian's eyes were red. "We grew up together! I know her!"

"Know her?" The old man's smile turned mocking. "Do you know who she is now?"

Who she is?

"What are you talking about? She's your daughter."

The old man was silent for a moment, then slowly shook his head.

"Astor," the old man said, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper. "Do you want your entire family shipped back to the East Coast in matching coffins?"

In coffins?

The words sent a chill down Julian's spine.

"What are you saying?"

"You think she's the same naive little girl from two years ago?" The old man's eyes became dangerous. "You think she'd wait around for your handouts?"

"They weren't handouts! I came to give her the best life!"

"The best life?" Old man Venti roared with laughter. "A quiet house where she has to use the back door?"

The color drained from Julian's face.

How did he know?

"Young man, do you really think my daughter is hurting for your pathetic charity?"

"What does she have without me?" Julian shot back. "A cheap bracelet from some Italian muscle?"

The old man's laughter died.

His gaze turned lethal.

"Muscle?"

"Yes! That Angelo!" Julian was getting worked up. "I know she found a new man! But so what? What can some hired muscle give her?"

Old man Venti just stared at him, as if looking at a dead man.

"You want to see her?"

"Of course I do!"

"Then go get her. She's on the top floor. Of the Moretti Tower."

Moretti Tower?

The name filled Julian with a sense of dread he couldn't place.

"What… what tower?"

"The biggest one in Chicago."

Julian stood on the steps, his mind a total mess.

Moretti... he'd heard that name somewhere before.

Half an hour later, at the main Astor residence.

Julian burst into his father's study.

"Father! I need you to do something for me!"

His father looked up from his desk. Annoyance flickered in his eyes.

"What is it?"

"The Moretti Tower!" Julian was out of breath. "I need to know what that place is! Sera is there! I have to go get her!"

The pen in old Mr. Astor's hand fell to the desk.

Julian's father stared at him, the blood draining from his face.

He looked at his son as if he were already a ghost.

"Moretti?" he whispered, the name tasting like ash in his mouth.

"Dante Moretti? Are you out of your goddamn mind? He's not a man, he's a fucking monster. And you went after his wife?"