Rosalia opened her eyes with a sharp gasp, her lungs burning as she breathed heavily, struggling to decipher where she was.

The rhythmic, steady beeping of medical equipment echoing off the walls confirmed she was in a hospital room. She was alone. Frowning, she looked down at the cannula inserted into her wrist, feeding a clear fluid from a hanging IV pouch into her veins. Her entire left shoulder felt terribly sore, and when she shifted her gaze down, she saw thick layers of white bandages wrapped tightly around her chest.

Memories of that chaotic night at the mansion flooded back—the screaming, the shattered vase, pushing Giovanni out of the...