The rain fell in heavy sheets, soaking the marble steps of the Valenti estate. Elena stood beneath the black awning, her arms folded tightly around herself, watching as the last of the guests slipped into their black cars and disappeared into the night.

Inside, the aftertaste of violence still lingered. Broken glasses. A bloodstain near the fireplace. Whispers of betrayal.

Cristiano hadn’t spoken to her since the confrontation with his uncle. His eyes, once burning with desire, had turned cold, calculating. She wasn’t sure if it was the crown weighing heavy on his head or the truth she’d thrown in his face.

“Elena,” a voice murmured behind her. Matteo.

She...