SOFIA’S POV

The cathedral smelled of incense, old stone, and my own fear.

I stood at the altar in a heavy white wedding gown that cost more than most people’s houses, the long veil covering my face like a shroud. My wrists were already bound to Matteo Rossi’s with a thick black silk ribbon, our fresh cuts pressed together so our blood could mingle — the sacred Blood Vow of the Rossi family. One drop of my blood mixed with his, and I belonged to him forever.

I was twenty. A virgin. Handed over like a piece of meat to settle my father’s gambling debt.

And the man who now...