Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
ROSALIA
FOUR MONTHS LATER…
If there’s one thing I hate more than the suffocating weight of my own skin, it’s a gala thrown by my father.
The ballroom is deafening, a glittering cage of clinking crystal, low laughter, and the heavy scent of expensive cologne and old money. I can already feel the eyes crawling all over me—sharp, speculative, and entirely merciless. It turns my stomach into a tight, sick knot.
My father, Massimo Caruso, claims tonight is a display of absolute strength and unity.
It has been four months since Luciano was butchered in his own bed, and the vacuum left behind threatened to tear our world apart.
So, my father does what he always does: he puts on a lavish show, inviting the very vultures who want to pick our bones clean.
The sentiment behind it makes me want to scream. These past four months have been a relentless, waking nightmare.
I am back under my father’s roof, trapped in a grand estate that feels no different than the prison Luciano kept me in.
Worse, I have been surviving under a constant siege from the DeLorenzo clan.
Luciano’s brother, Dante, has spent every waking second trying to pin the murder on me.
Why wouldn't he? The staff placed me leaving Luciano's room right before the timeline of the murder.
I was the perfect, convenient scapegoat.
It is exhausting trying to prove your innocence to a pack of wolves, especially when your own father refuses to stand by you. To Massimo, I am not a grieving daughter; I am a damaged asset.
A sudden shift near the grand arched entrance catches my attention, and I look toward the doors just as my sisters glide into the ballroom, trailed by their husbands.
Thank God. A genuine breath of air finally reaches my lungs.
"Rosy!" The soft, eager voice of Daniela, my youngest sister, cuts through the ambient noise, and a delicate hand hooks into my elbow.
She looks radiant, her gown flowing around her like liquid gold, her youthful face untouched by the cynicism that has thoroughly rotted mine.
"Ellie, Si, and Cami are here," she whispers excitedly, nodding toward the entrance.
"I can see them, Dani," I reply, the tight line of my mouth finally softening into a real smile.
My sisters are the only pure joy I have left in this dark world.
Just like he did with me, our father traded three of them away like livestock to secure his empire.
But unlike me, fortune favored them. They found good, powerful men who genuinely cherish them—men who built a protective wall around my sisters and refused to let Massimo bully or manipulate them ever again.
Seeing them safe, seeing them loved and truly free, is the only thing that keeps my own heart beating.
The men give us respectful nods before heading toward the private bar to talk strategy, giving us Caruso daughters our space. The moment they are out of earshot, Eleonora, Sienna, and Camilla rush over to join Daniela and me.
We cluster together, letting out quiet, muffled squeals of absolute relief as we throw our arms around one another, burying ourselves in a warm, familiar embrace that temporarily shuts out the wolves circling the room.
The embrace breaks, but we stay close, a tight huddle of silk and diamonds in the center of the crowded floor.
After we finish exchanging frantic, breathless pleasantries, the warmth drains from Sienna’s face. Her brow furrows, her sharp eyes darting over my shoulder toward the raised dais where our father stands with some associates.
"Is this really the right time to be throwing a massive gala?" Sienna whispers, her voice dropping to a sharp, suspicious undertone. "I don't trust this, Rosy. I suspect Father. I think the man is up to something."
A chill ripples down my spine because I know she's right.
Massimo never does anything out of the goodness of his heart.
But looking around at my sisters, I see the genuine worry etched into their features.
I don't want to breed more fear between us. They have finally built safe, peaceful lives away from our father’s shadow, and I refuse to drag them back into my nightmare.
I force a soft, dismissive laugh and wave my hand, acting as if the weight of the world isn't crushing my shoulders.
"He’s been stewing in his study for weeks over the DeLorenzo fallout," I say smoothly, injecting a casual boredom into my tone. "He probably just wants to show off and cool his heels."
My sisters all let out a collective, synchronized scoff. None of them buy it for a second—they know Massimo too well—but they let me have the lie.
Before Sienna can dig any deeper, I quickly steer the conversation back to safer, happier ground.
"Anyway, look at you all," I breathe, stepping back to take them in, desperate for a distraction. "Camilla, that emerald green is absolutely stunning on you. "
"Ellie custom-ordered it for me," Camilla beams, smoothing down the satin fabric.
"And your hair, Ellie!" Daniela chimes in, reaching out to gently touch the intricate, pearl-woven updo. "You look like royalty."
"Don't start," Eleonora laughs, though a beautiful flush stains her cheeks. "It took three hours, and my scalp is practically screaming."
For a few beautiful, fleeting minutes, the heavy armor I've been wearing for four months falls away. We laugh, gossiping, completely forgetting the wolves waiting for the music to stop.
A sharp lull cuts through the room, and my eyes instinctively dart toward the grand mahogany doors. The moment they swing open and Dante DeLorenzo steps through, flanked by two of his brothers, the air leaves my lungs in a painful rush.
He wears his usual hostile scowl, his dark eyes cutting through the crowd as he steps arrogantly into the ballroom.
Beside me, Daniela lets out a sharp, horrified gasp. "I can't believe he's here. Why is he here?"
Elenora's jaw tightens, her hand flying to her waist as she glares across the floor. "I can't believe Dad invited him! After every disgusting thing he has accused Rosy of over the last four months."
I force my posture to remain perfectly straight, swallowing the bile rising in my throat. I look at my protective sisters and offer a tight, reassuring smile. "Father explicitly told me he wasn’t going to invite him. Maybe he just showed up on his own accord."
Sienna scoffs, rolling her eyes with a bitter, knowing look. "Rosy, please. Even you don't believe that lie. Father doesn't get blindsided at his own gate."
I feel pressure mounting from every side. The atmosphere turns suffocatingly tense. My sisters stay glued to my flanks, a fierce wall of silent solidarity, and I keep my head held high. I refuse to let the mask slip, and I absolutely refuse to appear weak in front of the DeLorenzos.
Dante doesn't cause a scene. He is smart enough not to launch a public accusation that would start an all-out turf war right here, on the Caruso estate. But the icy glares he shoots across the ballroom, his rigid posture, and the deliberate way he whispers to the others make it loud and clear.
To them, I am a black widow. They still believe I butchered Luciano, and they are just waiting for the right moment to strike back.
The walls feel like they are closing in, squeezing the remaining oxygen right out of my lungs. I’ve been suffocating in this ballroom for two straight hours, maintaining a flawless facade while the vultures circle. I need to breathe. I need fresh air before the mask shatters.
Turning to my sisters, I keep my voice steady. "I need to step out for a minute and catch my breath."
Instantly, all four of them move as one, offering to come with me, but I hold up a hand and offer a gentle, pleading smile. "No, please. I just need a moment alone."
They exchange worried glances, clearly not believing that I’m fine, but they love me enough to respect the boundaries I desperately need right now. They let me go.
I make a straight line for the side exit, my heels clicking softly against the marble. I am almost to the doors when I pass a small cluster of mafia wives sipping champagne. As I walk past, their voices drop to a venomous murmur, but the words cut through the ambient noise with absolute precision.
"Barren."
"...no DeLorenzo heir to show for it."
My stomach drops, a familiar, humiliating heat rushing up my neck. I don't need to guess who they are talking about.
It’s me.
Everyone in our world knows the humiliating truth. I am completely trapped by Luciano’s will. Because we never had a child—specifically not the male heir he desperately craved—the DeLorenzo clan has launched a full-scale legal and underworld challenge against my claims.
Luciano engineered his estate with ruthless foresight, adding hidden terms that would leave me with absolutely nothing unless I gave him a son.
Because of those clauses, every single one of his accounts and properties is frozen tight, and the other women in the syndicate are using it as ammunition to laugh at my downfall behind closed doors.
But the worst part isn't their gossip; it's the bitter self-hatred that consumes me. Without Luciano’s inheritance, I have zero financial independence, I am stripped of the leverage I need to survive. Instead of being free, I have been forced right back under my father’s thumb, begging for his protection like a caged bird.
Unable to take another second of the suffocating air, I push through the heavy glass doors and finally step out of the ballroom, leaving the whispers behind.
The cold night air hits my face, but it isn’t enough.
Groups of guests are clustered near the main terrace smoking and gossiping, so I don’t stop walking.
I wrap my arms around my chest and keep moving down the stone path until I reach the deep, shadow-drenched corner at the very back of the estate.
Finally, I stop, letting out a long, shuddering breath.
But I am not alone.