Chapter 2

As the youngest woman ever to take the reins of the Vellano Family, my rule had held steady through the years.

Yet in the running of the Family's business, I had spent so many nights away, sitting down with men in cities that weren't mine, that I knew I'd left my husband and my daughter to the care of others. The guilt had never left me.

This time, with my daughter set upon by men who ambushed her convoy, I couldn't reach her in time, and the guilt was almost suffocating.

And now, seeing this scene inside the Family's own clinic, my anger surged through me like wildfire.

Cold, my expression cut to the bone as I slid the wedding ring from my finger and turned it once between two fingers before I dialed the director.

My tone was ice. "Bellandi. I heard from your nurse that some important arrival took the clinic's whole attention today, that there was no time to see to my daughter's wounds. I want to know what kind of guest makes you throw a Vellano child into the hallway."

Bellandi's voice faltered, betraying a hint of panic. "Donna Vellano, it's all a misunderstanding! There was no important arrival, I swear it! There were only many children brought in today, and the oversight is mine. I'll have the best room prepared for your daughter this instant!"

He rushed on. "Which nurse dared run her mouth? I'll put her out on the street tonight!"

A few minutes after I hung up, my daughter was moved into a private room.

I called Bellandi out into the corridor and let him have it. "What's the matter with you? Have you grown tired of directing this clinic?"

Dabbing his forehead with a handkerchief, he bowed his head and stumbled through the truth. "Donna Vellano, forgive me, it was all Signor Craino's doing. He was the one who ordered the VIP room given over to the other children."

Just then my husband stepped out of the finest private room, the one beside us.

"Cara, why are you back so suddenly?" Vincent's eyes filled with shock and a flicker of something guiltier beneath it.

He forced a smile, crossed to me, and took my hand. "There was a child hurt badly, and I couldn't stand by. I asked the clinic to see to him first. I was just about to have Bellandi assign the best doctor to Sofia."

He was a man who guarded his appearance like a shield, yet several buttons of his white shirt hung open, the fabric creased.

"How very tender of you, thinking first of another man's child." I held him in a mocking stare.

Vincent buttoned his shirt with an idle hand, straightened his tie clip, and gave me an easy smile that came a half-second too late. "Ever since we had a daughter, my sense of a father's duty has only deepened, year by year."

I was about to ask him whose child he'd cast our own aside for, when the phone at his waist rang.

"Ah. It's Ferraro, from the men we partner with. Business. I have to go. Thank you for tending to Sofia, cara."

Ferraro? Wasn't he supposed to be out of the city these past few days, walking the sites of the new territory?

Watching Vincent's retreating back, my eyes darkened.

"Mommy... Mommy, where are you?"

My daughter's pitiful sobs pulled me back to the room.

I hurried inside and saw her wrapped in bandages, her face pale and thin. My heart ached.

Why did she look like a child left to go hungry? Everything she ate, everything she touched, should have been the finest the Family could buy.

"Sofia, lately have you—"

"Signora Craino, you've come back?"

The sound of soft footsteps approached. I turned to see the housekeeper, Rosaria, standing in the doorway with a lunchbox in her hands.

Ignoring the ingratiating smile she wore, I snatched the lunchbox straight out of her grip.

When I opened it, a surge of anger shot through me. The cold box held nothing but a few dry crusts of bread.

"Is this what you feed Sofia? And now, with the child hurt, this is how you care for her?"

A flicker of panic crossed Rosaria's face before she forced the smile back into place, folding the dish towel over her arm into a precise square as she spoke. "Signora Craino, little Sofia asked for it herself, over the phone. She said she wanted to know the taste of dry bread. Isn't that so, Gia Sofia?"

My daughter pressed against my back, both small hands curling into the hem of my coat, and gave a timid nod, plainly frightened of the old woman.

Rosaria's smile widened. "You stay with Gia Sofia. I'll go to the market for what I need and cook at the estate!"

With that she turned and left for the market.

I watched my daughter seize the bread and push it into her mouth as though she hadn't eaten in days. My heart ached. I gave her a sip of water. "Slowly, baby. If you want more, Mommy will have the hotel send it up."

At once Sofia stopped chewing, afraid I'd be angry, and quietly set the bread down. "I'm full... I don't want any more, Mommy."

Her timid, obedient little manner made me pull her tight into my arms.

But then Sofia cried out in pain and pulled her arm back.

I quickly rolled up her sleeve, and the sight of the bruises spread across her arm pierced my eyes with shock.

"Sofia... who bullied you?"