Chapter 4

The men around Bianca were quick to join in.

"Bianca is the woman of this house."

"Who do you think you are, walking in here and claiming another woman's man?"

"You've lied about being his wife. You've got that old woman pretending to be his mother. How shameless can you get?"

Another man gave a cruel laugh.

"Bianca, people like this only understand one thing. You have to teach them their place."

Bianca lifted her chin, pleased by their support.

Then her gaze fell on the plate of braised fish.

Slowly, she picked it up.

The fish was still cold enough that tiny crystals of ice clung to the flesh.

Bianca tipped the entire plate onto the marble floor.

The food landed with a wet slap.

Then she stepped on it.

Once.

Twice.

Grinding the fish beneath the heel of her shoe, she looked down at me.

"So this is what all that noise was about?"

She held Rosa's medicine between two fingers.

"You caused a scene over this fish, lied about who you were, and now you're begging me for medicine."

Her lips curved.

"Fine."

She pointed toward the mess beneath her shoe.

"Kneel."

I stared at her.

"Eat it."

The room went quiet.

Bianca shook the medicine bottle.

"Finish the fish, and I'll give you the pills."

I looked at Rosa.

She was curled on the floor, one hand pressed desperately against her chest. Her face had turned gray, and every breath seemed harder than the last.

When she realized what Bianca was demanding, Rosa weakly shook her head.

"No..."

Her voice was barely audible.

"Francesca... don't."

My throat tightened.

Even now, she was thinking about me.

Rosa had always been that way.

She had never once treated me like the daughter-in-law who had married above or below her station. From the day Salvatore and I married, she'd treated me like the daughter she'd never had.

Whenever Salvatore and I argued, Rosa took my side more often than his.

"Treat your wife properly," she'd warn him. "If you ever betray that girl, don't come calling me Mamma."

After her health improved, we'd begged her to remain in the city.

She refused.

She said the city was too loud, the Moretti house too large, and there were too many men hovering around waiting to do everything for her.

So she'd gone back to her village.

Every time she visited, she arrived carrying homemade bread, jars of preserves, dried herbs, and whatever else she'd convinced herself I couldn't possibly find in the city.

She had given me nothing expensive.

But she'd given me more kindness than most people in my life ever had.

And now she was dying in front of me.

I looked at the medicine in Bianca's hand.

Then I dropped to my knees.

"Francesca..."

Rosa tried to reach for me.

I bent down.

The smell of sauce, dirt, and polished marble turned my stomach.

I picked up the first piece of fish.

Then I put it into my mouth.

Laughter erupted around me.

"Look at her!"

Bianca laughed the loudest.

"Five minutes ago, she was too good for frozen fish. Now she's eating it off the floor."

One of the men snorted.

"Like a dog."

Another laughed.

"That's why Bianca runs this place. She knows how to deal with trash."

I heard every word.

I swallowed anyway.

One mouthful.

Then another.

My stomach twisted violently, but I kept going.

Nothing mattered except the bottle in Bianca's hand.

By the time I forced down the last piece, my palms were slick against the marble.

I slowly raised my head.

"I did it."

My voice was hoarse.

"Give me her medicine."

Bianca stared down at me.

For a moment, she said nothing.

Then she smiled.

"Did you actually believe me?"

My blood ran cold.

Bianca walked toward the open doors leading to the courtyard.

"No..."

She drew her arm back.

"Bianca, don't!"

She threw the bottle.

It sailed through the doorway, struck the surface of the ornamental pond outside, and disappeared beneath the dark water.

"No!"

I scrambled toward Rosa.

"Mamma!"

Her body suddenly convulsed.

I caught her before her head struck the floor.

"Someone call a doctor!"

No one moved quickly enough.

"Call an ambulance!"

Rosa's eyes struggled to focus on mine.

Her trembling hand rose.

Her fingertips touched my cheek, brushing away tears I hadn't realized were falling.

"Francesca..."

"I'm here."

I held her tighter.

"I'm here, Mamma. Help is coming."

Her lips moved.

"I'm sorry."

My heart seemed to stop.

"No. Don't say that."

Whether she was apologizing for what had happened to me or for the son who had brought Bianca into our lives, I didn't know.

I never got the chance to ask.

Her hand slipped from my face.

"Mamma?"

Her eyes closed.

"Mamma!"

I pressed my fingers against her neck.

I couldn't find a pulse.

"No. No, no, no."

I shook her gently.

"Rosa, wake up."

Nothing.

Someone finally rushed forward and crouched beside us. He checked her pulse, then her breathing.

His face changed.

"Call an ambulance. Now!"

The room erupted.

A guest grabbed his phone. Another hurried toward the entrance. Several people who had been laughing only minutes earlier backed away from Bianca.

Even her own staff looked frightened now.

Bianca frowned.

"Why is everyone panicking?"

The floor manager stared at her.

"Bianca... she isn't breathing."

For the first time, Bianca's expression shifted.

But only for a second.

Then she crossed her arms.

"That's not my problem."

Everyone stared at her.

"She came in here trying to scam me. I didn't make her sick."

The manager went pale.

"But you threw away her medicine."

Bianca's eyes flashed.

"So?"

She looked around the room.

"My man is Salvatore Moretti."

No one answered.

"Do you understand? Salvatore."

Her confidence returned with every word.

"He runs this Family. Who exactly is going to touch me?"

A few of the men exchanged uneasy glances.

Bianca mistook their silence for agreement.

I didn't hear anything after that.

I was staring at Rosa.

At the woman who had survived poverty, widowhood, sickness, and years of sacrifice for her only son.

She had survived all of it.

Only to collapse on the floor of a club that bore his name.

Because of the woman he had brought into our lives.

Something inside me broke.

I gently lowered Rosa to the floor.

Then I stood.

Bianca barely had time to turn before I lunged at her.

My hands closed around her throat.

"You killed her!"

Bianca screamed.

"Get her off me!"

The men reacted instantly.

Someone grabbed my shoulder and ripped me backward.

Another blow struck my side.

I crashed to the floor.

"Don't touch me!"

I tried to get up.

A boot slammed into my ribs and knocked the breath from my lungs.

"Dio, she's insane!"

"Hold her!"

Two men pinned my arms.

They still thought I was an impostor.

A nobody.

A woman who had wandered into the wrong house and dared attack Salvatore Moretti's mistress.

Bianca stumbled backward, coughing, one hand pressed against her throat.

Then she looked at me.

Pure hatred filled her face.

"You put your hands on me?"

I struggled against the men holding me.

Bianca snatched a steak knife from the nearest table.

The floor manager froze.

"Bianca."

She ignored him.

"Bianca, enough."

She came toward me.

"No one touches me and walks away."

She raised the knife.

The first strike tore into my thigh.

Pain exploded through me.

I sucked in a breath, my entire body going rigid.

Blood immediately spread across my dress.

Someone in the crowd screamed.

"Bianca, stop!"

She stood over me, breathing hard.

I looked up at her through the pain.

"You'd better pray Salvatore gets here before I bleed to death."

Bianca's face twisted.

"Are you threatening me?"

"No."

I forced the words through clenched teeth.

"I'm telling you what's going to happen."

My eyes burned into hers.

"When Salvatore walks through that door, you're going to learn exactly whose mother you left dying on this floor."

For the first time, Bianca hesitated.

"And you're going to learn whose blood is on your knife."

The dining room had gone completely silent.

Then hurried footsteps sounded beyond the entrance.

One of the guards near the front doors suddenly straightened.

His face changed.

"The Don is here."