Chapter 2

Salvatore found me curled into the corner of the alley. His brows tightened with visible anguish as he shrugged off his coat and draped it over me with a care that felt rehearsed.

"I'm sorry, Adriana… I shouldn't have sent for you at this hour. This is my fault." His voice trembled with guilt. "Believe me, time will ease everything. The men will forget what they saw eventually. Until then, I'll stay by your side—always."

On the drive back to the estate, he held my hand firmly, refusing to let go.

After a long silence, certain I had fallen asleep, Enzo—hands steady on the wheel—let out a heavy sigh.

"Boss," he said, his voice laced with frustration, "let someone else carry this kind of thing next time. I can't stomach it. Didn't you see how those animals looked at her? If you'd sent me two minutes later… they'd have stripped her right there in the street, in front of everyone."

Enzo's next words hit me like thunder.

"Her father was just cleared. His name was finally coming back to him, his blood finally catching a breath after all these years. And because of one sentence out of the Marchetti girl's mouth, all of it came apart. And you, the man closest to her, are still sitting here working out how to keep her down? Do you mean to destroy her completely?"

My heart froze.

The drunks outside the hotel… they were Salvatore's men.

I bit down hard on my tongue, tasting blood, forcing myself to stay silent.

Salvatore eased me gently to the side. Then he lunged and closed his hand around Enzo's throat, his voice dropping low and hoarse with rage.

"You've eaten at the Vitale table long enough, haven't you? And now you want to open your mouth about this? If Adriana hears one word of it… your wife and your children answer for it. You think any of this is yours to decide?"

There was the sound of choking, of a man fighting for air. The car swerved hard across the road.

Just when it felt like we would go into the guardrail, he finally let go.

Enzo coughed violently, gasping apologies into the silence. His fingers found the brim of the flat cap on the seat beside him and worked it round and round.

Salvatore pulled me close again, his arms tightening around me. He pressed a kiss to my forehead and murmured, as if only to himself:

"Just hold on a little longer, Adriana… even if it's only for me. I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you."

But this wasn't love. It was cruelty dressed in concern. And I couldn't take it anymore.

That night, when his breathing finally slowed into sleep, I slipped into the study. My hands trembled as I wrote to my aunt, Vivian Ferraro, a woman with quiet ties to the Chicago Outfit and a reputation men lowered their voices to speak of.

Sealing the envelope, I felt—for the first time in longer than I could remember—a thread of hope.

I couldn't stay in this hell any longer.

The next morning, I had barely opened my eyes when I heard Salvatore speaking to Enzo just beyond the bedroom door.

"There's the opening at the school our Family sponsors today. When she wakes, find a way to get her to come."

"But Boss… she can't so much as walk to the market without every man on the block staring. A gathering like that, all those people…"

"Think about your wife and your kids," Salvatore said, cold and even.

Enzo went silent.

A moment later the bedroom door eased open. A familiar hand smoothed gently over my hair.

"Adriana," Salvatore said softly, "the ceremony's today. Our name carries a lot of those children—I have to show my face. There'll be a crowd. You don't need to come. Rest."

I forced a smile. "Alright."

Once he'd gone, Enzo lingered, watching me eat with something restless in his eyes. At last he spoke, hesitating, the cap turning slow in his hands.

"My boy said, when you filled in at his school, the children took to you. Today's the opening… I think they'd be glad to see you again."

I looked up, my eyes calm. "I'll go. Bring the car around."

But the moment I stepped into the hall, I caught Bianca Marchetti's smirk waiting in the crowd.

And I understood—

Salvatore had never meant to protect me.

He meant to see me shamed all over again.