Chapter 3

Stella was completely stunned too.

She stared at me as if she were seeing me for the first time.

I smiled gently.

“Marco, that sounds too serious. They were only making jokes. Why would I take it to heart?”

After hearing that, Marco Falcone did not relax. Instead, his face became even paler.

He probably knew too well that before I acted, I liked best to smile and say I had not taken anything to heart.

Stella finally could not hold back anymore.

She stepped forward and stood in front of Isabella, looking at me with hostility beginning to show in her eyes.

“Alessia, what exactly do you want?”

I lowered my eyes to her.

The way she said “Alessia” was no longer soft. There was a bit of clenched teeth in it now.

Understandable.

On Falcone territory, the Don’s son was this wary of me. To her, that was more humiliating than a few insults in the room.

I asked her, “Are you scared?”

Stella’s face cooled.

“Why would I be scared of you?”

“Because you’re guilty.”

I spoke slowly.

“You took my place for seventeen years. You enjoyed the family protection and money that should have been mine. Now I’m back, and you’re afraid I’ll take everything from you.”

Stella’s eyes reddened at once.

“I didn’t!”

Her voice was loud, as if she had suffered some terrible injustice.

The people around her looked at her with sympathy again.

She had always known how to act.

I only smiled.

“You know whether you did.”

The air pressed tighter and tighter.

At that moment, a staff member announced from outside the ballroom that Luciano had arrived.

Everyone quickly composed themselves and lowered their heads in greeting.

As soon as Luciano entered, he sensed that something was wrong. He glanced at the broken glass scattered across the floor, then at the people locked in a standoff, and frowned slightly.

“What happened?”

No one answered first.

Stella bit her lip and was about to step forward, but Marco spoke ahead of her.

“Nothing. A few ladies lost control of their mouths and had a little argument.”

He said it very quickly, as if afraid one second of delay would invite bigger trouble.

Luciano looked at him, clearly unconvinced.

His gaze swept around the room and finally landed on me.

At that single glance, his expression paused slightly.

As if he thought I looked familiar.

I lowered my eyes and said nothing.

The hall grew quieter and quieter.

Everyone was waiting.

Waiting for Luciano to ask, waiting for Marco to speak, waiting for someone to break the deadlock no one dared touch first.

Then the doors opened again.

This time, no loud, theatrical announcement was needed. The conversation near the entrance died first, then the sound of glasses being set down followed, and the whole ballroom lowered its head.

Don Corrado Falcone and his wife, Donna Beatrice, entered the hall.

Everyone bowed.

I lowered my head as well.

Even with my eyes down, I could still feel several gazes fall on me.

One was Stella’s, full of hate.

One was Marco’s, full of fear.

And one belonged to the Don.

After Don Corrado took the head seat, he did not immediately allow everyone to relax. He only swept his eyes over the room.

“What was the noise?”

One sentence sank the air.

No one dared speak first.

At last, Donna Beatrice said gently, “I thought I heard someone cry out from outside. Did someone forget her manners?”

Her voice was soft, but everyone understood that she was offering those beneath her a way down.

Stella knew better than anyone how to seize that sort of chance.

Her eyes reddened, and she was the first to straighten slightly from the crowd.

“Don Corrado, Donna Beatrice, it was only a misunderstanding between a few of my friends and my sister. If we disturbed you, the fault is mine.”

With one sentence, she made herself half-clean.

She admitted there had been conflict, but reduced it to a misunderstanding.

Following her words, the Don’s gaze landed on me.

“This is the daughter George Scola brought back?”