Chapter 1 - The Blood on the Gold
The morning sun cut through the dusty panes of the upper-floor window above Bellini Jewel Restoration, casting long, fractured shadows across my father’s old oak workbench. My eyes were burning from lack of sleep, my throat raw from the tears I had finally allowed myself to shed in the dark hours before dawn. Yet, when Maso Greco and Leah Ferraro stepped uninvited into my sanctuary, I had already washed my face, tied my hair back into a functional knot, and pushed the heartbreak deep down beneath a layer of cold, defensive armor.
When Maso placed that small, tarnished object onto the scarred wood of my workbench, the room seemed to lose all its remaining oxygen.
It was my wedding ring.
The heavy gold band I had slipped into Camila Marino’s palm just twelve hours ago. But it wasn't the same ring anymore. The pristine, polished gold was warped, as if caught in a violent struggle, and slashed across its center was a dark, unmistakable smear of dried crimson. Blood.
"What is this?" My voice came out lower and sharper than I intended, the adrenaline spiking through my veins with the force of an electric shock.
Maso stood rigidly by the door, his massive frame blocking the only exit, his dark suit rumpled as though he hadn't slept either. His usual stoic expression was replaced by a grim, tense shadow.
"Camila didn't leave the mansion with Alessandro last night," Maso said, his voice grave. "After you walked out, the party dissolved into chaos. Ruggero tried to smooth things over, but Alessandro... Alessandro shattered a crystal tumbler in his bare hand when he realized what you'd done. He threw Camila out of the formal dining room within ten minutes. She was terrified. She ran out into the storm."
"And the ring?" I demanded, leaning over the bench, my fingers hovering millimeters away from the stained metal. I didn't dare touch it yet. "How did it get blood on it, Maso?"
Leah stepped forward, her professional clinical gaze scanning my face for signs of shock. "Maso found her this morning in an alley three blocks from the estate, Adriana. She was beaten. Badly. Someone intercepted her after she left the house. The ring was clutched so tightly in her fist that the paramedics had to pry her fingers open to treat her."
A cold sweat broke out across the back of my neck. I looked from Leah to Maso, my mind racing through the terrifying implications. "Who did it? Was it Alessandro?"
"No," Maso replied instantly, though a flicker of doubt crossed his eyes. "Boss... Boss is furious, but this wasn't his style. Alessandro breaks things with a hammer when he's angry; he doesn't ambush frightened girls in back alleys. This was a message. A very specific, ugly message sent to both you and Alessandro."
I stared down at the ruined gold band. For two years, I had believed I understood the violent ecosystem of my husband's empire. I thought I knew every ruthless player, every hidden debt, every bloody secret. But placing my ring in Camila’s hand hadn't just humiliated Alessandro in front of his inner circle—it had inadvertently painted a target on an innocent girl's back, dragging her into a war she never signed up for.
"Where is she now?" I asked, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.
"St. Jude’s Memorial," Leah answered, adjusting her medical bag strap. "Trauma ICU. She’s stable, but she’s not talking. She’s locked in a state of acute dissociative shock. She won't speak to the police, and she sure as hell won't talk to Alessandro's goons."
May you like
I reached out, my fingers finally closing around the blood-stained gold. The metal was icy cold against my skin. The old Adriana—the compliant, quiet trophy wife who smiled at dinner parties while playing the fool—died the moment I walked out that door. The woman holding this ring was something else entirely. A restorer of broken things. And right now, someone had broken a human life to spite me.
"Get your car, Maso," I said, sliding the ring into my pocket and reaching for my heavy wool coat. "We're going to the hospital."
