Chapter 2
The men dragged me out of the penthouse by my elbows.
My gown trailed behind me, champagne-stained, torn at the hem from catching on the doorframe. No one said a word. No one looked at me. The door clicked shut behind me, and I heard the lock turn.
It was pouring rain.
I stood on the sidewalk in my bare feet, the water soaking through the silk, making the beads heavy against my skin. The street was empty. No cars. No cabs. Just the rain and the distant hum of the city.
I didn’t move for a long time.
Dominic’s words played over and over in my head.
You were never a bride. You were a shield.
My father.
My own father had sold me.
I’d known the engagement was a business deal. I’d accepted it. Spent three years learning how to be the perfect mafia wife, how to smile when I wanted to scream, how to look the other way when men showed up at the house with bruises and blood on their shirts. I’d done it all for him. Because he’d told me it was for the family. Because he’d said I was the only one who could save us.
And all along he’d been gambling away every dollar we had.
Using me as collateral.
I finally started walking.
Barefoot down the wet sidewalk, toward my father’s townhouse on the other side of Beacon Hill. The rain plastered my hair to my face. People in passing cars stared. I didn’t care. Nothing hurt worse than the cold in my chest.
It took me an hour to get there.
The lights were on in the study.
I let myself in through the front door, dripping water all over the marble foyer. My father was standing by the fireplace, a scotch in his hand, his face red with rage. He’d already gotten the call.
“Where is it?” he snapped, before I could even speak.
“Where’s what?”
“The ring, Elara. The Rizzo ring. Dominic called. Said he dropped it in an ice bucket. Did you get it back? That ring alone is worth half a million.”
I stared at him.
Water dripped off the end of my nose onto the floor.
“He told me,” I said. My voice was hoarse. “About the debts. About how you sold me.”
He went still for half a second.
Then he laughed. A sharp, bitter sound.
“Sold you? Please. I gave you a life. A chance to be somebody. And you threw it all away over a dress and a maid.” He stepped toward me, pointing a finger in my face. “You humiliated me in front of every important person in this city. You cut that girl’s hair. You put your hands on the mother of the Rizzo heir. Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
“I did what you taught me,” I shot back. “I put the help in her place. I protected what was mine.”
“What was yours?” He laughed again. “None of it was ever yours. The gown. The ring. The title. All of it was mine to give, mine to take away. And now it’s gone. All of it. Dominic’s pulled every deal we had. The banks are calling in the loans. We’re ruined.”
He took a long drink of scotch.
“Get out,” he said.
I froze.
“What?”
“You heard me. Get out. I don’t have a daughter anymore. Not one stupid enough to destroy everything I built over a spilled glass of champagne. You want to act like a spoiled brat? You can live like one. On the street.”
“You’re disowning me?”
“Consider it a lesson in consequences.”
He turned his back to me. Stared into the fire like I wasn’t even there.
I stood there for a long time.
Waiting for him to turn around. To say he was joking. To tell me he’d fix it, like he always did.
He never did.
I walked out the front door.
This time I didn’t look back.
I had nothing. No phone. No wallet. No shoes. Just a ruined Versace gown and a cut on my left hand where the ring had been.
I walked until my feet bled.
Until the fancy townhouses turned into smaller apartments, then into bodegas and laundromats. I ended up sitting on a bench outside a 24-hour diner, watching the rain fall, my feet throbbing, my whole body shaking.
A waitress came out a few minutes later.
Held out a cup of hot coffee and a pair of old sneakers.
“You look like you need these more than I do,” she said.
I stared at the coffee.
I didn’t say thank you. I didn’t know how. No one had ever done anything for me without wanting something in return.
She set them on the bench next to me.
Went back inside without another word.
I put the sneakers on. They were too big, but they were dry. I drank the coffee. It was bitter, too hot, burned my tongue.
It was the first kind thing anyone had done for me in as long as I could remember.
I sat there until the sun came up.
Watched the city wake up. People walking to work, laughing, holding hands. Normal people with normal lives. People who weren’t sold by their fathers. People who weren’t engaged to men who loved someone else. People who didn’t cut off a pregnant girl’s hair because they were angry at the world.
I thought of Lila.
Sobbing on the floor. Her hair cut short, jagged, ruined.
I thought of Dominic.
Kneeling in front of her, holding her like she was the only thing that mattered.
I thought of my father.
Staring into the fire, telling me I was nothing.
For the first time in my life, I didn’t feel angry.
I felt ashamed.
Deep, burning shame that settled in my bones, heavier than the gown ever was. I’d been cruel. Vicious. To a girl who’d done nothing but exist. A girl who’d already lost her mom, who was carrying a baby, who was just trying to survive.
I’d become exactly what everyone expected me to be.
A spoiled, heartless mafia princess.
And now I had nothing to show for it.
I stood up.
Threw the empty coffee cup in the trash.
I didn’t know what I was going to do. I didn’t have a plan. I didn’t have money, or a place to stay, or anyone to call.
May you like
But I knew one thing.
I wasn’t going to be that girl anymore.
