Chapter 3

Valeria

Victor, Silvia, and Dante rushed the sofa.

Camilla held up her hand. A deep cut split her palm open. Blood dripped steadily onto the marble floor.

"Security swept the entire perimeter," Dante snarled, his hand dropping to the Glock at his waist. "Who the hell slipped a rigged box in here?"

Silvia scanned the mess of gifts. Her eyes locked on the open velvet lid. "That unmarked box... was that from Val?"

Camilla didn't miss a beat. Perfect tears instantly spilled down her cheeks. "Mama, please don't blame Val. It was sitting on my vanity this morning. I honestly thought she just wanted to surprise me."

The shift was instant. Any trace of pity for my absence evaporated, replaced by absolute disgust.

"I knew it," Victor growled, his face turning red. "No wonder the bitch is off the grid. She planned a hit on her own sister!"

"Fucking psycho," Dante spat.

Victor kicked the velvet box across the room. "Enough. Get her to Dr. Rossi's clinic right now."

Dante hesitated. "We need to wrap that cut tight first to stop the bleeding. I'll grab the heavy gauze from the basement."

He turned toward the hall. Camilla gasped. She grabbed Dante's arm, digging her nails into his jacket. "No! Don't leave me! Dr. Rossi has supplies. Please, Dante, just stay with me!"

If Dante had taken one single step down those basement stairs, he would have smelled it. The heavy, metallic stench of my blood leaking from the underground vault.

But he didn't. He just scooped Camilla up in his arms.

They rushed out of the mansion, leaving my ghost stranded in the dead quiet parlor.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to tell them I didn't do it, that I was rotting under their feet. But I couldn't make a sound. And even if they could hear me, they wouldn't care. They always bought her lies.

Old Marry stepped out of the hallway with a rag to wipe the bloody marble. She stared at the kicked box and shook her head with a tired sigh. "Miss Marcano... why didn't you ever learn to dodge a punch?"

I turned away and floated back to my office.

Seeing the black leather ledger on my desk dragged up a memory I always tried to bury. Evaluation day. The day the old Consigliere graded our worth.

Dante went first. He was huge, ruthless, an absolute brawler. He was instantly groomed to be the syndicate's muscle. Victor looked at him with pure pride.

Then came Camilla. Pretty, charming, and a born liar. Silvia hugged her tight, declaring her the family's ultimate weapon. The golden girl who would sweet-talk politicians and bankers.

I didn't want to let them down. I stepped up, waiting for my assessment. But when the old man looked me up and down, the room went dead silent.

I wasn't gorgeous enough to be a honeypot. I wasn't scary enough to rule the streets. I was just a quiet teenager who was weirdly good at math.

From that day on, I was a "civilian." A nobody. Even after I took over the books, built their offshore accounts, and laundered millions for the empire, they still just saw me as a calculator.

Dante and Camilla got the glory, the power, and the love. And I got a desk in a windowless vault.

I was a disposable ghost long before I ever took my last breath.