Chapter 2

CELINA

The next morning, Joren's engagement was all over my phone.

ASHBY GROUP CEO TO WED IN CEREMONY OF THE YEAR

The photo was from The Aurelian, the most expensive hotel in Halcyon City: forty thousand roses, Joren on one knee, and a girl glowing like she'd never been happier.

On her finger, a red diamond. The only one its size in the world, said the caption. Thirty million dollars.

I remembered another proposal.

Five years ago, on the fire escape of his crummy student apartment, Joren had braided three loose threads from my hem into a ring. He was a scholarship kid back then, all sharp edges and a sad story about the rich family that had thrown his father out like trash.

"I'll take care of you, Celina. No matter what, I'm not going anywhere."

I'd laughed, cried, and surrendered my family signet to him.

Two years in a coma, and that promise was nothing but a sick punchline.

He'd given me a ring braided from string. He gave her a thirty-million-dollar diamond.

Then something at the girl's throat caught my eye. I zoomed in.

A man's signet ring on a gold chain. A crowned lion, one paw raised, cut deep into its face.

My ring.

There are only two in the world. My brother wears one. The other I put on Joren's finger the night he proposed—and with it, every Grassi man in Halcyon City. That ring is how a scholarship kid became CEO of the Ashby Group.

And now it was hanging around Romina Blythe's neck.

The room spun. Then I remembered the rule.

It's older than any of us. The ring answers to Grassi blood. On anyone else, it's only borrowed—it carries the name of whoever gave it, nothing more. When Joren wore it, the men obeyed him solely because he was my husband. On a stranger's neck, without my word behind it, it's just gold.

Romina couldn't move a single Grassi man with it. Not one.

I got dressed and took a cab to the harbor.

From the street, Faro was just a seafood place with a striped awning. But behind it, my family did business, and Rafe had run things for me since the day I came to Halcyon City. Rafe—the man who had taught me to ride a bike and fire a pistol, strictly in that order.

I didn't recognize a single face at the door.

"I'm here for Rafe Giuliani."

The bigger guard sneered. "The old man mouthed off to Miss Grassi." He stepped forward, shoving me hard in the chest. "So he's dead. Mr. Locatelli runs this house now, and he doesn't see strays. Beat it."

Miss Grassi.

The cold spread through my veins until I couldn't breathe. Someone else was using my name. And while I was lying in a coma, that imposter had murdered the man who’d been more of a father to me than my own.

And Locatelli? I’d never even heard the name.

I steadied myself, tilting my chin up. "I am Celina Grassi."

He laughed—a harsh, grating sound. Then his eyes dropped to my bare hands.

"Yeah?" He grabbed my wrist, prying my fingers open just to mock the empty space. "Where's your ring, princess?"

He shoved me again, harder this time, sending me stumbling backward until I hit the pavement.

My palms scraped against the concrete. I bit down on the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood. Then I got up, turned my back on the laughing men, and hailed a cab.

Ashby House still knew my thumbprint. The gate swung open like I'd never left.

I slipped in through the side door. Passing the morning room, I stopped.

A boy of about one sat in a high chair, banging a spoon. In the kitchen beyond, the nanny had her back to him.

He looked up at me. He had Joren's eyes.

Then I went upstairs, to the Elias Ashby's bedroom.

Back at the hospital, I'd barely sat down before Joren burst in.

"Where's Felixy?"

I blinked. "Who?"

His face went dark, like he wanted his hands around my throat.

"Don't play dumb. The gate logged your thumbprint this morning. You took him. I'm warning you, Celina—Felixy is my—"

His phone rang. He pressed it to his ear, and I watched the fury drain out of him. The room was so quiet I could hear the gritty voice bleed through the speaker.

"We found him. Under the sofa in the living room."

"So," I said when he hung up. "Who's Felixy?"

He wouldn't quite meet my eyes. "Nobody. You went home today?"

"I missed you. You weren't there, so I came back."

He studied me, then smiled.

"Next time, give me a heads-up," he said, adjusting his collar. "Felix is my cousin Tiernan's kid. He's crashing here temporarily and he's easily spooked. Do me a favor and stay away for a while so you don't stress him out."

I nodded like a good girl.

I didn't bother mentioning that he didn't have a cousin named Tiernan. Or any cousins at all.

When he finally left, I reached into my coat pocket and unfolded the paper.

Elias Ashby's will.

Three years ago, I'd watched Elias tape it under his own bed frame. He used to say I was the only person in that house who didn't want anything from him, so he made me his witness.

Joren had no idea it existed.

According to this paper, every cent, every property the Ashbys owned went solely to Elias's youngest son—the one they'd thrown out of the family years ago.

Gideon.

I'd kept this secret buried. I did it to protect Joren's inheritance. Looking back, maybe my silence that day was the exact down payment on the betrayal I was cashing in now.

My phone buzzed against my palm. A text from Rhys.

Found Gideon Ashby.