Chapter 3

Corinne's POV

The room erupted. Even I was stunned.

Lorenzo skimmed the file, his face darkening, then hurled it at me. "Corinne, you've disappointed me. Again and again, you go after Blair." His voice climbed. "Damon—"

He stopped halfway.

Blair felt him waver. Something ugly flashed in her eyes and was gone. Then she was weeping, pleading. "Lorenzo, she's still my sister. Don't kill her. Lock her in the dungeon for a while. That's punishment enough."

The dungeon.

His jaw tightened. I could see him fighting it. The dungeon was cold and wet, and the few who came out rarely came out whole. My back hadn't healed. I might not survive it.

Blair read every second of his hesitation, and it only fed her jealousy. Her voice thinned. "I don't want to punish her either... but if we don't, what will the other families think of me? ...Never mind. Forget it ever happened."

The moment she finished, she went white and swayed.

"Blair!" He caught her, alarmed. "Get the doctor—now!"

He looked at me, then down at Blair, barely breathing in his arms.

"Take Corinne Moretti to the dungeon. She stays there until I decide what to do with her."

The enforcers dragged me out without ceremony. I didn't fight. I didn't argue. I could see it clearly now: the whole thing was a show Blair had written, directed, and starred in. Explaining would have been pointless.

The dungeon reeked of rot and mildew. They threw me into a cell and slammed the iron door, shutting out every scrap of light. The wounds on my back tore open again. Blood soaked my shirt. The pain rolled over me, and I didn't have the strength left to care.

I don't know how long I lay there before the door opened. Two guards came in. The bigger one, Rocco, crouched over me. "Nothing personal, Miss Corinne. Word from the top is you needed a lesson in respect. You're supposed to learn who not to cross."

For two days they took turns teaching me that lesson. Fists and boots landed on a body that was already a map of bruises. The wounds on my back split open again and again. I clenched my jaw and didn't make a sound. My mind rose and sank through the dark and the cold and the pain.

I was right on the edge of letting go when someone lifted me off the floor. The arms holding me trembled with a careful, familiar kind of fear. I forced my eyes open. Through the blur I could make out the hard line of Lorenzo's jaw.

The next time I woke, I was back in bed at the guesthouse. He sat beside me with a cup of medicine in his hands. When he saw my eyes open, he exhaled. "You're up. Drink this."

I pushed myself up and took the cup from him. "I can do it myself."

His hand hung in the air. He watched me struggle to lift the cup, tip it back, and drain the bitter stuff in one go without a wince. That same nameless frustration crossed his face.

"Why are you like this?" His voice was rough. "Back when it was just the two of us, I took care of you like this all the time."

I set down the empty cup and wiped my mouth with the back of my wrist. I was weak, but my voice was clear. "That was before. Things are settled now. Blair is the lady of the house. I shouldn't be taking up your time."

His brows drew together. "You're angry I locked you up."

"I wouldn't dare." I lowered my eyes. "But I didn't spread those rumors. I didn't set her up."

Silence. The dim lamp traced the hard edges of his face.

"I know," he said suddenly.

My eyes snapped to his. I couldn't believe it.

"I have more than enough people watching this house. I know exactly who was behind it." He looked away, and he sounded tired. "I've told Blair a hundred times that I only got engaged to you because I had to. But she's insecure. Every time I show you the smallest consideration, she can't handle it. This was her testing me."

He looked at me again, something complicated moving in his eyes. "I can't break her heart. To make her feel safe, I had to play along. I'm sorry you got caught in the middle."

I'm sorry you got caught in the middle.

That was all. A handful of words for being framed, humiliated, beaten, and left to die in a cell. Blair had staged it all to feel secure. He had watched to prove he loved her. Together they'd thrown me into hell—and now I was supposed to understand how hard it had been for them.

I looked at him and started to laugh. It was a pale, hollow sound, aimed mostly at myself.

Something in that laugh seemed to cut him. A strange panic crossed his face. I think he'd expected me to be hurt, or bitter. He hadn't expected this.

"This time, I owe you." His voice softened into a promise. "Rest. Get better. I'll make it up to you. And the next time it comes down to you or Blair, I swear—I'll choose you."

Next time. I'll choose you.

I closed my eyes. I had never been so tired. "There won't be a next time," I said, so quietly it barely carried.

"What?" He hadn't caught it.

Damon appeared in the doorway, his face tight. "Boss." He kept his voice low. "We've found the leak. Someone inside has been selling our shipping schedules—the Vitale family knew every move before we made it. The West Coast docks are already compromised. The capos are downstairs; they want blood, and they want to know whose. If we don't lock this down tonight, we lose the coast."

Lorenzo's expression hardened. A traitor in his own house—the one thing he couldn't afford.

"Business comes first," I said, before he could speak. My voice was calm and distant. "I'm fine. Go."

My coolness made his temper flare—but underneath it was something closer to helplessness. He said nothing more. He gave me one long look and left.

After that, he really did start "making it up to me." Jewelry, rare collectibles, things only the lady of the house was meant to have—all of it came pouring into the guesthouse.

Then one day he sent word: he wanted to take me to his private villa in the hills. A place he'd never brought anyone—not even Blair had set foot in it.

That was the day the drug was due to take effect.

If I died suddenly here at the guesthouse, it could pass as my body finally giving out. If I dropped dead in the back of a car on the way to his villa, there'd be questions. I was about to send the new maid, Nadia, to decline when the window burst open. A man in black swung through it. I opened my mouth to scream—something slammed into the back of my neck, and the world went dark.