The Betrayed Princess's New Reign

Elena Vitiello POV:

The whistles from the crowd grew louder, echoing off the metal bulkheads of the yacht. Several drunk gang bosses stepped closer, their eyes raking over my wet, clinging dress with undisguised, filthy hunger.

I clenched my fists at my sides. My fingernails dug so hard into my palms that the skin broke. I forced my spine to stay perfectly straight, refusing to cross my arms or show a single ounce of panic.

On the floor, Sofia was putting on the performance of a lifetime. She clutched her ankle, sobbing hysterically. Her tears ruined her makeup, making her look like a terrified victim who had just accidentally spilled a drink.

A loud, angry roar came from the spiral staircase.

Luca and Matteo burst onto the second deck, shoving two men out of the way. Luca's chest was heaving, his eyes scanning the crowd wildly.

He saw me standing there, soaked in wine, the white silk completely transparent against my skin. Then he saw Sofia sobbing on the wooden deck.

Luca didn't hesitate. He ripped off his heavy black suit jacket and sprinted forward.

For one fraction of a second, as he ran toward me, a tiny, pathetic sliver of hope flared in my chest. I thought, after ten years of loyalty, he had finally woken up. I thought he was bringing the jacket to cover me, to protect my dignity from the staring men.

He didn't even slow down.

Luca ran right past me. The wind from his movement chilled the wet silk on my skin. He dropped to his knees beside Sofia.

He wrapped his thick black jacket tightly around her shoulders, pulling her against his chest. "Are you okay? Did you twist it badly?" he asked, his voice trembling with frantic concern.

Matteo ran up right behind him. He crouched next to Sofia and shot me a vicious glare, as if I was the one who had pushed her to the ground.

I stood completely alone in the freezing lake wind. The wet fabric felt like ice against my ribs. Something inside my chest didn't just break; it shattered into dust.

That tiny sliver of hope died completely, turning into endless, cold ash. The last invisible string connecting me to Luca snapped.

The laughter around me suddenly died down. The men stopped whistling. They physically took a step back.

I didn't realize it, but the aura radiating from my body had turned completely lethal. I slowly turned my head, sweeping my eyes over the crowd like a queen inspecting a line of corpses. Every man who met my gaze instantly looked down at the floor, terrified by the pure, freezing death in my eyes.

Sofia rested her head against Luca's shoulder. She looked past his neck, locking eyes with me. A smug, victorious smile curled her lips.

Luca turned his head and looked up at me. His brow furrowed in judgment. "Why do you have to be so mean to her? It was an accident!"

I didn't answer him. Words were a waste of breath on a dead man.

I turned on my heel and walked away, heading straight for the metal stairs that led up to the isolated top deck.

Just as my foot hit the first step, the yacht's PA system crackled to life.

"Ladies and gentlemen, our July 4th special fireworks display will begin in two minutes!"

The deck instantly buzzed with excitement. Staff members in white uniforms hurried through the crowd, passing out small, handheld sparklers to the guests.

Sofia's eyes darted around the deck. She pushed herself out of Luca's arms and pointed at a metal utility cart parked near the railing. Resting on top was a massive, industrial-grade Roman candle, as thick as a man's arm.

"Luca," Sofia said, her voice trembling with fake innocence. "I'm so scared. I want to light that big firework to calm my nerves. Can I?"

Luca nodded immediately, desperate to soothe her. He walked over to the cart and picked up the heavy cardboard tube.

A staff member rushed forward, holding his hands up. "Sir, please! That's professional gear! The recoil is massive!"

Luca shoved the man hard in the chest, sending him stumbling backward. "Back off."

Luca carried the heavy tube back to Sofia. He handed it to her, then pulled a lighter from his pocket and flicked it open, lighting the thick green fuse himself.

The fuse hissed violently, spitting bright orange sparks.

Sofia gripped the heavy tube with both hands. The second the fuse burned down to the base, the fake innocence vanished from her face. Her eyes turned completely black with malice.

She spun around on her heel, raised the heavy barrel, and aimed it directly at the middle of the stairs where I was walking.

Luca and Matteo stood right next to her. They just watched, their brains completely failing to process that she was holding a weapon.

The first heavy firework shell shot out of the tube with a deafening, piercing screech, lighting the entire night sky on fire.

Sofia's face twisted in the firelight like a demon. She screamed, "Go to hell, you high and mighty princess!"