When a Hostage Claims Her Due

I shrank back into the shadows of the hallway. Only after they were gone did I creep out and retrieve the torn pieces of my sketch from the wastebasket.

Just then, Lorenzo turned back, running right into me. A flash of guilt crossed his face. "Flora, I forgot a document."

I dodged his outstretched hand. "The alliance agreement in your hand looks fine. This piece of trash isn't necessary." My gaze fell on the contract with the Marchetti family he was holding.

He was stunned for a moment before his expression soured into the irritation of being caught. "What are you throwing a fit about? I told you I came back for a document! This alliance is far more important than your useless drawing! Bianca's family, her insight—what part of that isn't better than what you can offer?"

His words were another knife to the gut. I stared at him, disbelief choking me. "You really believe that?"

Lately, I’d heard the whispers—that I was jealous of Bianca, that I was picking fights with Lorenzo. No one ever stopped to consider that we were the lovers, and she was the intruder.

His tone was sharp with impatience. "Am I wrong? You're dripping with jealousy for Bianca, and you won't even admit it. Everyone sees it! She's more valuable to this family than you'll ever be. I'm still choosing you, shouldn't that be enough?"

Seeing my stunned silence, he snatched Bianca's coat from a nearby chair and stormed out.

That night, Lorenzo must have realized he’d gone too far, because he sent a gift to my room. "Flora, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. This is an antique paintbrush you've been wanting; I went to an auction specifically to get it for you."

My eyes landed on a second jewelry box, and my stomach plummeted. "What's this?" I asked.

"That's for Bianca. She liked it, too. It's a more valuable bracelet."

An apology gift for me, and a more valuable one for her. The thought was a bitter pill. A lump formed in my throat. "Lorenzo, don't you see how much you've changed?"

"Don't you think you've changed?" he shot back.

Tears welled, my voice cracking. "I've changed? Yes. Bianca's constant digs have made me insecure, sensitive, and tormented!"

"Don't you dare talk about her like that! She's not that kind of person!" He rushed to her defense so quickly it was like a physical blow, each word another needle in my heart.

After that, we fell into a cold war, one that dragged on longer than any before.

He and Bianca started appearing everywhere together, a perfect couple in everyone's eyes.

One day, Bianca asked to meet me at a bar frequented only by the family. When I arrived, she was in a heated argument with members of a rival family. I had no choice but to pull her away. On the road back, we were cut off by Cassano family enforcers.

Terror seized me, but I forced it down, my fingers fumbling to send a distress signal to Lorenzo.

Bianca grabbed my arm, her eyes wide. "Flora, go get help! I'll hold them off. There's one of our outposts just up the road—run!"

I couldn't think of a better plan, so I turned and ran. By the time I returned with the Underboss, Lorenzo was already there, cradling a terrified-looking Bianca.

"Are you okay?" I gasped, relieved.

Then Bianca spoke, and the world fell out from under me. "I just wanted to explain things to you, but you kept leading me toward the rival family's men. Were you trying to sell them information? Do you hate me that much? Is this because you're jealous I can bring an alliance to Lorenzo?"

The onslaught of accusations left me reeling. "What? No! That's not what happened!"

But Lorenzo's hand was already moving. He slapped me, hard, across the face.