The Bastard Bride of Saint Giovanni

So I went to find Adrian.

Adrian was on the second-floor terrace, taking a call. When he saw me, he only said to the person on the other end, "We’ll talk later."

"Do you actually know what the signet means?"

"I do." He leaned against the railing. "But rules are rules, and people are people."

"What does that mean?"

"It means giving the signet to Lucia tonight does not mean you are out. I’ll talk to the Sorrentos. Trust me."

"Then get it back now. I only need it for one night. I’ll return it tomorrow."

"That would look bad."

"Look bad?"

"She has already taken photos and sent them to the nuns at the orphanage. How do you expect her to explain it?"

The nuns.

Lucia had prepared even that.

I looked at Adrian and realized he truly believed I was being unreasonable.

"Grace, calm down." His tone softened, like he was speaking to a younger sister. "You are mine. Everyone in this city knows that. Even without the signet, no one would dare send you anywhere."

"Then say that in front of the Godfather with me."

His expression changed at last.

Not anger. Tired impatience.

"Grace."

"What did you say three days ago? You said the signet was mine. You said you would not let anyone send me to Chicago. You said..."

"Enough."

His voice was quiet, but final.

He straightened from the railing and looked at me with absolute certainty.

"You really think the Sorrentos would dare send you away after I said no?"

"Yes."

"No," he said. "You are not going anywhere."

There it was, his mistake. He thought his name was enough to stop a deal that had already been made behind closed doors.

"If you knew I would really be sent away," I asked quietly, "would you still have given it to her?"

He frowned, as if the question itself made no sense.

"That won’t happen."

He did not answer me.

He did not need to.

My heel struck someone behind me.

Lucia’s voice came from my back, carefully startled.

"Grace, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to."

She reached too quickly for her glass, and red wine spilled across her skirt.

Adrian caught her at once.

His gaze moved from Lucia’s red eyes to my face.

That look was not anger.

It was judgment.

"Grace. Go home. I’ll come to you tomorrow."

There was no room for discussion.

It was an order.

I left the manor without saying goodbye. At the gate, I slowed for a second, but I did not turn back.

Adrian Camerlano had made his choice, and so had I.

We would not meet tomorrow.

Maybe we would not meet again.

I returned to the Sorrento estate.

Inside, the matriarch sat in the living room with a cup of cold tea.

"We raised you for eighteen years," she said. "Now it is time for you to repay us. Since the Camerlano family has chosen someone else, there is no reason for you to remain."

She paused.

"You leave tomorrow. Buy your own ticket. The Sorrento family will not pay for a bastard’s flight."

My third sister leaned against the stairs, turning the key to my room in her hand.

"Oh, and that man from the Rizzo family is said to have killed two fiancées. The first was an accident. The second was not."

She smiled.

"Mother asked me to wish you a safe trip."

I went back to my room.

It did not even have a lock.

I took off my dress, folded it, and placed it by the door. Then I removed every piece of jewelry and set them on the tray.

There was nothing left on me that belonged to the Sorrentos.

I opened the drawer and reached to the very back.

The ring.

Silver, with two initials engraved inside.

A.C.

Adrian had given it to me on my sixteenth birthday.

"Wear this," he had said. "No one in this city will dare touch you."

I held it for a moment.

Then I put it back.

I did not take it with me.

At six in the morning, the estate was still asleep.

I carried a small backpack, slipped out through the side entrance, walked twenty minutes to the subway, and rode three stops to the airport.

Security. Boarding. My seat.

The seatbelt clicked shut.

As the plane began to taxi, I took out my phone.

Before I turned it off, one last message appeared from Lucia.

In the photo, the white-gold signet was pinned to her chest. Adrian’s hand rested on her shoulder, and the cufflinks at his wrist were the ones I had given him.

The caption read:

[Thank you, Grace. I will make good use of what was yours.]

I turned off the phone.

The plane accelerated.

At the end of the runway, the coastline shimmered in the morning light.

Then the announcement came over the speaker.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we apologize. Air traffic control has issued a directive. Due to an emergency authorization from the Camerlano family, all outbound flights from Port Saint Giovanni are temporarily suspended. This aircraft will return to the terminal. Please remain seated."