Chapter 2 - THE GOLDEN CAGEThe ballroom was a masterpiece of obscene wealth.
Gilded chandeliers imported from Vienna cast a warm, shimmering glow over marble floors polished to a mirror finish. String quartets played softly from a raised balcony, their classical melodies swallowed by the low, murmuring hum of powerful people exchanging whispered deals and polite, predatory smiles.
At the center of it all stood Adrian.
He looked every bit the untouchable kingpin. Dressed in a tailored Tom Ford tuxedo, a glass of vintage scotch in his hand, he laughed at something the Chief of Police murmured into his ear. Beside him, Valentina radiated a fragile, rehearsed innocence in her custom-designed lace gown, her hand resting gently over her slightly rounded stomach—the physical proof of the "heir" Adrian had spent years claiming I was too broken to provide.
When the heavy mahogany doors at the entrance of the ballroom swung open, the murmurs died down. A hush rippled outward like a stone dropped in a stagnant pond.
All heads turned.
And then, Adrian froze. His glass stopped halfway to his mouth, the amber liquid sloshing against the crystal rim.
I didn't sneak in. I didn't hide in the shadows. I walked through the double doors with my head held high, my stride unhesitating, wearing a emerald-green velvet gown that mirrored the color of venom and money. In the crook of my left arm, cradled against my chest, was a baby carrier covered by a light veil.
"Elena," Adrian whispered, the name tearing from his throat before he could stop it. The color drained from his tanned face, leaving him looking suddenly, terrifyingly mortal.
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Valentina’s smile faltered, her hand dropping from her stomach as she stared at me with wide, panicked eyes.
"Surprise, Adrian," I said, my voice cutting cleanly through the silent room, carrying effortlessly across the vast hall. "You didn't really think you could celebrate the future of the Moretti family without the woman who holds the past, did you?"
