Page 139 of Stolen Vows

I picture it. Graham on a sidewalk, blood blooming through his shirt. A home invasion that isn’t random. The door kicked in, Romeo barking, and?—

I shove the thought away so hard my vision blurs.

“You’re a monster,” I whisper, voice hoarse. But my mother only smiles.

My father sighs. “This is not a game, Francesca.”

I glare at him. He barely looks at me.

My mother takes a sip of her rocks glass and taps a fingernail against the folder. “Sign the papers.”

A slow, creeping dread coils in my stomach. The words hit like a gut punch. I swear I feel them land.

“Just do it, Frankie,” Florence says, barely above a whisper.

My stomach turns violently. The room tilts. I think I sway on my feet. “Youknew,” I choke out, my throat raw. Florence still won’t look at me. I turn to her fully, my pulse pounding. “You don’t get to call me that anymore.”

Florence swallows hard. “They already have people in place, watching Graham, and you don’t know what they’ll do?—”

“Florence,” Mother snaps. “That’s enough.”

My sister flinches like she’s been slapped, her gaze dropping back to the floor.

My chest heaves with ragged breaths as I stare at my sister. She knew. She knew what they were planning and she still lured me here. Used my love for her against me. Betrayal burns like acid in my throat.

“How could you?” I whisper, my voice cracking.

Florence doesn’t answer. She just stands there, shoulders hunched, refusing to meet my gaze. Like a marionette with its strings cut, waiting for the next tug from our mother.

I stare at my sister, trying to reconcile the woman in front of me with the little girl who used to crawl into my bed during thunderstorms. The one who whispered secrets and dreams into the dark, our pinky fingers linked beneath the covers. The one who was my other half, my mirror image, the keeper of all my hopes and fears.

She looks smaller somehow, diminished. Like our mother’s disappointment has leached the color from her cheeks, the light from her eyes. Her perfectly polished armor is cracked, revealing glimpses of the scared, lost girl beneath.

My eyes linger on the bruises around her wrists, tracing their outline. They form a sickening pattern, a bracelet of pain encircling her delicate skin. I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry as realization dawns. She didn’t betray me by choice. Someone forced her hand, leaving their mark on her body as a twisted reminder.

Something sharp and hot tears through my chest.

They hurt her.I inhale sharply, blinking against the realization.

I stare at my sister, anger and betrayal still churning in my gut, but now tempered by a growing sense of horror. Florence didn’t lure me here of her own free will. Someone forced her hand, using violence and fear to make her comply. The reality of it hits me like a punch to the throat, leaving me winded and aching.

My gaze snaps back to my mother, lips curling into a snarl. “I’m leaving, and I’m taking my sister with me.” I take a single step back, forcing my breathing to stay even.

Giovanni stands slowly, rolling his shoulders like he’s shaking off an inconvenience. His eyes sweep over me, calculated, assessing. “I’m tired of this, Chessa,” he murmurs, like this is a negotiation he’s indulging for too long.

He takes a slow step forward. Then another. Like a lion circling prey that doesn’t know it’s already dead. Then he moves too fast. His hand clamps around my arm, his grip bruising. I yelp, stumbling as he yanks me forward.

“You don’t get to say no anymore,” he breathes, shoving me hard against the wall.

I turn my head, locking eyes with my sister. And for the first time in over a decade, I do something I swore I never would.

I beg.

Florence takes a single step forward. And that’s all I see before Giovanni yanks me away.

49

GRAHAM

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