Chapter 4

The blue light of the security panel was the only thing that saw me wake.

4:30 AM.

In the Solovino Manor, this was the only hour that belonged to me. My brothers were still asleep in their respective wings, their dreams likely filled with conquest and control. The guards at the gate were at their most lethargic, nursing lukewarm coffee.

I sat at my vanity, the marble surface cold against my palms. I didn't turn on the overhead lights; I preferred the gray, pre-dawn shadows. I went through my routine with robotic precision—skincare, hair, the sharp lines of my suit. No makeup. I didn't want a mask; I wanted armor.

By the time the sun began to bleed over the horizon, I was already in my home office, reviewing the files for the day’s depositions.

Thump. Thump.

The sound of a knuckles against wood made me freeze. It was too soft to be Rocco, too rhythmic to be Luca.

"Enter," I said, my voice already settling into its courtroom ice.

Dante stepped in. He was already dressed in a charcoal suit, looking every bit the heir to an empire built on shadows. He held a silver tray with a single cup of black tea.

"You're up early," he said, placing the tea on my desk. He didn't ask if I’d slept. He already knew I hadn't. He looked at the files spread across my desk. "The Miller case. High stakes. Father wants a win by noon."

"Father will get what he pays for," I replied, taking a sip of the tea. It was bitter. Just the way I liked it.

Dante lingered, his eyes roaming my face. "You were screaming last night, Krystel. Again."

I didn't look up. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sarah’s name came up. Among others." He stepped closer, leaning over my desk until he was in my space. "It’s been years, Krys. You need to let the dead stay buried. We did what was necessary to keep the family pure. To keep you pure."

I finally looked up, my gaze locking onto his. "Pure? Is that what you call it? I have a graveyard for a social circle, Dante. Is that the Solovino definition of purity?"

His expression didn't change. It never did. "A diamond doesn't need friends, Krystel. It just needs to be held by the right hands."

He turned and left without another word, the click of the door sounding like a final sentence.

Two hours later, I was in the back of the armored SUV, sandwiched between Luca and Rocco on the way to the firm. The city blurred past the bulletproof glass—a world of people who could touch each other without a background check, people who could fall in love without a death warrant.

I spent the morning in the boardroom, dismantling the opposing counsel with a cold, terrifying efficiency. I was brilliant. I was untouchable. I was exactly what my father wanted me to be.

But as I sat in my high-back leather chair after the meeting, the silence of my office felt heavier than usual. I looked at my phone. No texts from friends. No invitations to lunch. Just a missed call from my father’s assistant.

I walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, looking down at the street. I felt like a ghost watching a world of the living.

I guess you were mine to lose, I whispered to the empty room, echoing in the hollow space of my heart.

I didn't know then that my father was currently downstairs, signing the contract for the man to be my annoying shadow. And he was already on his way.

I just knew that I was tired of being a masterpiece. I wanted to be a person.

Even if it killed me.

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