"Almost forgot," he said, slightly breathless. "Tomorrow we have to do the final check. Family tradition—the blood oath confirmation before the union ceremony."
"All right," I agreed without hesitation.
My compliance visibly relaxed him. He touched my hair, offered a compliment I had heard too many times—you're so understanding, so perfect—then left once more, his footsteps fading down the marble corridor.
The moment the door closed, I finally loosened my clenched hands. Crescent moons of red marked my palms where my nails had bitten deep.
I went to the mirror and looked at my reflection. The face staring back was calm, obedient, showing nothing unusual. A woman prepared for her arranged alliance, ready to seal her fate with blood and vows spoken before the Commission.
But I knew it was only a surface.
In two days, everything would be over.
The next morning came just as abruptly, but without any warmth. Gray light filtered through the windows of the Corleone compound, casting long shadows across the polished floors.