For a moment, I just stared at it, my mind blank, my heart too numb to even react properly. My left hand drifted to my bare wrist and pressed hard against the skin where the bracelet had sat for years, the emptiness there worse than any wound on my body.
Then, carefully, I picked up the broken bracelet and placed it into my bag.
No tears came this time. I had none left to give.
Downstairs, the celebration was already in full swing. Laughter echoed through the halls of the Montecarlo estate. Glasses clinked. Voices blended into a cheerful hum. I could hear soldiers and capos and their wives all performing their loyalty, the way they did at every gathering the Old Don hosted.
Enzo was down there too. Smiling. Talking. Playing his role perfectly. As if I had never existed.
I pulled my sleeves down tightly, trying to cover the angry red bites that still burned across my skin. My hand throbbed painfully, swollen and tender, but there was nothing I could do about it.
Taking a steadying breath, I opened the door and stepped out.