Sold Back To My Mafia Husband Chapter 07
The Gala of Shadows
Dante found me before I said a word.
The Waldorf ballroom was packed with killers in tuxedos and wives covered in diamonds bought with dirty money.
Every major family in America had sent someone.
New York. Chicago. Vegas. Miami. Boston.
And the Rossis walked in last.
On purpose.
Julian’s hand rested lightly at my lower back. Not claiming. Guiding. His black suit fit perfectly. The double-headed eagle pin on his lapel flashed under the chandeliers.
I wore black.
No red. No white. No soft colors from my old life.
The gown left my back bare and my throat covered in black diamonds. My scars were hidden tonight, not from shame, but from strategy.
Whispers spread through the ballroom.
“Rossi.”
“Julian brought a woman.”
“Who is she?”
I kept my chin high.
I did not search for Dante.
I did not need to.
I felt the moment he saw me.
Across the ballroom, near the Moretti table, a crystal glass shattered.
Not dropped.
Crushed.
Red wine ran over Dante’s hand and onto the white tablecloth.
Bianca stood beside him in silver. Her perfect face went pale when she saw me.
She wore my old face. I wore the one I had chosen.
For one second, we just stared at each other.
Then Dante moved.
He walked through the crowd too fast. Men stepped out of his way. Bianca grabbed his sleeve, but he pulled free without looking at her.
“Elena.”
He said my name, and his voice broke.
Julian stopped.
So did I.
Dante stood in front of us, breathing hard. His eyes moved over my face, my hair, my mouth, my neck.
Then lower.
To the place behind my ear.
The place he used to kiss when he wanted me to forgive him.
I turned slightly before he could see the birthmark.
His hands shook.
“El,” he said. “It’s you.”
I gave him a polite smile.
The kind you give a stranger at a funeral.
“Don Moretti,” I said. “Good evening.”
His face drained.
Not because I hated him.
Because I sounded like I felt nothing.
Julian’s hand stayed at my back. “Dante.”
Dante looked at him for the first time.
His eyes hardened. “Julian Rossi.”
“Careful,” Julian said. “You’re bleeding in front of my fiancee.”
Fiancée.
Everyone heard it.
Whispers spread from table to table.
Dante stared at Julian’s hand near me, then at the ring on my finger.
A black diamond set in white gold. Rossi family design. No one could ignore it.
“No,” Dante said.
I almost laughed.
No.
As if he still had the right.
Bianca finally reached us. Her smile started to shake.
“This is a sick joke,” she said. “She’s dead.”
I looked at her.
She looked perfect.
She looked terrified.
“Am I?” I asked.
Her eyes flicked to my cheek. The doctors had erased most of the damage, but not all. A thin line still remained near my jaw. I kept it there by choice.
Bianca saw it.
She knew.
Her lips parted.
I leaned closer, just enough for her to hear me.
“You should have paid better men.”
Her face went white.
Dante caught the exchange. “What does that mean?”
I turned back to him.
“It means your doll is nervous.”
Bianca grabbed his arm. “Dante, don’t listen to her. She’s trying to ruin us.”
“Us?” I asked softly.
That one word hurt more than shouting would have.
Dante flinched.
I looked at his bleeding hand. “You should get that cleaned up. Infection can be ugly.”
Then I took Julian’s arm and walked past him.
People moved out of our way.
For years, I had dreamed of Dante running toward me.
Now he did.
And I walked away.
At the Rossi table, Julian pulled out my chair. I sat with every Don in the country watching.
Dante remained behind me.
I felt his eyes on my back.
Then Bianca’s voice broke through the whispers.
“She’s lying!” she snapped. “She can’t be Elena. I’m Elena now!”
No one spoke. I heard Dante turn around.
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