The Principessa’s Mafia Trial: From A Stripped Bride To A Crimson Queen Chapter 04
Shattered Heirloom
I grabbed her wrist.
“Don’t touch it.”
Lucia yanked her hand back and spun toward Dominic.
“She’s hurting me again! Dom, she grabbed my arm—”
“Let go of her,” Dominic said without turning around.
“She’s trying to take my necklace.”
“I said let go.”
Two soldiers seized my arms from behind and wrenched them apart. My grip broke. My wrists burned.
Lucia rubbed her arm like I’d broken it, then pointed at the pendant.
“Dom, that’s the piece I want. You said you’d give it to me.”
“It’s a family heirloom,” I spat. “It belonged to my grandmother. It was passed down to my mother. My mother left it to me. You can’t have it.”
Dominic turned around. He studied the necklace for a moment, then looked at Lucia.
“You really want it?”
“More than anything.”
He walked toward me.
“Dominic, don’t.” My voice dropped. “This is the last thing I have from my mother. You know that.”
He stopped in front of me. For one second, just one, something flickered in his eyes. Recognition. Memory. Maybe even guilt.
Then Lucia whimpered behind him.
“Dom, if you won’t even do this for me, maybe you don’t really care about me at all…”
The flicker died.
Dominic reached for the chain.
I twisted away, but the soldiers held me. Dominic’s fingers closed around the pendant and pulled. The chain bit into my neck.
“Dom — stop —”
He pulled harder. The clasp cut into my skin. I felt blood bead along my collarbone.
Then the chain snapped.
The Cavallo Heart came free in his fist.
He didn’t even look at it. He just turned around and handed it to Lucia.
Lucia took it with both hands, eyes bright. She unclasped it, put it around her own neck, and let the pendant settle against her chest.
“Perfect,” she breathed. She turned to me. “Thanks, Vivian. It looks better on me anyway.”
The soldiers released my arms. I dropped forward, palms hitting the wet stone.
Wine, blood, and torn lace covered me.
The gown hung off me in shreds, one soldier had torn the left sleeve clean off during the struggle, and the bodice was ripped down to the waist.
Pieces of ivory lace floated in the wine puddles around me.
My mother’s stitches. Every single one, destroyed.
Lucia spun around once, admiring how the pendant caught the light.
“You know what, Dom? I think this calls for a toast.”
But I wasn’t listening to her anymore.
Because the moment that chain snapped, the moment the clasp broke under force, a silent signal pulsed from the chip embedded inside the pendant.
A top-level emergency alert went out.
Destination: the Savino family’s war room.
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