The Principessa’s Mafia Trial: From A Stripped Bride To A Crimson Queen Chapter 02
The Godfather’s Cruelty
I turned back to Dominic.
“Explain. Now.”
He didn’t even look at me. He was wiping a wine stain off Lucia’s shoulder with his thumb, gentle, careful.
“Dom,” I said again. Louder.
He finally lifted his head. No guilt. No concern. Just irritation.
“It’s a game, Vivian. Relax.” He shrugged off his suit jacket and draped it over Lucia’s shoulders. “Wash it off. Problem solved.”
“A game?” I pointed at my chest.
The gown was plastered to my skin. The wine had ruined the ivory lace and made it cling to my skin.
Every man in this courtyard had his phone out.
“Tell them to stop filming,” I said.
Dominic glanced at the crowd. Dozens of Falcone soldiers, drunk guests, women in cocktail dresses, all watching, all recording.
Lucia buried her face deeper into his chest. “Dom, I feel so bad. I really didn’t mean to—”
“I know, baby.” He kissed the top of her head. “She’ll get over it.”
That was when I stopped hoping he would protect me.
Eight years. I had loved this man for eight years.
I turned down every marriage proposal my father arranged. I fought my family to stay with Dominic.
Three years ago, when the Falcone shipping routes were seized, I begged my father to help. He did.
When Dominic’s casino deal collapsed, I wired him twelve million from my own trust. No contract. No guarantee. I did it because I loved him.
And six months ago, he got down on one knee and told me I was his forever.
I believed him.
Then Lucia came back from Europe, and everything changed.
“Dominic,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “I came here tonight because you asked me to. I wore this gown because it means something. My grandmother wore it. My mother altered it for me before she died. And your people just destroyed it while you watched.”
“It’s a dress, Vivian.”
“It’s not just a dress.”
“Then get a new one.” He waved his hand. “I’ll pay for it.”
Behind me, a Falcone soldier whistled low. “Damn, that lace doesn’t hide much when it’s wet.”
Laughter rippled through the crowd.
I spun around. “Who said that?”
Nobody answered. More phones went up.
I turned back to Dominic, and that’s when I saw he’d signaled someone behind me.
Two of his guards moved toward the courtyard gates and pulled them shut. The heavy iron clanged.
Locked.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
Dominic kept Lucia under his arm and walked toward the head table without a word.
“Dom!”
He sat down and poured himself a fresh glass of wine.
“The party’s not over, Vivian.” He swirled the glass. “Nobody leaves until I say so.”
His men blocked the gates. The cameras were still rolling.
This wasn’t an accident. It was planned.
I looked at Lucia, still clinging to Dominic’s side.
She looked at me over his shoulder. For half a second, the tears were gone.
Just a smile.
Quick and sharp, then gone.
She wanted me to see it.
I reached for the Cavallo Heart, my grandmother’s pendant, hanging at my throat.
The white gold was warm against my fingers. Inside the clasp was a hidden tracker linked to the Cavallo and Savino emergency line.
As long as I wore it, I was never truly alone.
Dominic caught me touching it.
“Still wearing that ugly thing?” He nodded toward the necklace. “Lucia, wouldn’t you say that piece is a little outdated?”
Lucia tilted her head, studying the pendant like she was window shopping.
“It’s cute,” she said softly. “In an old-fashioned way.”
Then she looked up at Dominic with those wide eyes.
“I’ve actually always wanted one like it.”
Dominic set down his glass.
And turned his gaze to me.
“Give it to her.”
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