CASSIA
"Don Marcelli is dead," Doctor Jerry Russo announced, his voice tight and grave.
Then came the wailing—from the maids, from my stepmother, from my stepsisters. But I didn't move.
The room spun. The dark brown walls and white ceiling blurred together until they became one. I was grateful for the chair beneath me; otherwise, my face would have met the polished marble floor.
Blinking rapidly, I forced the haze from my vision. When my sight finally cleared, it locked onto the dark, sticky blood still smeared across my trembling palms.
"A failure," I whispered to myself. "You failed, Cassia."
I bit the inside of my mouth hard enough to hurt, hoping the sting would bring tears so I could join everyone else in crying. But none came.
Just the pain. Not physical. The kind that consumed from within. Hollowed me out. Left me helpless. Useless.
"Here."
I dragged my heavy gaze from my hands to the ring now held in front of me, along with a folded note. Then to his face.
"Your father wanted you to have this," Doctor Jerry said quietly. His face was pale. The wrinkles stood out more, and I could see the grief he was trying to hide.
I nodded once, taking the ring and the note from him before shoving both into my pocket, blood and all.
"Listen, Cassia, your father—"
"No," I cut him off.
I stood abruptly. I didn't want to hear whatever explanation or comfort he was about to offer. I needed to leave. Needed air. Needed silence.
I needed to be alone and drown in my grief. I barely made it two steps before someone shoved me hard. I stumbled backward, nearly losing my footing before I steadied myself.
Juliette.
She stood in front of me, chest heaving. She was two years older than me. Lenora, her sister, stood just behind her. They both looked exactly like their mother. The three of them could have passed for triplets.
Striking blonde hair curled neatly at the ends. Green eyes flecked with gold. Fair, porcelain skin. Like something carved from a fairy tale.
The "perfect" Marcelli daughters, people would whisper. And reserved the disgust for me.
Why?
I didn't know myself.
"You killed him," Juliette spat, her eyes blazing. "Just like you killed your mother."
My heart twisted painfully at the mention of my mother. Her death was something I never spoke about. Even to this day, it haunted me.
My father remarried two weeks later, after she died, to Francesca. She came with two daughters from her previous marriage. Juliette and Lenora.
And from that moment she stepped in, everything began to rot.
"You stupid bitch, say something!" Juliette snarled.
I didn't.
The room had gone silent. Everyone was watching. I glanced at Francesca, hoping—foolishly—that she would rein her daughters in. She only huffed and turned her face away. As if I were invisible.
The maids stood frozen along the walls, fear plain in their trembling bodies and lowered gazes. They could not intervene. They were all terrified of her.
I turned back to Juliette just as she stepped closer, venom dripping from her words. "You're suddenly not afraid of blood? Yet you twisted the knife in his heart the moment you had the chance!"
"How can a medical doctor be afraid of blood?" Lenora scoffed. "Using something so pathetic to hide her incompetence. She's a disgrace to the Marcelli name."
Pathetic. They weren't entirely wrong.
I chose medicine to conquer my fear of blood. I endured anatomy labs, survived brutal rotations, and forced myself through panic attacks in sterile hallways. I pushed and pushed because I knew the kind of world we lived in.
I wanted to be strong, skilled, and prepared enough for him. The one person who mattered. The one reason I worked twice as hard as everyone else was
And when the moment came when he needed me most…He died. In my arms.
I watched him take his last breath, just as I did to my mother.
My heart clenched as the memory ripped through me again. My throat tightened, and I swallowed hard to push back the lumps rising too fast to control.
I lifted my gaze to Juliette, to the hatred she had never once bothered to hide when it came to me.
"I didn't kill him," I croaked. "He's my father. Don't you think I'm in just as much pain as you are?" My voice trembled despite my effort to steady it.
Juliette let out a sharp snort, her face twisting.
"You—"
"Girls," Doctor Jerry interrupted firmly.
Juliette turned on him, her glare hard.
"We must honor the Don's name, even in death," the doctor continued. "He would never tolerate such disrespect if he were alive."
"But he's not alive," Lenora muttered.
"Stupid old man who couldn't mind his own business," Juliette added under her breath.
I shot Doctor Jerry a grateful look as the sisters reluctantly backed down. They wouldn't have stopped if he hadn't stepped in.
—
The following day, the funeral unfolded exactly as I expected. It was dramatic and performative.
Juliette and Lenora threw themselves onto the freshly dug soil as though they might climb into the grave with Father if given the chance. Francesca stood nearby, crying in a way that looked almost elegant.
It was a show for the crowd. For the whispers. For the comparison of who grieved the loudest.
I could feel eyes on me. Cold, judgmental ones because I wasn't weeping or collapsing into the dirt.
I stepped forward to place a single dark crimson rose on Father's casket. Then I turned away from the crowd, from the noise, from the suffocating weight of it all. I needed air.
"Really? Is this the time to show your superiority?"
My body went rigid as I heard her voice. Then I turned to face her. Francesca's cold gaze swept over me, lips curling into a thin sneer.
"A Versace dress worth twenty grand," she murmured. "You certainly know how to draw attention to yourself. I'll give you that, stepdaughter dearest."
"I'm not trying to," I replied evenly.
"Are you not?" She tilted her head slightly, brows lifting. "Just because my darling Leo said something doesn't make it true. The will hasn't been read yet. Do you really think he was foolish enough to leave my daughters and me out of it?"
I drew in a shaky breath and let it out slowly. "I honestly don't know what you're talking about. I'm trying to mourn my father."
"My husband," she corrected sharply.
Francesca began circling me slowly, like a vulture assessing prey. She stopped in front of me and reached up, catching a strand of my hair between her fingers, twirling it lazily. An amused smile played on her lips.
Then she released it abruptly, her expression twisting with disdain. She opened her mouth to continue, but another voice cut through.
"What's going on here?"
Doctor Jerry approached from behind her.
"Nothing," Francesca answered sweetly. Then she leaned closer to me, her voice low enough for only me to hear. "Let's see who wins this battle. You or me."
She turned and sauntered away. As she did, she pretended to stumble. Doctor Jerry instinctively caught her, and she leaned into him theatrically.
I rolled my eyes.
He glanced at me over her shoulder. "Are you alright?" he mouthed.
"I'm fine," I nodded.
Then I turned back toward the funeral, Francesca's words echoing loudly in my mind.
—
It was evening and time for the will to be read.
I excused myself to use the bathroom. I had forced myself to remain seated throughout the entire funeral event, refusing to draw attention by standing or moving around.
All of my father's relatives were present, even those I had never seen before. They had not cared for him in life. They were here for one thing only.
His money.
I finished and moved to the sink, washing my hands when I felt it.
A prickling at the back of my neck. Goosebumps spread across my skin. My stomach twisted as the sensation of being watched settled heavily over me.
I lifted my gaze to the mirror. The window behind me was open, curtains shifting with the breeze. The walk-in shower stood to the side.
Then I saw it. The outline of a figure.
Black mask. Black leather jacket. Black pants. Polished black shoes.
My breath caught in my throat. My fingers tightened around the edge of the sink. I did not look away. I needed to think. Needed an escape.
"What do you want?" I managed to say despite the terror coursing through me. "Leave now, or I'll scream."
That was a mistake.
The figure lunged from hiding. I bolted for the door but didn't make it.
Their hand yanked me back, and my spine slammed hard against the wall. Pain shot through me. I opened my mouth to scream.
In an instant, a cloth pressed firmly over it. I gagged, struggling, clawing at my attacker. My fingers found the mask and tore it free.
For a split second, I saw his face.
But I inhaled too much of the sweet chemical. Instantly, my vision blurred. My head spun. My strength drained away, and my struggle died with it.
"Who are you?" I slurred, my voice thick as I slid down the wall.
His lips moved. I could see them forming words, but I heard nothing.
My lashes fluttered. Darkness crept in from the edges of my sight, swallowing everything slowly.
He crouched in front of me.
Obsidian eyes. A cruel smirk.
And the ring,
The same one Doctor Jerry had given me.
That was the last thing etched into my mind before the darkness closed over me completely.