For seven years, I took knives for you. I handled the things you couldn't let see the light of day. I managed the Corrado household so you never had to. The soldiers' disputes, the wives who needed settling, the books that couldn't be shown to anyone outside these walls.
We stopped owing each other a long time ago.
The next morning.
I followed Domenico's instructions and had the maid deliver the Starlight couture gown to Olimpia's room.
Olimpia made a point of having her door left wide open.
As I passed through the hallway, I saw her in front of the mirror, twirling in the gown that clearly didn't fit her, the fabric bunching and pulling in all the wrong places.
She picked up a pair of scissors and, without a second's hesitation, cut away the most intricate panel of crystal-beaded tulle from the hem.
"This design is so dated. It'll look better shorter." Olimpia pouted at the maid standing beside her.
The maid stole a cautious glance toward me in the doorway and said nothing.
I didn't stop. I walked straight to the kitchen.