Giancarlo's voice slid in next, smooth as polished marble and just as cold. "Seraphina can't tell a real heirloom from a forgery. She couldn't tell loyalty from a lie. Is it any wonder some old man whispered a few pretty words and she ended up in his bed? A woman like that, carrying the Genovese name?" He let out a breath that was almost a laugh. "She was never fit to stand beside the Valenti Family. Rosalia, the ring from my mother's vault was always meant for you. You're the only one worthy of wearing it."
Rosalia looked between them, her dark eyes glistening with practiced vulnerability. "Seraphina has done terrible things, I know. But she was kind to me once. She took me in when I had nothing. How can I just abandon her?" Her voice trembled at the edges, delicate as spun glass. "If you two won't do as I ask, if you won't at least keep up appearances for my sake, then I have nothing left to say to either of you. Ever."