What followed was only confirmation of what I already knew: that there was no place for me in this world of blood oaths and arranged alliances. Not as Elena Ashford—the overlooked daughter, the inconvenient bride, the shadow that Silvia had so effortlessly eclipsed.
But perhaps, in the Land of No Return, I could become someone else entirely.
When I arrived at the Corleone estate, the sit-down had already begun.
Laughter drifted from beneath the vaulted corridor—warm, familiar, intimate. The sound of family. I paused at the entrance, my hand resting on the carved mahogany doorframe.
Silvia was inside.
She sat beside the long table as if she had always belonged there, composed and luminous in a way that made the crystal chandeliers seem dim by comparison. She was speaking with Don Vittorio and Donna Diana Corleone, her voice pitched to that perfect register of respect and warmth. She had changed into a tailored dress of deep burgundy, a silk shawl draped artfully over her shoulders, and she looked more like the future Donna of this house than I ever had.