"Do as I said." I lifted my chin, letting the ice creep into my tone—the voice of a woman who had finally stopped pretending. "If there are questions, I will answer to Don Giorgio personally."
They did not dare press further. Within moments, they had gathered the gowns and withdrawn, the door closing behind them with a soft click.
The room fell silent once more, yet my chest felt weighted with stones. Giorgio thought a few expensive gowns could paper over his betrayal, could dress up this farce of an alliance in silk and pearls. But I had long understood that the person he truly wished to adorn had never been me.
Everything was already too late.
Another knock came—softer this time, almost hesitant.
Marion slipped through the door, her face drawn with the particular anxiety of someone carrying dangerous information. She was one of the few in the Ashford household who had remained neutral in the silent war between Silvia and myself, her loyalty given to neither sister but to some private code of her own.
"Elena." She kept her voice low, barely above a whisper. "Don't say I told you this. This afternoon, one of our people saw Giorgio near the western cliffs."