Chapter 4 - The Suite in the North Tower
The transition from prisoner to ghost-queen was disorienting and terrifying.
Elias did not return Seraphina to the modest servant quarters on the third floor. Instead, he led her up the private elevator into the North Tower—a wing of the estate that had remained shuttered behind heavy mahogany doors since his wife had passed away three years prior.
The room was vast, dominated by floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the sapphire expanse of the Mediterranean. A fire crackled in an ornate marble hearth. Silk sheets draped a king-sized bed, and the air was perfumed with amber and fresh eucalyptus.
A knock sounded at the door before it swung open.
Leo stood on the threshold, clutching a stuffed gray wolf under his arm. His wide, tear-stained eyes locked onto Seraphina, and with a shrill cry of pure relief, he sprinted across the polished parquet floor.
“Seraphina!”
She dropped to her knees, catching the boy in her arms. The cashmere coat fell slightly off her shoulder as she buried her face in his soft curls. “Leo… oh, sweetheart, I’m here. I’m here.”
“Papa said you had to go to the doctor because you were tired,” Leo sobbed into her collar. “He said you were hiding in the quiet room.”
Over the boy’s head, Seraphina’s eyes met Elias’s. He leaned against the doorframe, watching them with an expression so fiercely protective it looked almost like pain.
“I was resting,” Seraphina lied gently, smoothing back Leo’s messy dark hair. “Just like your Papa said. But I’m fine now.”
“Promise you won't play hide-and-seek without me?”
“I promise.”
After Leo was tucked into the adjoining room, clutching a warm glass of milk, Elias walked over to the drinks cart by the window and poured two fingers of amber Scotch into a crystal tumbler. He didn't offer her any; he downed it in one long, searing swallow.
“My uncle Mateo knows,” Elias said without turning around.
Seraphina stood by the fireplace, the warmth finally thawing her stiff limbs. “Knows what?”
“Marco went straight to him after I threw him out of the cellar. He told Mateo about the scar.” Elias set the glass down with a sharp clack. “Mateo was my father’s chief lieutenant on the night of the fire. He was the one who fired the flares that ignited the fuel. If he realizes the last living Valenti is under my roof, he will call a meeting of the Five Families before midnight.”
“Then let me leave,” Seraphina urged, stepping toward him. “Give me a fake passport. Put me on a freighter to South America. I never wanted this war. I don't care about the Valenti name, or the ports, or the money! I just want to live!”
Elias turned, his gray eyes burning in the firelight. In two long strides, he closed the distance between them, stopping so close she could smell the peat of the Scotch and the crisp linen of his shirt.
“You think you can run from them?” he murmured, his voice dipping low. “The moment your face appears on an airport scanner or a border terminal, Mateo’s hitmen will put a bullet through the back of your skull. You survived for twenty years because Clara erased you from history. But the seal is broken, Giuliana. They know you're alive.”
“Then what do you propose, Elias? You keep me locked in this tower forever?”
“No,” Elias said, reaching out to gently tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers were warm against her skin, sending an electric jolt straight through her veins. “I am going to do what I should have done twenty years ago. I am going to crown you.”
Her breath caught. “You’re insane.”
“Mateo’s power rests on the old syndicate charter. According to the original treaty of 1984, the Valenti heir holds veto power over the Council’s leadership. If you claim your inheritance, Mateo has no legal right to challenge me. And I have every right to execute him for treason against your family.”
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“And what happens when the Council demands proof?”
Elias leaned in, his lips inches from her temple. “We attend the Winter Gala at the Casino de Monte-Carlo on Friday. You will wear the Valenti diamonds. And you will walk into that ballroom on my arm.”
