Chapter 3

We met at Saint Jude’s Chapel on 14th Street the next morning. Neutral ground.

Elena sat in a dark pew near the altar, wrapped in a black trench coat.

The faint light from the stained-glass windows highlighted the exhaustion on her face.

"I thought you'd bring Frankie," she said without looking back.

"Frankie has a family to protect," I replied, sitting in the pew behind her. "Why did you really take the money fifteen years ago, Elena?"

Elena sat quietly for a long moment. When she spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper.

"Frankie was sitting in my sister’s kitchen with a gun," she said.

"Vincent said I could take the cash and leave, or Sofia would be going to two funerals before her fourth birthday. I was twenty-seven, terrified, and weak. So I ran."

She turned her head to look at me.

"And the wedding?" I asked. "You knew Vincent arranged it."

Elena looked away, her hands tightening in her lap.

"I agreed to it because a Vescari husband could protect her from Vincent. I told myself it was better than leaving her in that house."

"So you sold her twice," I said softly.

"I tried to save her twice!" Elena snapped, her composure slipping.

"You took my place, Emma. You lived in my house, raised my daughter, and signed the orders that kept me out."

"I raised a child who was left behind," I said. "I didn't care about Vincent’s territory. I cared about Sofia."

The heavy oak doors of the chapel creaked open.

Sofia walked down the center aisle, her jacket pulled tight against the morning chill.

She looked pale, but her chin was set high.

She stopped at the communion rail, looking between us.

"I know why you left, Elena," Sofia said, her voice shaking slightly. "And I know why you signed those papers, Emma."

"Elena left when staying became too dangerous. And you stopped asking questions when the truth might cost you your place as my mother."

Neither of us answered.

"Sofia, please," I said, stepping forward. "You don't have to marry Matteo. You applied to Columbia. You can leave."

Sofia let out a harsh, quiet laugh.

"If I walk out alone, Dad sends Frankie and brings me back. If I leave as Matteo’s wife, he can’t touch me without starting a war. Marrying Matteo gets me out of his house."

I stared at her, my throat tight. "You're trading one cage for another."

"It's my choice to make," Sofia said.

Elena looked up at Sofia, her voice trembling.

"There’s something else, Sofia. The black SUV outside your school six years ago... it was mine. I wanted to take you away from Vincent."

"I scared you instead, and your father used my mistake to lock the door forever."

Sofia stared at her biological mother, the blood draining from her face.

The realization hit her like a physical blow: the SUV hadn't been a rival mob threat—it had been Elena.

And Vincent had used Elena's desperate move to make me sign the injunctions.

Everyone had played a part in her cage.

Sofia took a step back. Elena reached out for her hand, but Sofia pulled away.

"Don't," Sofia whispered. "Not yet."

The chapel fell dead quiet.

Sofia looked at the altar, then turned back to face me.

Her eyes were red, but her voice didn't waver.

“I don’t forgive her,” Sofia said. “And I’m still marrying Matteo tomorrow at ten o’clock.”

She took a breath and looked me dead in the eye.

"You can come to the wedding, Emma. But at the altar, I decide who stands beside me."