The room filled with anger, with pointing fingers, with voices rising and overlapping. Some cursed Nico openly. Some pitied me. Others simply watched, drawn in by the spectacle like it was something they couldn't look away from.
But Nico?
He stood there, completely unfazed. Not a flicker of guilt. Not a hint of shame. He adjusted his cuff one last time and let his hand fall still.
"Are we done yet?" he asked casually, as if the entire scene was nothing more than an inconvenience.
The room fell silent.
Nico turned his gaze back to me, impatience written all over his face. "So, Seraphina? Are you signing or not? Hurry up. We don't have all day to wait for you."
"Fine," I hissed, the word slipping through clenched teeth. "I'll sign it."
When I finally looked down at the agreement, I couldn't help it. A small chuckle escaped me.
It was almost laughable.
The terms were so simple, so brutally clean. A few thousand dollars. Just enough to survive for a short while. No territory. No claims. No rights. Nothing. A complete erasure of everything I had built, everything I had given. Every favor called in, every alliance brokered, every year spent holding together a dynasty that should have crumbled the day my father let this man through the gates of the Valente compound.
A clean exit.
I picked up the pen and signed my name in a few quick, emotionless strokes, as if I were signing off on something utterly insignificant. The scratch of the nib against parchment was the only sound in the room. Every capo, every associate, every wife and cousin pressed against the walls of that dining hall held their breath as if watching a woman sign her own death warrant.
Nico snatched the papers from my hand immediately, his eyes scanning the page. Then he let out a mocking laugh, loud and unrestrained.
"Good. Great," he said, clearly pleased. "Seraphina, you're our biggest benefactor! Thank you, for handing over the entire Valente empire just like that. My family and I will be living off your generosity for generations."
Giada, glowing with triumph, lifted her wine glass and drained it in one smooth motion. "Honestly, Seraphina," she said with a bright, theatrical smile, "you're like my fairy godmother. I should probably toast to you every year from now on." Her fingers drifted to the hollow of her throat as she said it, two fingertips pressing against the skin there, light as a whisper.