Two days after Lucia's return from the De Santis estate, the invitation arrived.
Cream paper. Gold embossing. The De Santis crest pressed into wax the color of dried blood. A garden party, the script announced, in honor of the Feast of San Gennaro. Three days before the main celebration. Carlotta's hand was visible in every detail—the timing, the curated guest list, the pointed inclusion of Alessia's name at the bottom, as if she were an afterthought.
Alessia held the card between her fingers and walked to Enzo's study.
He was at his desk. The heavy silver ring glinted on his finger as he set down his pen. He looked up when she entered and did not look away. The cold distance between them had thawed into something more complicated—not forgiveness, not trust, but a wary, watchful partnership.
"Carlotta has invited us to a garden party," Alessia said. She placed the card on his desk. "She will attack me there. The forged documents Lucia mentioned—this is where she will produce them."
Enzo picked up the card. His dark eyes scanned it once. "Then do not attend," he said.
"If I refuse, she wins. She will say I am afraid. She will say the documents prove her right." Alessia met his gaze. "I am not afraid. I am prepared."
"What do you need?" Enzo asked.
"Lucia attends as my maid," Alessia said. "She knows Carlotta's tells now. She will watch the peripheral guests and identify who Carlotta is working with. And I need you to let me handle it. No guards stepping in unless I signal. Carlotta must believe she has the upper hand until I take it from her."
Enzo leaned back in his chair. The silence stretched. Then he nodded once.
"Carlotta knows your vulnerabilities," Enzo said. "She will aim for the softest target."
"I know," Alessia said. "I am counting on it."
---
The De Santis gardens were immaculate.
Terraced hedges. Marble fountains. Roses in shades of cream and blood-red, their scent thick in the warm afternoon air. Servants moved through the crowd with silver trays of prosecco and delicate pastries. The guests numbered perhaps forty—family heads, their wives, a handful of captains whose loyalty was still for sale.
Alessia walked at Enzo's side, her hand resting on his arm. She wore a gown of dark green silk, simple and severe, no jewelry except the silver locket with Nico's photo hidden beneath the neckline. Lucia followed two paces behind, her maid's uniform crisp, her eyes already moving across the crowd.
Carlotta greeted them at the center of the garden. She wore white linen and diamonds at her throat. Her smile was a blade.
"Alessia," Carlotta said. "I am so pleased you came. I was not certain you would. Given the rumors."
Alessia smiled back, equally cold. "I find rumors are best addressed in person," Alessia said.
Carlotta's gaze flickered toward a cluster of older women near the fountain. "Then you will not mind a small conversation," Carlotta said. "Among friends. To clear the air."
She gestured toward a circle of chairs arranged beneath a pergola draped in wisteria. The older women were already settling into them, their silk dresses rustling, their eyes sharp and hungry.
"Of course," Alessia said.
She released Enzo's arm. His hand brushed her lower back—once, a brief pressure—before he stepped aside.
Alessia walked to the pergola and took the empty seat directly across from Carlotta. The wisteria cast shifting shadows across the stone. The older women leaned forward.
"Word has reached us," Carlotta began, "that there are documents. Documents concerning Alessia De Campo's father. His debts. His crimes. His betrayal of the Moretti family." She turned to Alessia, her smile sharp. "I thought it only fair that you have the opportunity to address them. Before the Feast. Before the whole city hears the truth."
Alessia did not blink. "Show me the documents," Alessia said.
Carlotta's smile wavered. "I do not have them here. But I have been assured—" Carlotta started.
"You have no documents," Alessia said. Her voice was calm, carrying across the pergola. "You have rumors. You have forged papers that will not withstand scrutiny. And you have a personal grievance you have dressed up as a public concern."
The older women exchanged glances. The one in blue silk set down her glass.
"I was told there were documents," the woman in blue said. Her eyes moved to Carlotta. "You promised us proof."
Carlotta's voice sharpened. "There is proof," Carlotta said. "Her father sold information. He destroyed families. The Moretti family knows this. Enzo knows this. He protects her despite her blood."
Alessia leaned forward. The movement was slight, but it drew every eye.
"Let us speak of blood," Alessia said. Her voice was soft now, almost gentle. "Let us speak of the stable boy named Paolo. Let us speak of a summer when Carlotta De Santis was seventeen. Let us speak of a pregnancy her family covered up, a child who did not survive, and a boy who was sent away and never heard from again."
The silence that fell was absolute.
Carlotta's face went white. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. The older women did not move. Even the servants had stopped walking, their trays frozen in the air.
"That is not—" Carlotta started.
"True?" Alessia tilted her head. "Your family's doctor is still alive. He remembers. Your mother's housekeeper told the story to her sister, who told it to her daughter, who works in the kitchens of this very estate. Truth has a way of spreading. You of all people should know that."
Carlotta rose from her chair. Her hands were shaking. The diamonds at her wrists caught the light and scattered it like falling glass.
"You will regret this," Carlotta said. Her voice was low, trembling with fury. "You will regret the day you walked into my world and thought you could survive it."
Alessia stood as well. The two women faced each other under the wisteria, the scent of roses thick in the air, forty guests watching in frozen silence.
"I have regretted many things," Alessia said. "You are not one of them."
She turned and walked back toward Enzo. Behind her, the silence shattered into whispers. The woman in blue silk rose and walked away without a word to her hostess.
Enzo's hand found Alessia's as she reached his side. His dark eyes swept over her face.
"Lucia," Alessia said.
The maid appeared at her elbow. "Yes, signorina?" Lucia asked.
"The woman in blue. Who is she?" Alessia asked.
"Signora Fiore," Lucia said. "A cousin of Don Moretti's mother. She was Carlotta's strongest ally before today." Her voice was quiet, precise. "She will not support Carlotta after what just happened. I saw her face. She is done."
Alessia nodded. "And the others?" Alessia asked.
"Three of the five women in that circle will follow Signora Fiore's lead," Lucia said. "The remaining two are Carlotta's blood relatives. They will not abandon her, but they are not powerful enough to matter alone." She paused. "You cut her support in half in ten minutes."
"Carlotta cut her own support," Alessia said. "I simply handed her the knife."
"We should leave," Enzo said. His hand tightened on hers. "Before she finds another knife to throw."
They walked through the gardens toward the gates. The guests parted before them, their whispers trailing like smoke. At the edge of the terrace, Alessia glanced back.
Carlotta stood alone under the pergola. Her white linen dress was stained with fallen wisteria petals. Her diamonds glittered uselessly at her wrists. Her face was empty, a mask that had cracked and revealed nothing but fury beneath.
She raised her head and met Alessia's eyes across the garden.
Her lips moved. Silent words. A promise.
Then she turned and walked into the house.
---
That night, in the villa, Lucia brought the final report.
"The kitchen maid who carried messages to Carlotta has disappeared," Lucia said. "She left the estate shortly after the party ended. No one knows where she went."
Alessia stood at the window, looking out at the black bay. "Carlotta is cleaning house," Alessia said. "Removing anyone who might be connected to her next move."
"Her next move?" Lucia asked.
"She promised I would regret today. Carlotta does not make empty threats." Alessia pressed her palm to the cool glass. "Whatever she is planning, it will be worse than forged documents and public humiliation. She has been backed into a corner. Cornered animals bite."
Lucia was silent for a moment. "Should I try to find the kitchen maid? Track her?" Lucia asked.
"No," Alessia said. She turned from the window. "That would put you at risk. Carlotta knows you are loyal to me now. She will not try to recruit you again. But she will try to recruit someone else. Someone I do not see coming."
"How do we prepare for an attack we cannot see?" Lucia asked.
Alessia thought of the bloodstain on the marble floor of Enzo's execution room. She thought of the debtor's daughter, protected now. She thought of every tell she had ever catalogued, every pattern she had ever mapped.
"We watch," Alessia said. "And we wait. And when she moves, we will be ready."
She did not know that Carlotta had already moved. That the kitchen maid was not gone but repositioned. That a small glass vial had changed hands in the garden, passed from Carlotta's palm to another's, hidden beneath a napkin on a silver tray.
She did not know that the poison was already inside the villa walls.
But she would learn. Soon.