Chapter 3
Gianna grabbed a slice of pie. "Heard you made these yourself, Siena. Why not try a bite?"
Before I could blink, she smashed it into my face.
Crust cracked. Hot jam hit like lava. It clogged my nose, filled my mouth—I couldn't breathe.
Panic tore through me, yanking out one last burst of strength.
"Help!" I choked, voice shredded. "Somebody—HELP ME!"
That finally got their attention.
Carlo stormed over, all fake calm and ice. "What's going on here?"
Gianna froze, that smug grin flipping to fake concern in a heartbeat.
"Oh my God, Siena! How'd you make such a mess eating pie? Here, let me help you clean up."
I tried to back off, but my legs gave out. I stumbled right into her.
She let out a high-pitched shriek and dropped to the floor. "Siena! I was just trying to help—and you shoved me?"
Carlo stormed over, fury flashing in his eyes. "Siena, can you stop humiliating yourself?"
Then he actually looked at me—my skin tinted blue, lips shaking—and for a second, the anger cracked.
"What's wrong with her face? Maybe we should give her the meds?"
He took a step toward me, but Gianna caught his arm.
"Don't let her fool you, Carlo. She's just thirsty. Happens when she's dehydrated."
The second she said 'thirsty', his whole expression softened.
Gianna picked up a glass of clear liquid, her smile sugar-sweet. "Here, Carlo. Give it to her. She'll only drink it if it's from you."
He nodded—because of course he did—and stepped toward me.
The second the rim hit my lips, the scent slammed into me.
Amaretto. Deadly with almond.
Terror surged through me. I jerked my head away.
That tiny act of defiance flipped a switch in him.
"I'm trying to help you, and you're still putting on a show? Enough already!"
Gianna yanked the glass from Carlo's hand and jammed it toward my face. "Let me do it. She needs to learn her lesson."
She forced my jaw open. The liquid scorched its way down my raw throat like acid.
I hit the floor hard, choking, tears blinding me as I coughed and retched.
Gianna laughed, setting the glass down like she deserved applause. "See? A little water and she's magically cured."
Carlo actually nodded. "Guess she really was just thirsty."
He turned to walk off, but I clawed at his pant leg, barely holding on.
"Help... me..." My throat was sandpaper. "My father is... Don Giovanni Suvari..."
Carlo looked down and actually scoffed. "Your dad's the Don? Please. You clip coupons and chase clearance deals. We've been married for a year—don't you think I'd know if you were mafia royalty?"
Laughter exploded around us.
"Somebody's watched way too many mob flicks," someone cracked. "Now she thinks she's the main character."
Gianna lost it, laughing so hard she cried.
"Still clinging to that princess fantasy?" She kicked a crusty chunk of pie at me. "Here's your crown. Go ahead, wear it. Dirty little princess needs a rinse. Lemme help."
She grabbed the Amaretto and dumped it over my head.
The cold liquor drenched my hair and scorched its way down my neck.
Gianna's laugh cut through the room—shrill, smug, victorious. "How's that, princess? Feeling royal yet?"
Carlo leaned against the wall, arms crossed like he was watching a trainwreck. "Gianna, don't overdo it."
Yeah, not worried. Just didn't want blood on his designer shoes.
I was fading fast. Every breath stabbed like broken glass. The air reeked of liquor, almonds, and straight-up evil.
Their voices blurred into one giant, echoing nightmare. My eyes flicked to the wall clock.
9:10.
That was it.
Nobody came. Maybe my family gave up too.
Just as my eyes started to close, the doors slammed open. White light flooded the room.
"Where is Siena Suvari?"
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