Chapter 2 - The Unmasking
Adrian didn't answer immediately. He rolled his chair into the center of the spacious, dimly lit room, his eyes sweeping over her defensive posture with cool, analytical precision. The room was luxurious—adorned with rich mahogany furniture, deep crimson velvet drapes, and a king-sized bed—but to Nora, it felt like an execution chamber.
“I lock my doors because I have forty armed men patrolling my perimeter, three rival families trying to take my territory, and a traitor inside my own ranks,” Adrian said smoothly, resting his hands on his lap. “Security is a habit, Nora. Not an threat.”
Nora kept her right hand clamped firmly over her cheek, her fingers covering the peeling silicone edge near her eye. “I want to go to my separate room now. You said—”
“I said I keep my agreements,” Adrian interrupted, his voice calm yet carrying the weight of an iron vault. “And I will. But first, we are going to clear the air about the farce that took place in the cathedral today.”
Nora’s chest heaved. “What farce?”
Adrian leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees. Despite sitting down, his broad build and command made him dominate the space effortlessly. “Salvatore Barone owes me forty million dollars in unpaid transit tariffs along the southern canal. He promised me his eldest daughter, Celeste, to seal a peace agreement that would keep his territory from being burned to the ground.”
He paused, his dark eyes locking onto her shielded face. “Instead, he sent me you. The 'scarred, illegitimate outcast' he kept hidden in his kitchen for ten years. He assumed I would be too humiliated by my own physical condition to voice an objection. He thought a Don in a wheelchair would accept whatever scraps he was thrown.”
“I didn't ask to be sent here!” Nora cried out, her voice cracking under the intense pressure. “If you hate the arrangement, cancel the contract! Send me back to Oak Brook!”
“I don't hate the arrangement,” Adrian said softly, a dark, dangerous spark igniting in his gray eyes. “In fact, I find it infinitely more intriguing than marrying your vapid, airheaded sister. But I despise being lied to.”
Adrian reached into his breast pocket, pulled out a small black remote control, and pressed a button. Across the room, heavy automated security shutters slid down over the large windows, sealing the room in absolute acoustic isolation.
“Now,” Adrian said, turning his chair a fraction closer to her. “Take your hand off your face.”
Nora backed up until her spine hit the edge of the vanity. “No.”
“Nora.”
“I said no!” she gasped out, tears of terror finally overflowing her left eye. “Please, just let me go to the bathroom! I need to—”
“Take your hand down, or I will call my guards inside to hold you down while I remove it myself,” Adrian said. There was no anger in his voice, only an absolute, terrifying certainty that he would execute the threat without hesitation.
Nora trembled violently. She looked at the locked door, then at the man sitting before her—a man who controlled an underground empire through sheer, unyielding willpower. Realizing she had run out of ground to retreat, her hand slowly dropped from her face.
The right side of her artificial mask was hanging loosely. The heat and sweat had completely dissolved the glue around her eyebrow and temple, causing a flap of rubbery synthetic flesh to fold downward, exposing the completely flawless, unblemished, ivory skin beneath it.
Adrian stared at her.
For the first time since she had met him, Adrian Vitali looked genuinely stunned. His jaw tightened, his brow furrowing as he absorbed the sight. He didn't look disgusted; he looked intensely baffled.
Slowly, without taking his eyes off her, Adrian rolled his chair forward until he was parked directly in front of her. He reached out a gloved hand. Nora flinched, pulling her head back, but his movement was remarkably gentle.
His long, gloved fingers caught the edge of the hanging silicone patch.
“Don't...” Nora whispered, her voice breaking. “Please... if they find out I showed you, they’ll stop paying for Ruth...”
Adrian paused, his eyes narrowing. “Who is Ruth?”
“My mother... my foster mother,” Nora sobbed, the heavy emotional strain of ten years of psychological imprisonment shattering inside her. “She has severe dementia. Salvatore pays her nursing home bills. If I ruin their plan... he’ll cut her off...”
Adrian didn't say a word. With a quick, precise motion, he peeled the silicone patch off her temple, pulling the entire right-side face piece away from her skin. It came off with a soft, tearing sound of dried glue, dropping onto the carpet like a discarded piece of rubber.
Nora stood before him under the bright chandelier lights.
With the artificial scar gone, her face was completely restored to its natural, breathtaking beauty. The perfect symmetry, the high cheekbones, the delicate curve of her jawline—she was the exact, spitting image of Celeste Barone, yet possessed an undeniable softness and depth in her eyes that Celeste could never fake.
Adrian reached up again, his bare thumb brushing against the smooth, unblemished skin of her right cheek where the fake burn had rested seconds ago. His touch was warm, send chills running down her spine.
“Ten years,” Adrian murmured, his voice laced with a lethal, simmering fury that wasn't directed at her. “They made you wear fake scar tissue for ten years?”
Nora swallowed hard, tears tracing down her smooth skin. “Celeste... Celeste didn't want a double. She didn't want anyone asking why Salvatore had two identical daughters. So they built the scar. They forced me to wear thick glasses and dye my hair. They turned me into a monster so she could be the princess.”
Adrian looked down at the rubber patch lying on the floor, then looked back up into her eyes. The sheer depth of his cold, calculating fury made the air in the room feel heavy.
“They didn't turn you into a monster, Nora,” Adrian said, his voice dropping into a register that sent shivers down her spine. “They gave me a weapon. And they don't even know it yet.”
Before Nora could process his words, she remembered the item tucked inside her small satin handbag sitting on the vanity.
The dark glass bottle. The Amaro.
She looked from Adrian’s cold, calculating face down to the bag.
“Celeste gave me something before I left,” Nora whispered, her voice shaking as she picked up the bottle. “She told me it was a family tradition. She told me to make sure you drank a full glass before midnight tonight. Before we went to sleep.”
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Adrian’s eyes locked onto the wax-sealed dark glass bottle. A slow, terrifying smile spread across his harsh features—a smile that promised total, uncompromising ruin to his enemies.
“Did she now?” Adrian whispered softly. “How thoughtful of my new sister-in-law.”
