The Rejected Principessa Returns novel Chapter 16

Chapter 7

When I returned to the Andolini family compound, Andrew was embroiled in a territorial dispute, too busy to see me. So, my sister-in-law, Sophia, took me to our family’s villas in Sicily instead. We wandered through ancient streets, shopping for things that couldn’t be bought with blood money, and slowly, the icy knot in my

heart began to thaw.

If Lewis hadn’t shown up at the heavily guarded gates of our estate, I might have almost forgotten the sound

of his voice.

From the upstairs window of the main house, I saw him standing at the imposing iron gates, holding elaborately wrapped gifts. A dull, phantom ache flickered in my chest-a relic of a love long dead.

Sophia noticed my stillness and came to stand beside me, her voice gentle. “Since your brother cut off Lewis’s access to the port authorities and his weapons supplier, that woman, Victoria, has been crawling out of the woodwork. She’s been trying to renegotiate terms, begging for a sit-down. But she knows her place.”

She never dares to come to the house, only ambushes Andrew’s men at their clubs. Your brother hasn’t granted her an audience. Now it seems Lewis’s organization is truly feeling the pinch, so he’s come himself,

hat in hand. Do you want me to have the guards let him in?”

She must have seen the complex shadow that passed over my face.

I shook my head, the gesture firm. “No. Andrew isn’t a reckless man. If Lewis could offer him something of unparalleled value-something no one else could-then perhaps he’d listen. Otherwise, why would my brother

bother with a sinking ship?”

Sophia nodded, placing a comforting hand on my arm. “Your brother only worries that you haven’t fully let go

of the past.”

“There’s nothing left to let go of,” I said, my voice even. “Since the divorce papers were signed, Lewis hasn’t reached out once. Not a call, not a message. That silence speaks volumes. If I hold no place in his heart, why should I reserve one for him in mine? Don’t worry, Sophia. I’m fine. Whatever business decision Andrew

makes, it’s his alone.”

She gave a faint, understanding smile and instructed the security detail to send Lewis away.

But the next day, he came again.

This time, the gifts were different-rarer, more personal, the kind of thoughtful, detailed gestures that had once made him seem so warm, so dependable.

For a whole week, he appeared like clockwork. When he was denied entry, he would wait by the gates. Sometimes he remained there from first light until long after dusk, a picture of penitent determination.

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Honestly… if he had been there to ask for me, for another chance, to beg for my forgiveness… I might not

have had the heart to let him stand there in vain.

But I knew, with a certainty that chilled my soul, he was only there for business.

Finally, Sophia called Andrew and asked him to resolve the situation, not wanting me to be confronted with

this painful specter day after day.

Andrew handled it with cold efficiency. He didn’t reveal our familial connection. Instead, he sent one of his

Consiglieri to meet with Lewis, delivering a clear, unequivocal message: The Corleone family was no longer

a viable partner. Their operations were inefficient, their security compromised, and their reputation was

becoming a liability. The Andolini family would be seeking alliances elsewhere.

Lewis, ever the pragmatist, accepted the verdict without public protest. The message was from a business

superior, not a jilted brother-in-law. There was no one to fight.

After that, he stopped appearing at our gates.

But fate, it seemed, had a cruel sense of humor.

At a high-stakes gathering hosted by Andrew-a lavish party doubling as a showcase for new… logistical

channels-countless underworld elites were in attendance. I had nothing better to do, so I tagged along,

content to stay in the background.

Sophia suggested I wear something that commanded respect, but I couldn’t be bothered. I wore simple, understated clothes, planning to sample the exquisite food and slip away unnoticed.

Halfway through my meal, a sharp, deliberate shove from behind sent me stumbling. The glass of sparkling water in my hand sloshed, drenching the elegant gown of a formidable-looking woman I recognized as Signora Rossi, a respected figure from an old-money family with deep political ties.

I quickly apologized, my manners automatic.

Before she could respond, a sickeningly familiar voice cut through the murmuring crowd.

“Signora Rossi, such a pity. That is a genuine Scavia silk gown. The cost to replace it must be astronomical.”

I turned and saw Victoria, draped in a striking, blood-red designer dress.

It had been a while since I’d last seen her, and the sight was even more grating than I remembered.

“My sincerest apologies, Signora Rossi,” I said again, quickly. “Please, send me the bill. I will cover the cost of

the cleaning, or the dress itself.”

Signora Rossi was dabbing at the stain with a napkin, about to reply, when Victoria cut her off with a

Chapter 7

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venomous sneer.

“Cover it? My dear, that dress cost more than most people make in a year. Do you really think someone like you can just afford that?”

Signora Rossi’s eyes narrowed. She stopped dabbing and instead stepped slightly in front of me, a protective,

almost maternal gesture that surprised me.

“Victoria,” she said, her voice sharp enough to draw the attention of those nearby. “My eyesight is perfectly

adequate. It was you who bumped into this young woman, causing her drink to spill on me. At no point did I

suggest she should pay. Why are you so eager to involve yourself?”

Victoria froze, clearly not expecting to be so directly and publicly called out.

I stood to the side, my lips curling into a cold, silent smile. She still thought of me as a powerless little girl. But Signora Rossi was Sophia’s godmother; she had held me as a baby. Even without my brother’s last name or his fearsome reputation, she would never side with someone like Victoria against family.

Victoria swallowed hard, forcing a brittle smile. “I was merely offering my concern. I didn’t push anyone…”

Signora Rossi let out a short, derisive laugh that carried through the sudden quiet. “I know what I felt. But don’t trouble yourself. I am not asking for compensation. Though, given that you’re clinging to a man who has lost his favor and whose organization is teetering on the brink of collapse, I can understand why you might be so… financially anxious.”

Victoria bit her lip so hard I thought it might bleed, her eyes glistening with a mixture of rage and humiliation as Signora Rossi’s words struck their target with deadly precision.

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