A girl behind me screams and the doctor says something else. I ignore them and stagger forward. Zia Teresa’s door is open, the cards and flowers and candy exactly where it was. The old woman is still in bed and for a second, I think it’s okay. Then I see her blank brown eyes.

She’s dead and January is gone.

Epilogue

January Whitehall

“You disgusting, degenerate slut.”

I sit across from Mr. Parker in a limousine. The windows are blacked out. If he hits me no one will see.

Zia Teresa is dead. A masked man put his hands around her throat and killed her. I saw him do it. I heard the awful sounds. Adriano is shot. I don’t know if he’s dead but when I was dragged past him, he wasn’t moving.

These are the facts. They can’t be argued with or cried at. They can’t be changed.

Mr. Parker leans forward, steepling his fingers. “Ten years. Ten years I’ve been paying your bitch of a mother for you to get snatched away at our wedding. Millions of dollars down the drain.”

Mr. Parker’s bodyguards have glazed looks on their faces. It seems like my ex-fiancé has been ranting about this a lot since my abduction.

I fix an understanding smile on my face. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Parker.”

“Don’t smirk at me, you little cunt. You know, your mother thinks I stole you. Why the fuck would I do that?” He looks at me expectantly.

“I’m not sure, Mr. Parker.”

“Of course, you’re not, you stupid bitch.” His expression is gleeful. I’m sure he’s been dying to talk to me like this. It was probably hard for him to buy me flowers and take me for walks when this is the relationship he really wanted to have.

He leans in close, tapping a finger to the ruby necklace. “Have you been fucking Eli Morelli?”

His breath is sweet and sour like rancid soda. My throat constricts. “No.”

Mr. Parker gives a high wobbling laugh. “So, you fucked Adiano?”

“I… who?”

He looks at me like I’m a worthless patch of dirt. “Adiano Rossi.”

I smile. “It’s pronounced ‘A-dree-ah-know.’”

Pain explodes across my face.

“You worthless whore,” Parker hisses. “You fucked them. You fucked all four of them, didn’t you?”

My lip is split. I touch the tiny part in my skin, feel the blood drip through like oily water. I was struck by the others, but this feels completely different. When they did it, my pulse picked up and resentment and heat fought for space inside me. Looking into Mr. Parker’s eyes, all I feel is dull, quiet disappointment.

“I’m still a virgin,” I tell him.

“You’re a lying little bitch.”

I lick my upper lip. I hate the taste of blood, but I don’t have any Kleenex and I don’t think anyone is going to give me any. “I swear on my Zia Teresa, I’m still a virgin. None of them slept with me. Nobody has.”