Chapter 6. The Doll

Morning light spilled through the tall windows, warm and golden, gilding the marble floors of the Altieri mansion.

Margherita adjusted the strap of her ballet bag and stepped into the hallway. Two guards fell into step behind her—silent, impassive shadows, as always.

It was supposed to be another morning like the others since her return—class, silence, routine. She was grateful for the dull repetition; at least it gave her something to focus on besides the walls.

She had just reached the foot of the staircase when a voice stopped her.

“Margherita.”

Simona’s tone was calm, but something in it made her heart tighten.

Margherita turned. “Yes?”

“Come here, cara.”

Simona stood in the drawing room, dressed in pale silk, her hair perfectly arranged. The air was thick with the scent of roses—vases of them everywhere, scattered across the room like spilled blush.

Margherita hesitated on the threshold. “What’s going on?”

Simon