I opened my mouth to protest, but all I could do was follow my father as he all but dragged Francesca away.
Father and Francesca stood in the foyer, my father a foot from the smaller girl, his hand swinging between them and his hushed voice slightly raised in clear anger.
“I don’t understand what’s going on,” Amara whispered, and I shook my head in response. I didn't know if she was even talking to me.
And then Father was striding away from Francesca, who was now crying heavily by the front door and staring at him as if he’d just torn her heart out.
“Claudia,” my father barked out, and I jumped. “Deal with this and get her out of the house. She’s causing a scene.”
I looked at Amara with eyes that felt like damn saucers, confusion filling me. I licked my lips and went over to Francesca.
I stopped in front of her and instantly could smell the alcohol on her. She sobbed, fat tears coming from her red, swollen eyes and sliding down her pink cheeks.
“Francesca… are you drunk?” I whispered and took her hand. She wasn’t even looking at me, but staring over my shoulder and back at the sitting room. “What’s wrong? You can talk to me.”
She hiccupped but still didn’t speak. I gave her hand a squeeze and sensed someone come to stand beside me. Amara’s expression was one of empathy as she stared at Francesca.
“Francesca?” Amara said in a gentle voice, and I took a step back, giving my sister room.
For a long moment Francesca just stared off at nothing. She had to be in shock, but then she blinked rapidly and sniffed, wiping her cheeks and straightening her shoulders.
“I’m sorry. I’m a mess. I just… I felt so out of control. I walked out of my house and didn’t realize I was here until I was knocking on the door.” She wiped away a few more errant tears again.
Amara glanced over at me, where I still stood several feet back, and then at the sitting room, where everyone else was.
“I’m sorry if my father said something that upset you further. He’s… well, he’s like all the men in our lives.” Amara’s expression was kind and soft.
But my heart started beating harder, and this tingling spread over my skin at the way Francesca stared at Amara with narrowed eyes and an expression of pure hatred.
Francesca didn’t speak, just kept looking at Amara as if she were the worst thing created. Gone was the girl who appeared to have a broken heart, and in her place was one who appeared to have not even one.
I took a step closer.
“Look at you,” Francesca sneered. “Got everything you wanted. A marriage where your husband clearly treats you well.” She pursed her lips. “The way I’ve seen him look at you…” She shook her head. “A man who would level anything or anyone who tried to hurt you. He’d never toss you away.”
What in the hell is going on?
“Is everything okay?” Amara’s brows were furrowed. She lifted her hand and placed it over her heart.
“This is all your fault. It has been from the very beginning.”
“I’m sorry about what happened to Edoardo.”
I felt my brows lift to my hairline. God, was this what it was all about? Did Francesca blame Amara for Edoardo’s death? Oh God. That had to be it.
“It was a ‘wrong place at the wrong time’ kind of thing. I know how hard this must be for you, especially since you can’t tell anyone about your relationship or how you felt about him.” Amara’s voice was still so soft but filled with so much sympathy.
Francesca slowly shook her head. “Edoardo?” She chuckled humorlessly again. “You think this is about him?”
“I—” Amara looked even more confused.
“No, this is about how you ruined everything.” Francesca’s voice was high-pitched. “Do you think these tears are for Edoardo? Stupid bitch. No, I’m not crying because he died. I’m crying because Marco found out what I was doing behind his back with that low-life foot soldier.”
My body tensed, my eyes widened, and I swore my heart stopped beating.
What did my father have to do with this? I looked toward the sitting room again to where Marco stood. He spoke with Nikolai, but the longer I stared at the man who I shared half my DNA with, the more my thoughts started turning.
“I don’t understand,” Amara said, and I snapped my attention toward my sister. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You were afraid my father would find out about you and Edoardo? Why would he care?” She held her hands out, palms up, shaking her head.
“Are you really that dense? You don’t see the truth here?” Francesca took a small step toward Amara, and it felt like everything started rolling in slow motion. “Really think about it, Amara. Really think about what I’m telling you right now.” She gave a humorless laugh and shook her head. “I have nothing now. Nothing to lose. I don’t care who knows the truth.”