The gown shimmered like midnight silk as Seraphina stood before the mirror, fastening the last piece of her disguise.
Her fingers glided across the artificial skin she had grafted onto herself, the mask so perfect it gave her a new face, a stranger's face.
She tilted her head, studying her reflection, her lips curving into a smile both venomous and triumphant.
"Luca Morano," she whispered to the glass. "My sweet darling brother. So gentle… so blind.
You always thought blood bound us, but you forget blood is the very thing that burns the deepest."
The laughter that escaped her throat was low and sharp, carrying no joy.
She adjusted her gown, smoothing its folds, and whispered again, "I want my share in Father's empire… or perhaps everything."
With one last look at her fabricated skin, Seraphina slipped out of the bathroom.
She blended into the corridors of the Morano mansion, her arm entwined with that of a young man she had bribed to act as her escort.
