Then, she caught sight of Serena. Her younger sister sat stiffly at the far side of the room, arms crossed tightly over her chest, her posture rigid with barely concealed fury. Arabella's heart tightened as she watched Serena's gaze lock with Gabriele's across the room. The tension between them was palpable, the weight of unspoken words thick in the air.

Her father noticed Arabella's glance and followed it, his expression tightening, mouth pressing into a hard line. Serena's unhappiness with her arranged engagement was no secret. The agreement had been in place for years, but recently, Serena had pleaded with their father to break it off. He had refused. Since then, something in her had dimmed. Arabella had no illusions about how her sister felt. She'd seen it in the way Serena looked at Gabriele—not with affection, but with silent heartbreak and growing resentment. And Gabriele—he wasn't even trying to hide his disrespect. If anything, it felt like he was flaunting it. Every flirtation, every careless smirk seemed designed to humiliate her. It was as though he took pleasure in Serena's pain, as if he wanted her to understand exactly what kind of man she was being bound to.

But there was no room for weakness tonight. Arabella's duty came first, as it always had.

She looked away from her sister, focusing instead on her father's familiar face. Don Farina raised his glass, commanding attention with a gesture that pulled the room into silence.

"Loyalty, honor, and family," he said, his voice low and steady. "To the future of the Famiglia."