Bianca's Pov

The next morning, I left the house without telling anyone. The wheelman dropped me off at the cemetery, and I walked straight to his grave without stopping.

I didn't have the strength to hesitate anymore.

"Master…" My voice came out hoarse as I stood in front of the tombstone.

For a moment, I just stared at his name, my chest tightening in a way that made it hard to breathe. The morning fog sat low between the headstones, thick enough to muffle the sound of the city beyond the iron fence. In here, nothing moved. Even the crows on the mausoleum roof were quiet.

"I'm leaving," I said quietly. "This time, I won't come back."

My fingers brushed against the cold stone, and the memories came all at once — his voice, his patience, the way he used to guide my hand when I painted. Gabriel D'Angelo. The only man in the Family who had ever looked at me and seen something worth protecting without expecting a debt in return.

"I found out the truth," I continued, my voice shaking despite myself. "I know who killed you."

My throat tightened.

"And he knew too."

The words hurt more when spoken out loud.

"I trusted him… and he protected her."

A tear slid down before I could stop it.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I couldn't protect anything. Not you… not my child…"

My chest tightened painfully. My fingers drifted to the pale mark where my wedding ring used to sit, pressing against the bare skin until the knuckle ached.

"If you were still here…" My voice faltered. "You wouldn't have let anyone treat me like this."

My voice broke completely this time. For a second, I couldn't speak at all. Then I forced the words out.

"But I won't let it end like this."

I took a step back, my chest rising and falling unevenly. I forced my hand away from the ring mark. I had chosen.

"This is the last time I come here."

I turned and walked away. I didn't look back.

I barely made it out of the cemetery gate when a van stopped abruptly beside me. Before I could react, the door slid open and rough hands grabbed me, dragging me inside.

"Let go—!"

A cloth was pressed over my mouth, cutting off my voice. The sharp chemical smell filled my nose, and within seconds, my strength gave out.

The last thing I saw before everything went dark was Celia Bellandi's unconscious body slumped against the van's far wall.

—

When I woke up, my head throbbed painfully.

The room was dim, the air damp and suffocating. Somewhere a pipe dripped against concrete. My hands were tied behind me, and the rough floor beneath me sent a chill through my body. A warehouse. The kind of place where men disappeared and nobody filed a report.

Voices echoed nearby.

"She's awake."

"Good. Call him."

A phone was put on speaker.

Dante Falcone's voice came through almost immediately, tense and sharp. "Who is this?"

"We have two women," one of the kidnappers said casually. "Celia and Bianca. One hundred million for each of them."

I froze. My heart pounded so loudly I could barely hear anything else.

With those words, the call ended abruptly. The kidnappers turned to stare at us. Celia was sobbing pitifully.

I didn't know how much time had passed when the door suddenly opened again.

I lifted my head weakly to see Dante. He looked disheveled, his hair slightly messy, his shirt wrinkled like he had rushed here without thinking. No soldiers flanking him. No consigliere. Just the Don of the Falcone Family standing in a warehouse doorway like a man who had driven here alone.

His eyes scanned the room before landing on me. Relief flickered across his face.

"Bianca…" he said, stepping closer.

My throat tightened instantly. He actually came for me.

"I brought the money," he continued quickly, his voice low, almost rushed. "Just hold on a little longer, okay? I'll get you out of here."

My fingers twitched against the rough rope binding my wrists.

For a moment, hope flared in my chest but it died quickly with his next words.

"Release Celia."

Those words echoed louder than anything else.

I looked at him.

"You chose her," I said quietly.

He froze.

"It's not like that—" he started.

But even he didn't sound convinced.

"I didn't have enough time," he added quickly. "The money… I could only arrange part of it. I had to get Celia out first, she—"

"She's dying," I finished for him.

The same excuse again.

My chest tightened painfully.

"And what about me?" I asked.

"I'll come back for you," he said finally, his voice firm now, like he was trying to convince both of us. "Just endure it for a while longer."

Celia's voice trembled beside me. "No… Dante, don't do this. I don't want anything to happen to her…"

"You're too good for this world, Celia," Dante said to her, then he turned to me. "I'll be back."

Then he turned and left with Celia without sparing me a second glance.

I lowered my head slightly, my chest tightening until it hurt to breathe.

What was the point of pretending now?

He had already proven it.

He chose her life over mine.

Just like he chose her child over mine.

"Looks like your man doesn't love you that much."

Laughter filled the room.

Rough hands grabbed my arm, pulling me up harshly before throwing me back down again. Pain shot through my side, sharp enough to make my vision blur.

"Wait," one of them said, crouching in front of me. "Did you see that? He came all the way here… and still left you behind."

Another laugh.

"Must feel good."

I clenched my teeth, my body trembling as I tried to steady my breathing.

My chest rose and fell unevenly, my fingers shaking uncontrollably as the weight of everything pressed down on me.

They didn't need to touch me to hurt me. Dante already had.

Time lost meaning after that.

They dragged me, stripped me bare, flogged me for hours then left me cold without food or water, mocking me every time I struggled to stay conscious. The warehouse held the sound of it, the wet crack of leather against skin coming back off the walls a half-second later like the building itself was keeping count.

They didn't stop and I lost track of time. I only knew pain.

Every time I thought it was over, it came again. My body couldn't keep up.

My breathing turned uneven, my chest rising and falling too fast, too shallow like it couldn't get enough air.

"Stay awake," someone laughed. "Don't pass out yet."

My fingers scraped weakly against the floor. I was so cold. I curled in on myself, but it didn't help.

Nothing helped.

"Where's that man now?" another voice mocked. "Didn't he say he'd come back?"

A laugh burst out of someone.

"She is so pathetic."

My chest tightened violently. I couldn't breathe.

I tried but it felt like something was crushing me from the inside.

My vision blurred as tears slipped out uncontrollably. I pressed my forehead against the cold floor, my shoulders trembling.

I didn't know how long it had been when the door was suddenly kicked open.

"Police! Don't move!"

Voices shouted and footsteps rushed in. Someone cut the ropes binding my wrists.

"Bianca!"

I forced my eyes open.

"Nina…" I whispered.

My best friend's face came into view, pale and shaken. "I'm here. You're safe now."

I tried to respond but my voice wouldn't come out as I gave in to the darkness.

Bianca's Pov

When I opened my eyes I was in the hospital again. My body felt heavy, every movement dragging against something deep and sore. My throat was dry, my lips cracked.

"Bianca…"

I turned my head slowly.

Nina was staring at me. Her eyes were red, like she hadn't slept.

"You're awake," she said, grabbing my hand tightly. "Do you know how long you've been out?"

I tried to speak. My voice came out weak and hoarse.

"…how long?"

"Two days."

My fingers stilled.

Two days? I had to leave the following day.

"And Dante?" I asked.

Nina's expression changed.

"He didn't come," she said quietly.

The words didn't hurt as much as I expected. Maybe because I already knew.

Nina's grip tightened. "Why are you still with him, Bianca? After everything? He isolated you from everyone. He made you cut me off. And you still—"

"I'll be fine," I said softly.

Nina nodded, but she didn't say another word. She gave me my phone instead.

"It's been buzzing non-stop for two days. I don't think it's Dante though," she said.

I collected my phone and saw several worried text messages from my Ashford.

Where are you, Bianca?

I'm worried about you.

I've arranged for you to leave tomorrow evening. If I don't hear back from you by nightfall I'll send men myself.

I sent him a quick reply. I'm fine, Grandpa, just a slight hiccup. I need to round up things here today so I can leave tomorrow. See you soon.

After sending the message and assuring Nina that I was fine and that she could go home, I traced the doctor's office and went in.

He looked up, annoyed—until he saw me. His face was drained of color.

"You—"

I stepped inside and closed the door. Then I placed my phone on the table and started a video recording.

"My name is Bianca Moretti," I said calmly. "Blood heiress to the Moretti Family."

His lips trembled.

"I'll give you one chance," I continued. "Tell me the truth."

"I… I don't know what—"

"You don't want me as your enemy," I warned.

His hands started shaking.

"I'll destroy everything you have," I added quietly. "Your license. Your career. Your family won't be safe from what comes after."

"I'll talk!" he said quickly.

"Say it."

His voice shook.

"Celia's child… didn't need the transplant."

My breathing stopped.

"What?"

"Her son was fine," he stammered. "There was no life-threatening condition. It wasn't necessary."

I stared at him, my brain refusing to understand.

"Say it again."

"The baby didn't need it!" he cried. "Celia insisted! She said she wanted… she wanted your child gone."

The room tilted. My fingers gripped the edge of the table.

So my son didn't have to die at all.

My legs gave out. I caught myself on the table, my entire body shaking violently now.

"So you killed an innocent child for nothing," I whispered, my voice trembling.

Tears blurred my vision as the doctor fell to his knees.

"She threatened my family! I had no choice—"

"You had a choice and you chose to kill my child!" I yelled.

He broke down completely.

"I'm sorry! Please—"

"I won't spare you."

I picked up my phone and called the consigliere-lawyer.

"I've found the doctor and he's confessed. Have him arrested, I have evidence to back up his crimes."

—

When I got back to the Falcone estate I braced myself. I needed to keep a neutral expression so they wouldn't suspect anything.

But when I stepped into the sitting room I saw all of them waiting for me. Dante, Celia, and my adoptive Marchetti.

"What did you do?" my mother snapped.

My heart skipped a bit as I wondered if maybe they'd somehow caught onto my plans.

"What are you talking about?"

"You set it up!" my father shouted. "The kidnapping! Just to get attention!"

I exhaled inwardly. It was just another one of Celia's cheap tricks.

"You even endangered Celia!" my mother continued. "Do you know how fragile she is?"

Fragile? I almost laughed.

"How do you even know I did what you're accusing me of?" I asked, rolling my eyes.

Dante stepped forward, his eyes cold. The gold saint medal in his hand had gone completely still.

"The kidnappers were caught and they confessed that you hired them!" Dante snapped.

Celia stumbled forward, "Please, sister, spare me."

"This is your last warning," Dante said coldly. "Behave yourself. Or I'll make you regret it."

Then he placed the baby in my arms.

"Take care of him and make yourself useful. We're going out and will be back soon," he said.

With those words, they all walked out of the house leaving me alone with the baby.

I looked down at the baby. The baby was warm and breathing softly, he was alive.

My arms tightened slightly and my chest burned as the child made baby noises.

My son wasn't alive because this baby's mother had him killed. My vision blurred as I pressed my lips together, trying to stop it.

But the tears came anyway and soon the baby started crying with me.

"I'm sorry…" I whispered, sobbing, "It's not your fault, you're just an innocent baby. You didn't ask for any of this."

I managed to calm myself and the baby down when my phone buzzed.

It was a notification from Celia. She had posted a video showing her and Dante watching the fireworks from one of the waterfront terraces the Family controlled, her head leaning against his shoulders.

The caption read, 'Five years and he's never missed bringing me to watch the fireworks. Thank you for always bringing me here, my sweetest best friend.'

Five years? My fingers tightened as a startling realization dawned on me.

Three years ago I rescued Celia and brought her back into this house. But even before then, Dante had always been disappearing on this very day every year claiming he had Family business to handle.

My breath hitched. So it wasn't recent, or accidental, it wasn't even a mistake. He had been with her all along, from the very beginning.

A bitter laugh escaped me as bile rose in my throat. It hurt so much it felt like my chest was being torn open.

It was clear now, it had always been Celia.

—

Later that night I was trying to rest when I heard doors slamming open and Celia's terrified voice.

"Something's wrong… the baby… the baby isn't breathing!"

Everything moved fast after that. Dante rushed straight to my room with Celia and the baby.

"What did you do?!" he shouted.

"I didn't do anything—"

"You were the only one here with him when we went out!" he snapped.

"I would never—"

"Confess!" he roared, "You've always been jealous because your child died and her own survived."

I stared at him, my chest tightening at his words.

"So this is what you think of me. You think I'm capable of this?"

Celia started crying, "Please, sister, hurt me but spare my child."

I scoffed, "I'm not like you, Celia. I would never hurt an innocent child."

Dante's face was red with anger as he glared at me. "Enough of your cruelty, Bianca. I warned you to behave, maybe a few nights in county lockup will teach you a lesson, and pray nothing happens to my son."

The next thing I knew Dante called the cops, they handcuffed me and took me to the station even as I screamed of being innocent he ignored me.

—

The cell was cold and damp. The cops refused to let me make any calls.

I curled up like a ball at night and tried to sleep when I heard a noise.

Everything happened so quickly as three female prisoners broke into my cell and beat me up, kicking my chest and my ribs until I couldn't cry out anymore.

That's when one of them pulled out something. I saw the sharp glinting end of the blade as she grinned evilly at me.

"Celia paid us to kill you, you must have been a real bitch to her. She said you should die already and rot in hell!"

Before I could speak, something pierced into me.

I let out a shrill scream, my body jerking as warmth spread quickly beneath me.

Heavy footsteps and voices sounded around me but everything blurred together, as my eyes threatened to close.

I was rushed to the hospital and the nurses kept yelling I shouldn't close my eyes.

I drifted in and out of consciousness but I was able to pick up a little bit of conversation.

Dante was shouting, "All doctors should attend to my son."

"But sir, an inmate was stabbed. She's severely wounded and could die," one of the doctors was saying.

"What's a prisoner's life compared to that of my son. Save my son, the inmate's life is worthless," he said coldly.

Even now, he still chose to save Celia and her son, once again tossing me aside.

I was kept aside and left to bleed out. A nurse pitied me and bandaged my injury.

My vision blurred as I reached for my phone. My fingers drifted to the pale mark where my wedding ring used to sit, then I forced my hand away.

"Grandpa…"

My voice was barely a whisper.

"Come get me…"

By the time the door burst open again, I was fading. Matteo Vitale and the wheelman were beside me in an instant.

"Bianca! Stay with me!" Matteo said as he lifted me gently.

I forced my eyes open and I gripped his hand.

"I don't care anymore…" I whispered, "Release everything. I want them ruined."

The last thing I saw was the consigliere nodding to my words before darkness closed in.