The director called "Cut" three times, but my husband was still locked in a passionate kiss with his old-neighborhood flame.

As his house fixer, I kindly reminded them, but the old-neighborhood flame burst into tears, claiming she was too deep into the role.

In front of the entire crew on the casino nightclub stage, my husband scolded me, saying that my eyes and heart were so dirty that I saw filth in everything. That night, the tabloid photographers caught the two of them entering and leaving a five-star hotel together.

In the past, I would have been devastated, obsessing over him and scrambling to handle the damage control while crying. But this time, I realized our five-year secret marriage was utterly meaningless.

——

Right after I finished speaking with a retained family attorney about the divorce, Dante walked into the lounge. The lipstick mark left by his old-neighborhood flame, Serafina, was still faintly visible at the corner of his lips. It hadn't even been wiped clean.

The moment his eyes landed on me, the warmth in his expression vanished. His smile froze, then disappeared completely, replaced by a cold, distant look. His gaze sharpened as he spoke in a harsh tone. "Bianca, can't you figure out your place? This is a resting room for the leading performers, arranged by the crew. What are you doing here?"

His words were cutting, but I didn't react. I simply reached for the thermos on the makeup table. My fingers brushed over its still-warm surface. My thumb found the inside edge of my wedding band and pressed hard against it before I picked the thermos up. "Getting my stuff."

Dante had started on set at five in the morning. I had woken up at three to prepare the meal inside that thermos. Every dish had been carefully made. But now, just by the weight, I knew he hadn't touched it at all. Not even a bite.

As I turned to leave, he frowned slightly. His voice came again, colder and more dismissive. "Don't bother making food anymore. It's unpalatable."

It wasn't the first time he had said that. Not even close.

In the past, I would have exploded. I would have demanded, "Didn't you say you wanted to eat my cooking for a lifetime? Why is it disgusting now?" I would have clung to those words, desperate for an answer.

But this time, I didn't feel anything. No anger. No urge to argue. Just a quiet emptiness.

I simply replied with a soft "Hmm," and walked out without looking back.

Behind me, Dante called out again. His voice carried a faint, almost imperceptible unease. "There's a crew dinner tonight. The director wants me to discuss the script with Serafina."

I paused for a brief second but didn't turn around. I ignored the trace of guilt in his tone and replied coldly, "Okay."

Then I closed the door.

Once outside, I walked down the hallway and threw the thermos straight into the trash. It landed with a dull sound. The lid rattled once before going still.

The last scene had been filmed at the Family's supper club close to the compound, so Dante hadn't stayed at a hotel. He came back around one in the morning. A soldier held the gate; I heard the low exchange of voices, then the front door.

When he entered, the house was quiet. The living room lights were off. For once, I wasn't waiting for him. There was no warm meal, no greeting, no one asking if he was tired.

He pushed open the bedroom door, already impatient. "Bianca," he said, "you know I have trouble sleeping. Why didn't you brew my calming tea?"

I lay in bed without moving. I pulled the blanket over my head and replied lazily, "I ran out of tea leaves last night. If you want some, order takeout."

There was a brief silence.

Then came a loud bang. Dante slammed the door and went into the study. That was his way of showing anger. Somewhere deeper in the estate, I heard the faint shift of a guard adjusting his post, the way everyone on the property recalibrated whenever the Don's mood turned.

In the past, that sound alone would have kept me awake all night. I would have tossed and turned until I finally gave in and apologized.

But not this time.

He waited until morning. Still, I didn't knock on the study door.

The next day, production moved to a remote location outside the city, some mountainside venue the Family used for location shoots. The road was long and winding.

For once, Dante let me ride in the same car as him. I got in quietly and sat down without saying anything.

Just then, Serafina walked over. She wore a low-cut, backless dress. Her movements were graceful, her presence eye-catching.

"Dante, do you have any bug spray? I always attract mosquitoes..." she said softly. One quick finger touched the pearl at her throat.

Then she saw me. Her expression shifted slightly. "Oh, Bianca, you're here too? Then I'd better take the other car..."

Before she could finish, Dante interrupted coldly. "Bianca, can't you be sensible? Stop causing trouble. Go sit in the staff car."

His words were blunt.

For the first time, I didn't argue. I didn't even look at him. I simply got out and walked away.

My figure grew smaller as I headed toward the staff car.

Behind me, Dante frowned.

Five minutes later, my phone buzzed. A message from him.

"Today, Serafina has a stage number that shows leg. Don't misunderstand."

I looked at the screen for a moment and replied, "Understood."

The typing indicator appeared. It lingered for several minutes.

I didn't wait. I closed the thread and turned off my phone.

Without Dante's presence weighing on me, the scenery along the way seemed more beautiful. The road wound through the hills above the coast, and the air felt clearer, salted and sharp, as if the world outside the compound had a different atmosphere entirely.

By the time the evening's event wrapped at the Family's mountain lodge, it was already eleven at night.

The venue was dim, and the crew was breaking down the staging for the charity gala front that Dante used every season to launder goodwill. Caterers stacking chairs. Soldiers doing a final walkthrough before locking the building down.

Then a loud crash broke the calm.

The temporary scaffolding rigged by the carpenters for the backdrop display collapsed without warning.

Everything happened in an instant.

Dante rushed forward and pushed Serafina out of the way. The two of them fell to the ground together.

In the chaos, their bodies collided.

Their lips accidentally met.

The staff on site immediately burst into cheers and applause. Laughter and teasing voices filled the air. Serafina lowered her head shyly and nestled into Dante's arms, as if she truly belonged there.

"Oh no, everyone, please don't misunderstand. There's really nothing going on between Dante and me," she said softly, her voice gentle and innocent. One finger drifted to the pearl at her throat and touched it, quick as a breath.

Dante didn't deny it. He didn't explain either. Instead, he simply tightened his arms around her, holding her even closer, as if silently confirming everything they were guessing.

I gritted my teeth and used all my strength to push away the wooden frame pressing against my calf. The pain shot up instantly. I reached down and pulled out the splinter embedded in my flesh.

Without making a sound, I limped away from the chaos and found a quiet corner to tend to my wound. My hands trembled slightly, but I forced myself to stay calm. My thumb found the inside edge of my wedding band and pressed hard, as if the metal could hold something together that was already broken.

When I finally returned to the site, there was no one left. Not a single person. The entire place had been cleared out. The soldiers, the caterers, the woman in his arms. Gone.

Darkness surrounded me. It stretched endlessly in every direction. The distant howling of wild animals echoed through the mountains, making the silence even more terrifying. The Family's lodge sat locked and lightless above me, and the access road had no streetlamps. Just the tree line and the wind.

I curled my injured body into a ball, clutching a tree branch tightly in my hand. I hid on a stone beneath a large tree, forcing myself to stay alert.

That entire night, I didn't dare close my eyes.

It wasn't until dawn that I finally gathered the courage to move. My legs trembled as I slowly began my descent down the mountain.

Halfway down, my phone finally picked up a signal. Almost immediately, Dante's call came through.

The moment I answered, his furious voice exploded through the speaker. "Bianca, you're really something, huh? Not answering my calls and slacking off! Serafina got bitten by mosquitoes during the shoot last night. Go to the clinic and get her something for it."

Serafina was the golden face of the Bellandi nightclub circuit. She was known for her easygoing personality and lack of airs, which had earned her countless loyalists among the neighborhood faithful and the society-page columnists alike.

Everyone believed she managed on her own, no entourage, no handlers.

But no one knew that Dante was the one taking care of all her personal matters. And every task he couldn't do himself, he passed on to me.

When I didn't respond immediately, Dante's patience ran out. His voice turned even sharper. "Bianca, are you deaf? I'm giving you half an hour. Get back to the lodge right now."

I steadied my breathing and replied quietly, "I'm on the mountain."

There was a brief silence on the other end of the line.

Then his tone changed slightly. "You spent the night on the mountain? Alone?"

I looked around instinctively. The dense forest seemed to hide countless unknown dangers. I felt as though a pair of crimson eyes was watching me from behind the trees, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

The fear I had suppressed all night finally broke free. My chest tightened, and tears welled up in my eyes.

Dante's voice softened a little. "Stay where you are. I'll come get you. It'll take about an hour."

The sun climbed higher and higher in the sky. Time passed slowly, one minute after another. Then one hour. Then two.

But Dante never came.

In the end, I dragged my exhausted and injured body down the mountain by myself. Each step felt heavy, but I kept going.

By the time I returned to the base camp near the casino renovation site, I was already back inside the trailer. I had just finished a phone call with a candidate for a new courier position.

At that moment, Dante walked in.

His eyes immediately landed on my phone. A trace of cold suspicion flickered across his face. "Bianca, who were you talking to?" he asked in a low voice.

"Someone I don't know," I replied flatly.

He seemed to assume it was just a wrong number. He didn't question me further. And I didn't bother explaining either.

"I figured you'd be hungry, so I brought you some food," he said, tossing a takeout box onto the folding table. The movement was careless, almost dismissive.

The corner of the box lifted slightly, revealing leftover scraps inside. A sour smell drifted out immediately.

Dante quickly picked it up again, clearing his throat awkwardly. "There were a lot of people ordering from the kitchen. They must've grabbed the wrong one."

With someone of his status, eating with capos and the club's inner circle, how could a mistake like that even happen?

I didn't respond. I simply lay down on the cot and turned to face the other side. "It's fine. My delivery should arrive soon anyway," I said coldly.

Hearing that, Dante's expression darkened. His voice dropped. "Why didn't you tell me you were ordering food? Bianca, I've told you many times, there's nothing between Serafina and me. It's all just for appearances, for the public front. Why are you making such a fuss? Why are you so petty?"

I stared ahead blankly and replied, "I'm not making a fuss."

It was the truth. But somehow, it only made him angrier.

He grabbed the takeout box and threw it straight into the trash. His tone turned sharp and accusing. "Then why didn't you bring Serafina her medicine? Didn't I tell you it's inconvenient for me to go to the clinic because of my public image? It's just buying medicine. Is this really necessary?"

Buying medicine was a small thing. But so was doing laundry. So was cooking.

Serafina claimed she had a germ phobia and insisted all her clothes be washed by hand.

Even in the freezing northern winter, with temperatures far below zero, Dante ordered me to wash her clothes by hand. My fingers would go numb from the cold, the skin cracking from frostbite.

I remembered one time when my frostbitten hands started bleeding. The blood stained Serafina's clothes.

When Dante saw it, he didn't ask if I was hurt. Instead, he kicked me out of the hotel and forced me to wash her clothes outside in the snow. I wore nothing but a thin nightgown. The soldier posted at the door didn't look at me. Didn't move. Omertà applied to cruelty, too.

All because Serafina had once casually said, "Dante, I heard snow can cure frostbite." She'd touched the pearl at her throat when she said it, her voice as light as a lullaby.

In his eyes, I had always been nothing more than a servant. Someone who obeyed every command without question.

But after five years of living like that, I was tired. Completely tired.

My thumb found the inside edge of my wedding band. I pressed it there until the metal bit into the skin.

I pulled the blanket over my head and said coldly, "I'm not feeling well. I don't want to go."

The space on the other side fell silent for a long time.

Then Dante stormed out angrily.

That very night, Dante and Serafina shot to the top of every tabloid feed and society column in the city.

In the video, Dante was carrying Serafina in his arms, rushing into the private clinic on the Family's payroll, shouting for help. His expression looked anxious, almost frantic. The Don of the Bellandi Family, a man whose hand never shook, looked undone for a woman who wasn't his wife.

The gossip columns and neighborhood faithful exploded with excitement.

"Is Dante Bellandi finally making it official?"

"He carried her right through the front doors. I would kill for that."

"Doesn't anyone care what actually happened to Serafina?"

"I know someone on the crew. She said her forehead felt a little warm, and Dante picked her up immediately and drove to the clinic himself."

"I always knew they were perfect together."

I scrolled through the comments quietly. Then my phone rang.

It was Dante.

Before I could even say anything, he began explaining in a hurry. "Bianca, I only took Serafina to the clinic because she said she had a fever. I was worried it would affect the event schedule. That's all. Don't misunderstand the tabloids. There's really nothing between us."