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."

"Okay," I replied.

My calm and genuine response stunned him into silence.

After a long pause, he asked slowly, "What did you say?"

I repeated, "It's all for the new casino opening's promotion. I understand. Don't worry, I'll handle the press."

After I finished speaking, the breathing on the other end of the phone grew heavier and more uneven. It sounded low and restrained, the way Dante always sounded when he was on the verge of losing his temper.

I knew what would come next. Harsh words, accusations, that familiar tone that used to make me flinch.

I didn't want to hear it anymore. Without hesitation, I hung up and turned off my phone.

Then I picked up my work phone and calmly contacted several of the most connected tabloid journalists in the city. One by one, I told them to push the story about Dante carrying Serafina in a princess hold straight to the top of the headlines.

There was a brief silence on the other end of each call.

"Mrs. Valente, are you sure you want to do this?" one of them finally asked, clearly taken aback.

I understood their reaction. In the past, I had always been the one paying to suppress this kind of coverage. I would explain everything away as promotional appearances for the Family's front businesses, controlling the narrative so it never got out of hand.

But this time, I had no intention of doing that.

Since I was already preparing for a civil split, I needed to secure my position. I had to protect the assets we shared, the shell accounts, the restaurant fronts, the real estate, and make sure I wouldn't walk away with nothing.

"So I have one condition," I said calmly.

The reporters immediately became attentive. "Mrs. Valente, please go ahead."

"I want fifty percent of the profits," I said without hesitation. "If you agree, we sign the contract immediately and get started. I can also provide more authentic material if needed."

My confidence only made them more excited. After all, nothing attracted attention more than a scandal involving the golden prince of the Bellandi Family.

By the next day, the story of Dante and Serafina's old-neighborhood romance exploded across every tabloid and society page. It quickly occupied three of the top trending spots.

While the entire city's gossip circles were in chaos, I quietly scheduled an interview with a candidate for a new personal courier.

That night, Dante, who was supposed to be overseeing a sit-down in another city, unexpectedly rushed back to the estate.

The moment he stepped into the living room, I could already smell Serafina's signature perfume lingering on him. It was faint, but unmistakable. The two soldiers flanking the front door had gone rigid the second his car pulled through the gates, and now the whole house held its breath.

"Bianca, don't you have anything to say?" he demanded. His voice was urgent, almost frantic.

His expression was serious, his gaze cold and sharp as it locked onto me. For a brief second, his eyes reminded me of that venomous snake I had encountered on the mountain, the one I had nearly died escaping from.

He didn't wait for me to respond before continuing, his tone turning harsh. "Do you realize what you've done? This is going to seriously damage Serafina's standing. There are photographers swarming outside her apartment right now. She can't even step outside!"

I sat on the couch, casually eating potato chips while watching anime. I didn't even bother to look up at him.

"Isn't this exactly what the neighborhood faithful wanted?" I said calmly. "It's also perfect promotion for the new venue opening. I made this decision after weighing the pros and cons."

Those words were not unfamiliar.

Two years ago, Dante had said the exact same thing to me.

Back then, Serafina had just been brought into the Family's orbit. She was rehearsing a number for the supper club's grand opening, a dramatic entrance off a raised stage meant to showcase the new chanteuse. It was her very first public appearance under the Bellandi name, and she was desperate to make an impression.

Right before the rehearsal, she clung to Dante with teary eyes, saying she was afraid of heights.

Dante didn't hesitate. To keep the schedule on track and make the routine look convincing, he ordered me to wear Serafina's costume and act as her stand-in.

The stage platform was more than ten meters high. There were no proper safety measures.

"Serafina said the crew prepared safety protection at the bottom. Bianca, what are you hesitating for?" he said impatiently.

"But… Dante… I'm afraid of heights too…" I held onto his arm, my voice trembling.