I was in too much pain to speak.

I collapsed to the floor, my vision dimming as a warm liquid soaked the hem of my gown.

Everyone looked at me with disgust.

"That was too much. The girl was on her knees begging, and she still went after her."

"So the so-called mafia principessa is just as arrogant and spoiled as they say. No grace at all."

"How vicious. To do something like that to her own sister."

Vincent seemed to realize something was wrong. He called my name and started toward me. "Evie, what's wrong..."

"Ah! My ankle!" His words were cut off by Sarah's cry.

She was in tears, a row of overturned champagne glasses beside her, the picture of misery.

In the end, Vincent went back to her side. My father rushed to Sarah as well. "Quick, get her to the family hospital!"

A crowd swarmed around them and left. As he walked away, Vincent tossed a comment over his shoulder. "The floor is cold. Get up."

In the end, he never even saw the pool of blood beneath me.

The vast ballroom fell silent.

I pulled out my phone to contact the family doctor, but instead, I received a text from my bank.

[All of your accounts have been frozen.]

I looked at the message, then at "The Heart of True Love" on my hand, and laughed until my body shook.

This so-called love was just a gilded cage.

They gave me the most magnificent cage, the most expensive jewels.

But all they were feeding me was slow acting poison, corroding me bit by bit, waiting for me to crawl back like a dog and beg for the antidote.

I tore a strip from my skirt and wadded it up, pressing it hard against the gash on my lower back.

I didn't need a doctor. Collins women don't die that easily.

I went to a cheap, no-questions-asked underground clinic.

I slapped "The Heart of True Love" down on the counter. The nurse's eyes lit up, and she let me stay.

I curled up on the stained hospital bed. On my phone, Sarah's private social media account was live.

She was on a private jet, swirling a glass of whiskey.

"If my dear sister were willing to bow her head, maybe Vincent would throw her a crumb."

"After all, I'm not the kind of Donna who can't tolerate a rival."

Vincent indulged her with a private jet, even letting her expose the underworld to public view.

Just then, I received an encrypted message from Antonio. Collins assets were being rapidly transferred to Caterina's name.

[At the Commission meeting in a week, your father plans to sell off his proxy shares. If you attend, you can reclaim all transferred assets.]

I clutched the fragments of my mother's pearls and replied with a single word: "Okay."

That evening, Sarah posted a picture of a marriage certificate. New York high society exploded.

"So the Collins heiress was the other woman all along!"

"Her mother bullied Sarch and her mother for years, and now her own daughter ends up an abandoned woman. Serves her right."

But just three minutes later, the post mysteriously disappeared.

I was trying to figure out what happened when the flimsy door to my room was thrown open.

Sarah stood there, surrounded by bodyguards, looking immaculate and untouched.

"Well, well," she cooed, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. "Look at the high and mighty Principessa Collins. Reduced to this hovel. I almost feel sorry for you."

A sharp pain shot through my abdomen, and I doubled over, my voice trembling. "Help me... a doctor..."

I looked past Sarah to the nurse standing in the doorway. The nurse simply stared back, her face a mask of indifference, refusing to move.

"No one is going to help you, you pathetic homewrecker," Sarah sneered.

Before I could react, she stepped forward and slapped me hard across the face.

The sound echoed in the small room. My head snapped back, my cheek stinging.

The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. I clutched my stomach, my voice barely a whisper. "I... I'm going to call Vincent. He won't let you do this."

Sarah threw her head back and laughed,"Oh, please do. Or better yet," she said, pulling out her own phone, "let me do it for you."

She dialed his number and put it on speaker. After two rings, Vincent answered

"Vincent, darling," Sarah cooed, her voice instantly transforming into a sweet, victimized whine. "I'm dealing with a jealous bitch right now. She's trying to ruin our relationship and saying terrible things about us."

Vincent's voice came through the speaker,"Who dares to upset you? Don't let anyone make you unhappy. Teach whoever it is a lesson they won't forget."

"Does it matter who it is?" Sarah asked, glancing at me with a triumphant smirk.

"Not at all," Vincent replied.

"The Jenkins family can handle anything, Sarah. I'll clean up any mess."

The line went dead.

And so did my heart. The last flicker of hope turned to ash. He gave her permission. He gave her permission to destroy me.

"You heard him, my sister." Sarah said, her eyes gleaming with cruelty. "I can do whatever I want."

She grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back. Another slap, harder this time, rocked me. She struck me again and again, her rage and glee twisting her face into a monstrous mask.

"He's mine!" she shrieked, landing a vicious kick to my side. "Everything you had is mine!"

I curled into a ball, trying desperately to shield my stomach, my world dissolving into a haze of pain and humiliation. All I could do was pray for the baby.

Sarah gestured to the two hulking men she had brought with her. "Hold her down."

"I want you to teach her a lesson, right on that precious belly of hers. Make sure the bastard inside knows who's in charge now."

"No! Please, not the baby!" A scream of pure agony was ripped from my throat.

The men pinned my arms and legs. I fought, but I was weak from the blood loss and the fall. The first kick landed squarely on my abdomen.

It felt like my insides were being torn apart. Another kick followed, then another.

Tears and sweat blurred my vision. The world began to gray out at the edges.

I'm going to die here, I thought. My poor baby, we're going to die together in this filthy place.

I could feel my strength fading, my consciousness slipping away.

Just as Sarah raised a heavy glass vase to smash it down on me, the clinic door was kicked open with a thunderous crash.

Sarah screamed as a powerful hand seized her wrist, stopping her mid-swing. The grip was so tight her face went pale with pain.

A tall figure stepped in front of me, shielding me from her. His voice was low and laced with murderous intent.

"Who gave you the nerve to touch the mother of a Gallo heir?"