The line went silent.

I could hear muffled voices in Orion's office, the scrape of a chair. He was clearly in a meeting. My call had interrupted something important.

"Meeting's over," Orion’s voice cut through, low and commanding. "Everyone out."

Footsteps faded. A door closed. Now, it was just the two of us.

"Three years, Aurelia," Orion's voice went ice-cold. "Three years since you made an enemy of the Morettis to protect that bastard. And now you call? You only remember my name when the world is burning down around you?"

I closed my eyes, the memories flooding back.

We grew up together. Orion was always trailing behind me, a loyal knight protecting his princess. He even turned down Harvard Business School to follow me to the same university.

But all I wanted then was to escape my family, to escape a fate that had already been written for me. I fell for Vittorio, the man who made my heart race.

The night we graduated, Orion confessed his love.

"Aurelia, marry me. You know it's all I've ever wanted... I'm willing to—"

But I cut him off. I was ruthless.

"I will never marry you, Orion. Never."

I heard he drank himself blind that night. They said he walked the streets of Chicago until the sun came up.

"Yes," I admitted quietly, my voice flat. "I'm in trouble."

"Ha," Orion scoffed. "The Rossi princess finally admits she picked the wrong man?"

"I gambled on a stray and thought he was a king," I said, my voice hollow. "I was wrong."

The line was quiet for a few seconds. I could feel his shock. His… hurt?

"But…" I continued, a wave of exhaustion hitting me. "If you're not interested, just forget I said anything. The marriage proposal was just a crazy idea."

I moved to hang up.

"Don't you dare hang up on me," Orion's voice snapped, an order that left no room for argument. "Re-open our secure channels. All of them. Now."

I froze.

"Send me your location. In a month, I'll come get you myself." His voice softened, but the threat was still there. "Aurelia. You don't get to back out. Not this time."

He hung up.

I sat on the edge of the bed, the phone slipping from my fingers. I went to my vanity and opened the bottom drawer. Inside were the secret photos I'd taken of Vittorio, and the journals I'd filled while I was in love with him. Three years of one-sided love, three years of wishful thinking.

I took them all out and walked into the garden.

Flames ate the pictures, ate my foolish words. The orange glow was a funeral pyre for the girl I used to be.

"What are you burning?"

Vittorio's voice came from behind me.

I didn't turn around. "Some old letters."

"What kind of letters need to be burned?" He stepped closer, trying to see what was in the fire.

Just then, a woman's crying voice cut through the air.

"Vittorio!" Carina cried, rushing toward us with wide, tear-filled eyes. "I'm so sorry! It was an accident!"

Vittorio immediately forgot about me and rushed to Carina. "What happened?"

"I... I accidentally bumped into that painting," Carina sobbed, pointing to the stairwell. "The red wine spilled on it. It stained Aurelia's face. I really didn't mean to!"

My heart felt like it was being squeezed.

I painted that portrait myself. It took me three months. Since Vittorio refused to take wedding photos, it was the only way I could capture a memory of us together. It was the only thing in the entire house that proved our marriage was real.

"The painting... it's in such an awkward spot," Carina sobbed. "I tripped, and the wine... My ankle is already swelling."

I wanted to defend the painting, to say it had been there for three years without a problem.

But Vittorio was already lifting Carina into his arms.

"Shhh, it's okay. It's just a painting," he murmured, pulling her close. "Forget the painting. Is your ankle alright? We'll get a doctor."

He turned to one of his men standing nearby. "Burn it," he ordered the guard, his voice pure ice. "It's in the way."

The flames ate my painting.

Three months of work, three years of proof, turned to ash.

I stood there, watching the orange fire lick the canvas, consuming the image of us holding each other. My heart ached with a dull pain, but I didn't cry.

I knew this was how it would be. This was always Vittorio’s choice.

"Aurelia..." Vittorio said, pausing as he carried Carina past me. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," my voice was so calm it surprised me. "Carina's ankle is more important."

He stared at me, clearly not expecting me to be so quiet.

"By the way, since Carina's back from Europe, she should stay here for a while," I said, turning to face them. "I'll put her in the guest room next to yours. I'll move downstairs."

In Vittorio's arms, Carina lifted her head. A flash of triumph crossed her eyes before it was replaced by gratitude. "Aurelia, you're so kind... I won't stay long. I'll move out as soon as I find a place."

Vittorio stared at me, his expression complicated. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

I turned and walked downstairs. I heard Carina's hushed voice behind me. "Vittorio, I don't think Aurelia is happy..."

"She'll understand," Vittorio's voice sounded tired.

An hour later, I was packing in the small downstairs room when the door opened. Vittorio stood in the doorway, his face a grim mask.

"Enough with the act, Aurelia," he finally said. "If you're jealous, just say it. Stop torturing yourself with this martyr routine."

I kept folding my clothes, not stopping.

"I know you hate sleeping alone," his voice softened, laced with a flicker of guilt. "You don't have to do this. We're still married, Aurelia. This is still your room."

My hands paused.

It was true. For three years, Vittorio had given me the respect a wife deserved. He'd climb into my bed after a drunken night and wake me with kisses full of what felt like love. In those moments, I thought we could last forever.

But the second Carina appeared, I was always second choice.

"I'm sorry about the painting," Vittorio said, stepping closer, reaching to hug me. "I was in a hurry. I wasn't thinking about your feelings."

I sidestepped his embrace.

"I'm not jealous, Vittorio," I said softly. "I just think I need a break. Especially after getting shot. It's time to hand off some of my duties."

Vittorio's face went cold.

"Suit yourself." He turned to leave, then remembered something. "By the way, what were those documents you had me sign this afternoon?"

A small smile touched my lips.

"Just a small gift. For our third anniversary."

Vittorio’s expression softened. He came over and stroked my cheek.

"Bella," he murmured. "I know her being here is hard on you. But you are my wife. A good wife. I won't let you down."

His voice was gentle, but I heard what he really meant.

Carina was temporary. Once he settled his debt to her, he would make it up to me.

Too bad I didn't want any of it anymore.

"I understand," I nodded.

Vittorio let out a breath of relief, kissed my forehead, and left the room.

It was midnight when I was violently dragged out of bed.

Vittorio’s face was a storm cloud, his anger simmering with murder.

"Get upstairs. Now."

He dragged me up the stairs and threw open the door to his bedroom.

On the bed, Carina was flushed, breathing heavily. Her hair was stuck to her sweaty skin, her eyes were hazy, and her body was trembling uncontrollably.

When she saw us, she curled into a ball like a frightened deer.

"Vittorio... I feel so strange... so hot..." her voice was a breathy whisper, laced with a desperate, animal need.

Vittorio turned to me, his eyes blazing. "What did you give her to drink?"

"I didn't give her anything," I answered calmly. "She's the one who wanted to open that bottle of Romanée-Conti. I drank some too. Why am I fine?"

"Because this is your specialty, isn't it?" Vittorio snarled, grabbing my shoulders. "Dirty little tricks. It's how you ended up in my bed in the first place!"

Those words were a knife, straight to my heart.

I remembered that night three years ago. I got intel that someone was going to make a move on Vittorio at a private casino. I couldn't reach my men. I couldn't reach him. No one knew the panic I felt as I raced there, only to find him drugged with an aphrodisiac.

In his desperation, I gave myself to him. I cried when he entered me. I don't know if it was because my dream had come true, or because I was terrified of what would come next.

I never imagined he'd wake up and look at me with so much hate.

Just like now. He always believed I was the one who set it all up. That he was the victim.

"Vittorio, please don't blame her..." Carina said weakly, but her body writhed, a soft moan escaping her lips. She suddenly grabbed a lighter from the nightstand, her hand shaking as she flicked it on.

"I can't take this feeling..." she sobbed, holding the flickering flame to her own skin. "I won't be a burden... I won't let you sacrifice your honor for me..."

The smell of burning skin filled the room. Carina screamed in pain, but her eyes held a twisted look of relief.

"Carina!" Vittorio lunged, snatching the lighter away. He stared at the red, angry mark on her arm, and his face hardened with decision.

"I'll help you."

"She did this to you," Vittorio said, his voice dangerously low. "As her husband, it's my debt to pay."

His words hit me like lightning.

He was really going to "help" Carina?

I couldn't believe it. The man I loved, the man I called my husband, was saying something so degrading, so humiliating.

My voice trembled. "So you think I drugged her... just to watch you fuck her?"

"Enough!" Vittorio roared. "Don't use that filthy language!"

On the bed, Carina reached out a trembling hand and touched Vittorio's chest. His body tensed at her touch.

"Vittorio... please don't... I can't let you betray your family," Carina's voice was weak but seductive. "You should go... I can get through this alone..."

Her fingers trailed down his chest. Vittorio's breathing grew ragged.

"No. I'm not leaving you," Vittorio said, grabbing her hand, his eyes full of pity. "This is her fault. She should face the consequences."

Carina pretended to push him away, but her body instinctively moved closer.

"Aurelia... I'm sorry... I didn't mean to take Vittorio from you... but I feel so awful..."

While she apologized, she guided Vittorio's hand to her own hot skin.

Something in my head snapped. I couldn't believe they were doing this, in my home, shaming me so openly.

"Enough, Carina Romano!" I screamed, my voice raw. "Stop the act! You destroy my home, you seduce my husband, and now you stage this whole show to get him into your bed! How disgusting can you be?"

The second the words left my mouth, Vittorio exploded.

Crack.

The sound of the slap echoed in the room. My left cheek burned, and I could taste blood.

"How dare you say that about Carina!" Vittorio grabbed my shoulders and shook me hard. "She's kind. She never says a bad word about you! But you, you've been nothing but hostile!"

"So all that understanding you showed today was an act!" His eyes were full of disappointment and disgust.

Carina sobbed on the bed. "Vittorio, don't blame Aurelia... It's my fault... I shouldn't have come back..."

Vittorio turned and gently stroked her face. "No. You're not the one who's wrong."

He pulled a pair of handcuffs from the nightstand drawer and looked at me, his eyes cold.

"You love these little drug games so much," he hissed. "Fine. You can listen to me help Carina with her 'problem.'"

He dragged me downstairs and cuffed my wrist to the iron gate of the wine cellar. Cold metal bit into my skin. The pain was a brutal, clarifying shock.

"Vittorio, you can't do this to me!" I struggled, but the cuffs only tightened.

"Listen," he said, his voice trembling with a rage he couldn't control. "You brought this on yourself, Aurelia. Now you get to hear the consequences of your 'masterpiece.'"

He turned and went back upstairs without a second glance. The door slammed shut.

I closed my eyes, tears streaming down my face.

Soon, I heard Carina's muffled moans from upstairs. I tried to block it out, but I couldn't even cover my ears.

"Vittorio... please, be gentle..."

"I know. Just hold on."

Then came the rhythmic creak of the headboard, and her moans growing louder, bolder.

"Ah... Vittorio... right there... harder..."

Every sound was a knife in my heart.

I curled up on the cold floor, the world spinning. The old gunshot wound began to ache, and a vicious cramp seized my abdomen. But my heart hurt the most, like it was being ripped to shreds.

The sounds from upstairs went on all night. Vittorio's heavy breathing, Carina's breathless cries, their shouts as they came.

I shivered on the floor, my clothes soaked with cold sweat.

A vicious cramp seized my abdomen. Then I felt it. A slow, warm trickle of blood down my thigh. A weak sob escaped my lips, but it was drowned out by the noise from above.

By dawn, everything was quiet.

I had no more tears left. I was just curled up in a pool of my own blood, like a dying animal.

Footsteps on the stairs.

Vittorio opened the cellar door. He started to say something mocking, but his face froze when he saw me.

"Aurelia?!" His voice was filled with a panic I'd never heard before. He rushed over, his hands trembling as he fumbled with the cuffs. "Jesus Christ, you're bleeding so much..."

I lifted my head and used all my strength to look at him.

"Let go of me..."

I collapsed. The fever made everything blurry. He scooped me up, his hands touching my cold, wet clothes. He roared, "I'm taking you to the hospital!"

Just then, Carina's voice drifted down from the bedroom, thick with lazy satisfaction. "Vittorio... you were too rough. I don't think I can walk..."

"Besides," she added, her voice full of fake concern, "if you take Aurelia to the family hospital, everyone will know about us. It'll be bad for the family's reputation."

Vittorio's arms tightened around me, then went still. I could feel him fighting with himself. He looked at my pale face, his eyes filled with pain and guilt.

But in the end, he turned to the guard at the door, his voice a low growl. "Get a street doc. The back-alley clinic. Now."

In the end, he chose to hide his affair with Carina over saving my life.

The bleeding seemed to stop. I couldn't hold on any longer. I sank into darkness.

A few hours later, I woke up in a small, dingy clinic. It wasn't one of ours.

The doctor was a middle-aged woman with a grim face.

"You were pregnant," she said, her face grim. "About three months along. Between the blood loss and the trauma... you lost it."

Tears rolled silently down my cheeks. Did it hurt? I felt numb.

"We need to do a D&C as soon as possible, or it could affect your ability to have children in the future."

I closed my eyes. "Do it."

Better to get it over with. Since I couldn't keep the child, it was time to end everything.

As the cold surgical instrument entered my body, the last of my love for Vittorio seemed to drain away.

All I wanted now was to escape this hell.

After the surgery, I lay in the hospital bed, took out my encrypted phone, and sent a new message to Orion with a trembling hand.

[A month is too long. I need you in three days. Get me out.]