For a long time after everything went black, I floated in and out of a feverish darkness.

During the days when my fever refused to break, I kept reliving the first time I met Enzo. It was a family gathering, Enzo and I locked eyes for the first time, and there was an instant connection. It felt as if everything had been set in motion at that moment.

Our wedding was flawless. The ceremony was dignified, the vows heartfelt, and every smile reflected the happiness and trust we had built together. At the time, no one could have imagined that our peace would be shattered.

Then Chiara Bellini returned. She had been Enzo’s childhood companion, someone he had always cared for and protected. From the moment she came back, everything changed. Gradually, everyone in the family, including Enzo himself, began to see me differently.

I became the woman who was selfish, jealous, and desperate for his attention. Overnight, my reputation shifted from devoted wife to someone seen as reckless and grasping, and every gesture I made was twisted into proof of my supposed faults.

In the previous life, when Chiara died in that fire, he had remained unnervingly calm. I had believed I had won. I thought I had taken control of my life. He had brought home almost everything he could buy to care for my unborn child. His attentions had blinded me. I saw nothing clearly.

It wasn’t until he personally ended my child’s life that I understood the truth. From the beginning to the end, the only woman who mattered to him had been Chiara.

When I opened my eyes this time, I was staring at the bright white ceiling of the clinic. The face above me was not Enzo’s. It belonged to a man I had never met, a liaison responsible for this district on behalf of the family. He had found me lying outside the warehouse and brought me here.

“Can you hear me? You’re awake. I saw you collapsed outside alone and brought you here. How are you feeling?”

I tried to move, but the moment my hand touched my stomach, my body froze.

He looked at me with evident concern. “I’m sorry. When I arrived, you had already lost a lot of blood. The doctors said the baby didn’t survive.”

My lips cracked, dry and raw. I forced a smile that looked worse than crying.

“It’s not your fault. I know.”

“Thank you for bringing me here.”

Even a complete stranger could see I had been close to death. The man I had followed for five years hadn’t even looked at me once.

The liaison’s eyes burned with anger at Enzo’s men. “What were they doing? A pregnant woman bleeding out on the floor, and they ignored her?”

“If I hadn’t been passing by, you would already be gone. Where is your family? Where is the father?”

“Give me his number. I’ll call him immediately. You need someone here with you.”

“I’ve already reported this to the family council. That behavior is disgraceful.”

I nodded slowly, my voice hoarse and barely audible.

“The father of your child is dead.”

He froze for a moment, his expression softening with deeper pity. He offered to stay until I was discharged. I declined, transferring the medical fees to his phone and letting him go.

The liaison left, but the matter was far from over. Photos of me sprawled in blood reached several elders of the Carmine family. The accompanying note read: “Saletta’s woman left to die outside the warehouse.”

The message spread quickly through the family. In hidden taverns and private dinners, whispers spread that Enzo had left his wife to bleed on the floor, showing neither care nor judgment for her life. Some muttered that if he could ignore her in such danger, who could trust him to protect anyone else? The rumors hinted that even Chiara might be dragged into the fallout, caught between the family’s judgment and Enzo’s recklessness.

“Maybe they should just be called the property protection squad,” someone muttered during a private dinner.

I heard every word that trickled into my ears. Truthfully, none of it seemed to affect Enzo. I had someone deliver a message for him. I intended to sever ties. Before I could type the word, Chiara sent a photo.

She was in the same clinic, one floor below me. In the photo, Enzo fed her a bowl of soup, blowing on the spoon to make sure she wouldn’t burn herself. I had seen too many photos like this before. They no longer hurt me.

I pinned the photo to the table and sent a message through the channels. I wanted to speak with Enzo. After five attempts, he finally picked up, his voice heavy with irritation.

Enzo’s voice crashed through the line.

“You actually called? To see if Chiara burned? Sorry to disappoint you. I saved her. She’s alive and recovering.”

“Gia, do you even know whose warehouse you burned? That belonged to the Carmine family. The old man called this afternoon. What was I supposed to say?”

“I’m giving you one chance. Come down and face it in front of Chiara. I’ll tell the council you lost control. Otherwise, you handle it yourself.”

Before I could respond, Chiara’s soft, trembling voice reached me. “Enzo, don’t scold her. It’s my fault. If she wants to say me set the fire, let her. Don’t argue. She’s pregnant.”

Enzo sneered, not at her, but at the situation.

“You’re too soft. She burned a family warehouse, not her own home. Step aside.”

Then he turned back to me. “Did you hear that? She’s speaking for you. Now come down. I won’t call others to get you.”

I waited until he finished.

“No need. Prepare the dissolution papers. I’ll sign.”

He was stunned. He froze for two seconds.

“What did you say?”

“I said dissolve the relationship. Clear enough?”

I hung up before he could respond.

Soon after, someone arrived at the clinic to deliver a message from Enzo.

“Where are you? Have you lost your mind? I saw your stomach—your baby was safe, and you’re playing games?”

“Do you think I’m afraid because I’m pregnant? Think carefully. When you need to sign on the operating table, you’ll beg me.”

“Also, take back those photos. Carmine has already seen them. You can’t handle this alone.”

I didn’t listen. I sent the messenger away.

In my past life, I had already died for this man. Hearing his voice now made my hands tremble, but only for a few seconds.

Two nurses came in to change my dressings. They kept their heads down, doing their work, but their comments were meant to be heard.

“That Bellini girl is lucky. Saletta locked one of the private kitchens so he could cook for her himself every day.”

“When I went down to change her dressings, he wouldn’t even let me touch her arm. He did it himself. What do you call that?”

“Attention. The Bellini family and the Salettas are old friends. She grew up with him. How could someone barging in halfway compare?”

They never mentioned my name. I focused on the IV needle in my hand. Most of my skin had peeled away, aching and itching.

When they left, I finally drew a deep breath. My chest felt heavy and tight.

Later that evening, a family elder, one of the doctors, came in and spoke bluntly.

“The blow to your abdomen was severe. It’s unlikely you will carry another child.”

He said it lightly, as if remarking on the weather.

I nodded slowly, but my chest felt hollow and my vision blurred. In that instant, only one thought remained: the life I carried was gone.

After he left, I sat alone, sending someone out to check the situation outside.

The news spread quickly. The photo of me lying in blood reached the Carmine family. They were furious. The elders immediately called Enzo.

Enzo’s solution was to push me aside.

The council released a statement. They claimed the incident was entirely my doing. That I acted out of jealousy, burned a warehouse, and tarnished Enzo’s reputation as head of security.

To make the story believable, Enzo showed our marriage contract. It established that I was his woman, he had no part in starting the fire, yet the blame landed entirely on me.

All scorn and whispers turned toward me. In family taverns, at private tables, every warning, every caution was relayed to my ears. Each time I tried to speak, I was shut down.

In the following days, everyone in the clinic looked at me differently. No one openly pushed me out, but their intent was clear.

Every day, anonymous messages arrived. No preamble, no explanations, just the same sentence over and over. I did not reply. Not a single word.

On the day the doctor cleared me for discharge, I arranged for a message to be delivered to Enzo.

“Tomorrow. Council. Sign the papers.”

He called through another line.

“Finally showing your face? You still dare to appear?”

“I gave you a chance to apologize. You didn’t. Carmine is watching now. Do you think I can protect you?”

“Fine. Sign it. But remember, the child in your womb will grow up without a father. Your choice.”

He hung up before I could answer.

I opened the hidden backup feed from the warehouse.

Enzo had forgotten one thing.

Before I became his wife, I was the one who designed the Carmine family’s security archive.