In the Santoro family, there was one rule: the heir marries a daughter from another powerful Family.

But Alessio Santoro was crazy. He wanted to marry me, a nobody from a flower shop.

He knelt in the family chapel for ten days straight. He even took a bullet fired by his own father, the Don.

All just to walk away from his title and run away with me.

I held him, crying, begging him to stop.

He just smiled and kissed my eyes, wiping my tears. "Don't cry, Thea. As long as I can marry you, it's all worth it."

In the end, the Santoros relented.

But they had one condition: Alessio would still produce the next heir. Just not with me. He had to have a son with Aurelia Rossi.

So I endured. I endured listening to them through the wall, night after agonizing night.

I endured the smell of her perfume on his skin, the sight of her marks on his neck every time he kissed me.

A year later, Aurelia got pregnant. It was a girl.

Alessio begged me, his eyes red. "Just a little longer, Thea."

So I waited another year. Finally, news came. Aurelia was pregnant with a boy.

I thought we could finally leave, finally be free. But then disaster struck.

Aurelia’s daughter had a sudden, violent allergic reaction. Everyone blamed me. They threw me in the cellar and left me to die.

And Alessio? He believed them.

This time, I was the one who gave up. I walked away from everything.

My husband had a daughter with another woman. When the baby had a severe allergic reaction, everyone pointed the finger at me.

"You vicious bitch!"

Aurelia loomed over me, shaking a silver rattle in my face. Her eyes were pure fire. "My daughter almost died! Do you have any idea the pain she was in?"

Two guards held me down in a chair. I couldn't move. "I didn't—"

SLAP!

The crack of the slap echoed through the room, leaving a fire burning on my cheek.

"Still lying!" she shrieked. "If you hate me, come after me! Why would you poison an innocent child?"

"I never touched that rattle!"

A voice cut through the noise. "Enough."

Vito Santoro, the Don, stepped from the shadows. A black pistol was already in his hand.

He pressed the cold muzzle to my forehead.

"You touch my granddaughter, whore?"

His voice was a low growl. I could feel his finger tense on the trigger.

"Father, don't," Alessio finally said.

I whipped my head toward him, my heart leaping with hope. He would believe me. He had to—

But his eyes were cold. Unfamiliar.

"Drag her to the cellar," Carmela Santoro said, walking into the room. Her voice dripped with disgust. "Let her think about what she's done."

"No!" I struggled against the guards. "Alessio, believe me! You know I would never hurt a child!"

He looked at me like I was a stranger.

"We had a deal, Thea. We wait for Aurelia to have a son, then we leave. Why did you have to hurt my daughter?"

His words cut deeper than any knife.

I remembered the soft nights, him tracing my face, whispering, "Thea, once this is all over, we'll go to Tuscany. We'll open a small flower shop."

I remembered his promise, his lips against my ear. "I'll protect you for the rest of my life. I'll never let anyone hurt you."

I remembered that snowy night, him taking a bullet for me. His blood staining my white dress. He was smiling as he collapsed in my arms. "As long as you're safe, Thea, it's worth it."

Where did that Alessio go?

The guards dragged me toward the cellar. I looked back one last time. He turned away and gently pulled Aurelia into his arms.

The cellar was dark and freezing.

Three days. Three nights. A piece of bread, a little water. Just me, the rats, and my despair.

On the fourth day, they let me out.

I didn't go to Alessio. I went straight to Vito's office.

"I want to leave," I said, my voice a raw whisper.

Vito and Carmela exchanged a look. Then Carmela let out a cold laugh.

"Finally came to your senses? A flower shop girl, thinking she could actually marry into the Santoro family?"

"Yes," I said, my voice flat. "I'm not good enough."

"Hah. At least you know your place," she sneered. "I told you from the start. A girl with your background could never deserve my son."

"Please, just send me somewhere Alessio can't find me."

Vito ran a thumb over his cigar box. "In two weeks, someone will arrange your departure. And remember, you are never to see my son again."

I nodded and turned to leave.

As I walked through the living room, I saw them.

Alessio was on the couch. Aurelia was curled up against him, holding their baby girl.

The golden sunlight streamed in, painting them in a perfect family portrait.

My footsteps made them look up.

When Alessio saw me, his first instinct was to pull the baby protectively to his chest.

That single, protective gesture was the final stab to my heart.

He realized what he’d done and awkwardly handed the daughter to a nanny.

"Thea," he said, standing up, trying to come closer. "You look like hell. Are you hungry? What do you want to eat?"

His concern felt like a mockery.

"I'm fine."

"Thea, I... locking you in the cellar wasn't my idea. It was my father's—" He paused. "You shouldn't have been so impulsive."

"I didn't hurt her."

"But everyone saw—"

"I said I didn't do it."

We stared at each other. I saw guilt in his eyes. I saw pity. But I didn't see trust.

"Alessio," Aurelia's voice was sickeningly sweet. She walked over slowly, her hand on her pregnant belly. "Don't be so hard on Thea. She only lost her mind because she loves you so much."

Her words were meant to sound kind, but they were pure acid in my wounds.

But what truly broke me was the necklace around her neck.

It was the only thing I had left from my grandmother. A small, simple pearl pendant. Worthless to anyone but me.

"That's my necklace," my voice trembled.

Aurelia looked down, a picture of innocence. "This? Oh, Alessio just gave it to me."

"Liar!" I lunged for her, trying to get it back.

The moment I got close, she stumbled backward, letting out a piercing scream.

"My baby!"

"Aurelia!" Alessio yelled, rushing to her side.

"She pushed me!" Aurelia cried from the floor, clutching her stomach in terror. "She's trying to kill my baby!"

"I didn't touch her!"

But no one was listening.

Alessio spun on me, his face a mask of fury, and shoved me hard.

My head slammed against the sharp corner of the stone fireplace.

The impact sent black spots across my vision. Warm blood trickled down my neck.

"Thea!" I heard someone yell my name. The voice sounded far away.

Through my blurring vision, I saw Alessio lift Aurelia into his arms, whispering to her. "Don't be scared. I'm here. You and our baby will be fine."

I sat in a pool of my own blood and watched Alessio carry Aurelia out of the room.

He didn't hesitate. He didn't even look back.

I started to laugh, but tears streamed down my face.

The memories crashed over me.

Three years ago, back in the spring, I was just a girl working in a small flower shop in Brooklyn.

Every morning at nine, a man in an expensive suit would walk in.

He always bought a bouquet of white roses. Twelve, never more, never less.

"Why always white roses?" I'd asked him once.

"Because the girl who wraps them loves white." His eyes were so gentle, you felt like you could drown in them.

For three months straight, rain or shine.

The other girls whispered about the handsome, rich mystery man in the black Maserati.

But I knew he wasn't just some rich guy. I saw the bodyguards who followed him, the faint outline of holsters under their jackets. I saw the danger that flashed in his eyes sometimes.

Then came the rainy night that changed everything.

A rival family ambushed him in my shop.

They were there to kill Alessio. They took me hostage instead.

A bullet flew towards me. Alessio threw himself in front of me.

Blood soaked his white shirt, staining the bouquet of roses he hadn't had the chance to give me.

"Why?" I cried, sitting by his hospital bed.

He lay there, his right arm wrapped in thick bandages. The bullet had shattered the bone. The doctors said he might never use it the same way again.

"Because you owe me a life," he said, smiling weakly. "And you can pay me back with yours."

That was the first time he told me how he felt.

Later, in that sterile hospital hallway, he got down on one knee, holding a bouquet of blood-stained white roses.

"Thea Monroe, be mine."

I nodded, sobbing.

After that, he treated me like a queen.

If I nicked my finger trimming flowers, he'd call his private doctor.

If I mentioned I liked the cheesecake from a certain restaurant, he'd buy the whole place the next day.

I complained about the cold one winter, and he had heated floors installed in our bedroom, always kept at a perfect seventy-two degrees.

"Thea, you're my whole world," he told me, over and over.

Back then, he only had eyes for me.

And now...

I wiped the blood from my face with my sleeve and shakily got to my feet.

No one cared if I lived or died. The guards had gone with Alessio to the hospital. The maids hid in the corners, too scared to make a sound.

I walked out of the Santoro estate alone.

The night was cold. My head was still bleeding.

At a private clinic, the doctor was cleaning the gash.

"This is deep. It needs stitches," he said with a frown. "How did this happen?"

"I fell."

"Miss, this was clearly caused by blunt for—"

"I said I fell."

He didn't ask again and started stitching. The sharp sting of the needle pulled me back to reality.

Suddenly, the clinic door flew open.

Alessio stormed in, his eyes blazing.

"Thea! You just don't give up, do you?" he snarled, striding toward me. "Aurelia is in emergency surgery, and you follow me here? What, you want to finish the job?"

Whatever was left of my heart turned to ice.

"This wound on my head," I said, pointing to the stitches. "You did this."

Alessio froze.

The rage vanished from his face, replaced by shock and guilt.

"Thea, I—" He reached for me. I flinched away.

"Don't touch me."

"Thea, I'm sorry," his voice softened. "I was so worried about Aurelia. You know what happens if she's hurt. The alliance with her family is destroyed. It means we wait even longer to leave—"

"Enough," I said, pushing him away. "Go take care of your Aurelia."

"Thea, listen to me—" He grabbed my arm, his eyes desperate. "You're the only one I love. It's always been you. Just wait for me. Wait for me to handle all this, and we'll leave this place for good."

I'd heard it all before.

He said it every time he came back to our bed after sleeping with her.

He said it every time Aurelia cried and he had to comfort her.

"I'm waiting," I said, looking him dead in the eye. "I've always been waiting."

"Thea—"

"Go," I said, pulling my arm free. "Your woman is waiting for you."

Alessio hesitated for a second, then turned and left.

As the door swung open, I heard Aurelia's weak voice from down the hall.

"Alessio, I'm so scared... our baby..."

His footsteps faded away.

I sat on the cold examination chair, staring at my reflection in the mirror.

A white bandage wrapped around my head. A face as pale as a ghost.

The doctor was cleaning his tools. "Miss," he asked gently, "are you alright?"

I smiled, but fresh tears welled in my eyes.

"Doctor, how long can someone love another person?"

"I... I wouldn't know, miss."

"Me neither," I said, wiping my tears. "But I do know this. The moment you stop believing the promises, the love is already dead."

I stood up, paid the bill, and walked out of the clinic.

Fourteen days left.

The night wind was cold. It dried the tears on my face.

I glanced back at the clinic's warm light and whispered the truth to the empty street.

"Alessio, I don't believe you anymore."

For the next three days, I was confined to my room.

Laughter didn't return to the manor until the news came that Aurelia was well.

On the fourth day, one of Aurelia's maids knocked on my door, a practiced smile on her face.

"Miss Monroe, Mr. Santoro has commissioned a famous painter for a family portrait. It's your turn."

My heart didn't leap. It slammed against my ribs.

A portrait?

Did this mean they still saw me as part of the family?

The maid, as if reading my mind, added, "Besides, Lady Aurelia said you could retrieve what you came for after the portrait."

My grandmother's necklace.

Clinging to a sliver of hope, I changed into a respectable dress and walked to the manor's art studio.

The studio was bright, a massive canvas at its center.

But there was no chair for me.

I saw the nearly finished portrait. A grand, sweeping picture of a dynasty.

Alessio, in a black suit worthy of a Don, sat enthroned in a magnificent armchair.

His gaze was distant, fixed on the empire he commanded.

Aurelia, draped in virginal white silk, nestled beside him, cradling their sleeping daughter.

A perfect, sacred, untouchable family.

And I was the sinner who had stumbled into their temple, pathetic and out of place.

"You're here," Aurelia said without looking up, her eyes fixed on the artist's brush. "Come fix my dress. The hem is wrinkled."

Her tone was the one you'd use for a scullery maid.

I froze, the blood turning to ice in my veins.

"Thea," Alessio's brow furrowed, a flicker of impatience in his voice. "It's a small thing."

A small thing.

I swallowed the acid rising in my throat. And under his watchful eyes, and the artist's, I slowly knelt.

Just then, Alessio's phone rang. He took the call and stepped out.

As the door clicked shut, my fingers brushed against the cold, dead silk.

Humiliation wasn't a vine. It was a cage, its iron bars closing around my heart.

I smoothed every crease, as if I could iron out my own shattered pride.

"See how good Alessio is to me?" Aurelia purred in my ear. "He said to make up for my... ordeal, this portrait will hang in the main hall. The first thing every guest sees. So there is no confusion about who the true lady of the Santoro family is."

I finished with the dress and stood up, silent.

"My necklace?"

"Of course," she smiled, her back to the door. She held out the necklace, the pearls glowing softly.

Her hand moved toward me. Just as my fingertips were about to touch it, her wrist tilted.

The necklace slipped. It hit the hard floor.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," she gasped, feigning shock. She took a step, her sharp stiletto heel raised. "I lost my balance—"

Crack.

A small, heartbreaking sound.

The pearl, my last connection to my grandmother, was nothing but a smear of white dust on the floor.

"No!" The scream tore from my throat. I scrambled forward, trying uselessly to gather the dust between my fingers.

Just then, the door swung open.

Vito and Carmela stood there, their faces cold and judgmental.

Aurelia's face transformed in an instant. The vicious woman was gone, replaced by a terrified mother.

Tears streamed down her face as she backed away, clutching her daughter.

"Father! Mother! Thea's gone mad!" she shrieked. "She tried to take Lucia! She said if she couldn't hurt me, she'd hurt the baby to get back at Alessio!"

"Lies!" I scrambled to my feet, pointing a trembling finger at the dust. "She crushed my necklace!"

"Still lying!" Aurelia ripped back the baby's blanket, revealing several angry, red scratches on the infant's arm. "Look! This is what she was doing! Thank God you came when you did!"

Alessio burst back in, his eyes landing on his daughter's arm.

I stared.

The scratches.

When had they appeared?

I hadn't even touched the child.

"Thea, how could you be so cruel?" Alessio's voice was filled with disgust and rage.

"I didn't do it!" I stared at him, my eyes pleading. "Alessio, please, believe me! I swear I never touched that baby!"

SLAP!

Another sharp crack. Vito's hand struck my face with so much force I fell to the floor.

"You bitch! You hurt my granddaughter again and again!" His eyes were murderous. "I'll kill you for this!"

"Take her to the garage," Carmela ordered coldly. "Family business."

"No!" I looked at Alessio. "Alessio, save me! You know I'm not that person!"

He looked at me, his face torn.

"Alessio!" Carmela snapped. "She went after your own daughter! Are you still going to protect this snake?"

I saw the war in his eyes, and then I saw it die.

He turned his head.

"Take her," he said. His voice was pure ice.

I started to laugh. A wild, broken laugh as tears poured down my face.

"Thea Monroe, you are such a fool," I whispered to myself. "You actually believed the promise of a mafioso."

Two guards grabbed my arms and dragged me from the room.

The garage was cold and damp.

The first punch landed in my stomach. The pain doubled me over, but the memory was sharper. That warm afternoon, Alessio's hand on my belly. "Thea, if we have a baby, I hope it's a girl. Beautiful and kind, just like you."

A boot slammed into my ribs. I heard them crack. But the sound was drowned out by his promise, whispering in my memory: "Thea, I will protect you for the rest of my life. No one will ever hurt you. Not even me."

The third fist slammed into my back. I collapsed onto the cold concrete, the taste of blood in my mouth. But my mind was in the chapel, watching him kneel for ten days. "Thea, as long as I can marry you, I'll give up everything."

The punches and kicks rained down.

Every blow was a reminder. The sweet memories, the sacred vows... all of it was a lie.

My consciousness started to fade.

In the haze, I thought I heard someone screaming my name.

"Thea! Thea!"

Was that Alessio?

Or was I just imagining it?

The last blow landed on my temple.

The world went black.

Just before I lost consciousness, I heard frantic footsteps outside the door.

"Stop!" a voice roared.

But it was too late.