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.

When I woke up, the first person I saw was Alessio.

He was sitting by my hospital bed, his face etched with exhaustion and guilt.

"Thea, you're awake." He reached for my hand. I pulled it away.

"Don't touch me," I rasped. My voice was like sandpaper.

"Thea, I'm sorry," he whispered, his eyes filled with a pain that looked real. "I know you suffered. But I couldn't stop him. If I'd defied my father, he would have made it worse for you."

I stared at the ceiling. "So you just watched them beat me."

"I was protecting you—"

"Protecting me?" I let out a cold laugh. "Alessio, do you really think I'm stupid enough to believe that bullshit?"

He was silent for a long time.

I turned my head to face him, tears welling in my eyes. I met his eyes. "Alessio. Do you believe me? Do you believe I didn't hurt that baby?"

His gaze flickered away for a second.

"Everyone saw what happened."

Those words pierced my heart.

"And besides, Thea, you keep making trouble," he said, his tone shifting to blame. "Aurelia is pregnant. You keep provoking her. The doctor says her emotional state is fragile. What if—"

"Enough," I cut him off. "Get out."

"Thea—"

"Get out!" I screamed the words with all the strength I had left.

He was taken aback by my fury. He stood, fumbling for an explanation.

"Thea, I know you feel wronged, but please, try to understand my position." His voice was soft again. "Once Aurelia has the boy, once this is all settled, we can go back to how things were."

I closed my eyes as a tear slid down my temple.

"How things were?" I laughed, a broken sound. "Alessio, we can never go back."

He was about to say more, but a sharp knock came from the door.

"Mr. Santoro, Miss Rossi is very agitated. She's asking for you."

Alessio hesitated. "I'll be right back."

He left.

And he never came back.

Three days later, I was discharged. A hard New York rain was falling. Nine days left until my departure.

Alessio's black sedan was waiting at the hospital entrance.

I walked toward it, pulling my small suitcase, and saw Aurelia sitting in the passenger seat.

She was holding her daughter, and her eyes were wide with fear when she saw me.

"Alessio, I'm scared to be in the same car as her," she whimpered. "What if she tries to hurt the baby again—"

"It's okay, Aurelia. Don't be afraid," Alessio said, patting her hand gently.

Then he pulled a black card from his wallet and held it out to me.

"Thea, just wait here. Another car from the family will be here soon."

The rain was cold, plastering my hair to my face.

"How long do I have to wait?"

"Not long," he said, starting the engine. "We'll talk when you get back to the house."

The sedan vanished into the gray mist.

I stood on the curb, the rain soaking through my thin jacket, staring at the black card in my hand. So this was my worth. A problem he could pay to make go away.

The rain came down harder.

I waited for two hours. No car came.

I called Alessio's phone. It went straight to voicemail.

I called the family driver. No answer.

As night fell, I finally understood.

No one was coming for me.

I picked up my suitcase and started walking back to the estate, one step at a time, through the storm.

Rain soaked through my clothes and blurred my vision.

Halfway there, my foot slipped. I fell into a deep, muddy puddle on the side of the road.

The icy water seeped into my bones.

I just lay there, looking up at the dark sky, and started to laugh.

This is what you get for loving Alessio Santoro.

It was eleven o'clock by the time I finally made it back to the house. I was soaked to the bone, looking like a drowned rat.

I stood in the foyer, about to head upstairs, when I heard Aurelia crying in the living room.

"Alessio, it hurts so much... My breasts are so full... The doctor said I have to take care of it or I'll get an infection..."

I stopped dead in my tracks.

"Get a nanny," Alessio's voice was tight.

"But the nanny's asleep," Aurelia purred. "And for something this... intimate... I only trust you. Please, Alessio. It really hurts..."

Silence. A heavy, suffocating silence.

I held my breath, listening.

"Alright," Alessio finally said, his voice low and gravelly. "Just this once."

"Thank you, Alessio... You're so good to me..."

My world shattered.

I heard the rustle of fabric. I heard Aurelia's soft, breathy moans. I heard Alessio's heavy breathing.

"Just relax," he said, his voice quiet.

I wanted to run, to scream, to pretend I hadn't heard anything.

But my feet were stone, but somehow I moved closer. And I saw it. His head dipped low. His lips closed over her pale, swollen breast.