For a moment, I could have sworn my heart stopped beating.

The next, Rafael's deep, slightly raspy voice echoed down the hall.

"There is only one seat beside the Mancini throne. The marriage is a transaction of power. I didn't have a choice."

"Alessia is reserved, composed. I never imagined any other woman as my Donna."

Tears slid down my cheeks, seeping into the cold marble cracks.

Rafael's gaze seemed to look past the person in front of him, his mind filled with images of Alessia, a faint smile even touching his lips.

But seeing Nina before him, he snapped back to the present.

"But you, Nina... you were an unexpected complication."

"You brought me an heir."

After all, the woman before him was carrying his bloodline. He couldn't ignore her; he had to take responsibility.

His words pierced my chest, one by one.

I could no longer tell what hurt more: the mangled flesh of my leg, or my heart, which was already in pieces.

The memories of fighting side-by-side under the Sicilian sun began to flake away.

What I had thought was the trust of watching each other's backs in a hail of bullets, what I had thought was deep love, was nothing more than a prize he claimed after weighing the pros and cons.

How pathetic. The sole faith of my life had been to become his wife.

To secure his throne as Don, to clear every obstacle from his path.

The boy who put a Virgin Mary pendant around my neck with blood-stained hands after a gunfight died today.

My body finally gave out. The infected wound on my leg sent a fever raging through me.

Outside, Rafael must have finally noticed the deathly silence within. He kicked the prayer room door open, roaring at his men.

"Get out of the way! Get the family doctor over here!"

"If anything happens to Alessia, you'll all pay with your lives!"

In my delirium, I felt myself being lifted.

Then, I fell into a warm embrace.

That familiar scent, a mix of gunpowder and Cuban cigars, had once been the only sanctuary I craved.

But when I regained consciousness, my eyes opened to the ceiling of a cold, dim guest room.

Rafael sat in a high-backed chair, his face a mask of irritation and cold fury.

"Why didn't you say the wound was infected?"

"Are you always this stubborn, Alessia? When are you going to change?"

I didn't answer his question. My gaze swept impassively over the cramped, cold room.

It was obvious who was now occupying my master bedroom.

A cold smile touched my lips. I didn't even spare him a glance.

I pushed myself up and tore off the thick gauze wrapped around my calf.

The raw, newly stitched wound was exposed again. I pressed my fingertips against the rough sutures.

I kept pressing until crimson blood seeped from between the stitches, staining my fingers.

My cold indifference finally pushed Rafael over the edge. He shot to his feet. "Enough! Can't you tolerate anyone?"

"I moved Nina in for her own protection, not so you could torment her!"

"Forget it. You have eight months until Nina gives birth. Use that time to cool off. You will stay in this room and think about what you've done until you learn how to be a proper Donna!"

With that, Rafael turned and left without a second glance.

The heavy slam of the door shook dust from the corners of the room. I stared at the stark red on my fingertips.

My eyes were a barren, dead landscape.

I noticed the gash on my side had been meticulously treated by the doctor and couldn't help but let out a cold laugh.

He caused all my suffering, and now he was playing the hero?

From outside the door, I could faintly hear Nina's delicate laughter. I expressionlessly pulled out my encrypted phone.

I dialed the number for the Valentino family's Consigliere.

This Central Park penthouse had been a property I purchased under my own name.

I didn't want to stay in this heartbreaking place a moment longer.

I immediately used a shell corporation to transfer the property's title to the Russo family.

That evening, the servants prepared a lavish dinner, most of which consisted of seafood that Rafael was allergic to.

I glanced down from the second floor, remembering how I hadn't touched seafood for over a year because of his allergy when we used to dine together.

He had probably long forgotten that Italian seafood was my favorite. He was never one to compromise for me.

Now, for another woman, he could even overcome his body's own aversion.

The line between being loved and being tolerated had never been clearer.

Returning to what was once the master bedroom, I found that my luggage had already been cleared out.

That saved me some trouble.

I gathered my few belongings and turned to leave the guest room.

The door creaked open. Nina stood there, a cloying smile on her face.

"Miss Alessia? What is it, coming to see your old bedroom? So sorry, the Don says a pregnant woman's needs come first. This room is mine now."

She deliberately raised her hand. On her slender ring finger, a dazzling pigeon's blood ruby ring flashed under the light.

It was the heirloom passed down to every Mancini Donna.

She smirked. "If you're looking for any of your old things, you might want to check the trash. I got rid of all your junk."

"Oh, and I'm sorry, but the Don said the ring that symbolizes the family matriarch is mine now."

I looked at the ring that had once been custom-sized for me, my heart no longer feeling a single ripple.

I lowered my gaze, my voice as calm as a still, dead pool of water.

"Is that so? Then you'd better hold on to it tight."

"What you can steal by scheming today, someone else will steal from you tomorrow."

"I can give you the house, and I can give you the man. But remember this: you won't be the first, and you won't be the last."

The smile on Nina's face froze, her eyes turning venomous.

"Who are you trying to fool? You're just the whore he's tired of. All you have left is that sharp tongue of yours."

"I don't need you to 'give' me anything. Rafael will always choose me. You just wait and see!"

Just then, the sound of firm, urgent footsteps echoed from the end of the hall.

Hearing them, Nina let out a piercing scream.

She snatched a silver letter opener from the walnut desk beside her.

She dragged the blade across her arm, drawing a thin line of blood before letting it clatter to the floor at my feet.

Then she collapsed weakly to the floor, crying out, "Miss Alessia, I was just trying to ask for your forgiveness! Why would you do this to me?"

Before I could react, Rafael kicked the door open.

His gaze instantly locked onto Nina on the floor, then shifted to the bloodied weapon at my feet.

He didn't give me a chance to speak. His expression hardened, his verdict already passed.

Without a moment's hesitation, he strode forward, pulled her up from the floor, and held her tightly in his arms.

"When does it end with you, Alessia?"

Nina hid in his embrace, her hands protectively over her stomach, her voice weak.

"Miss Alessia, I already apologized to you. Why can't you just let me go?"

"The baby is innocent. Once he is born, I am willing to die to atone. I'm begging you, please spare the Mancini bloodline..."

I frowned, about to speak.

A cold command rang out in the hall. He didn't even look at me.

"Hold her down!"

I was forced to my knees, which crashed hard onto the wooden floor.

I looked at him in disbelief.

"You suspect me?"

After placing Nina on the bed, Rafael turned and walked toward me, his eyes filled with raw fury.

"Shouldn't I? First you throw her out of New York, then you shove her, and now this. This is the third time, Alessia!"

"What reason have you given me to believe you?"

I tilted my head back to look at the man who had once promised to love me with his life. The last spark of hope in my eyes died.

All the love I once felt turned to ash.

Rafael left with the injured Nina, leaving me with nothing but the sight of his retreating back.

That night, I sat alone in front of the fireplace.

I took all the love letters Rafael had ever written me, from the citrus groves of Sicily to the streets of New York.

One by one, I tossed them into the roaring flames.

The fire illuminated my face, burning everything to a pile of dead cinders.

At midnight, a message came from Giovanni.

"Principessa, everything is ready. See you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow."

I didn't see Rafael for a whole week.

The gossip rags occasionally published paparazzi photos of him.

He was either at an OB-GYN appointment or picking up prescriptions for Nina at the pharmacy.

On the day of the wedding, Rafael, dressed in an expensive custom suit, arrived with his procession of cars and parked in front of the penthouse that no longer belonged to him.

Before he could step out of his car, a black, bulletproof Cadillac screeched to a halt in front of him.

His second-in-command stumbled out of the car, his face pale with terror, shouting frantically:

"Boss, we have a problem. A huge one."

"The Valentino wedding is at St. Patrick's Cathedral... but the groom isn't you. It's Giovanni Russo!"