I stared at the glass of blood-red wine in Cassandra's hand. I didn't move.

This wasn't an apology. It was a performance.

A show for Lorenzo, a play about forgiveness and reconciliation. And I was the prop that had to play along.

"I don't drink," I said, my voice dead flat.

Cassandra's face froze. Annoyance flashed in her eyes.

The guests started whispering immediately. Their stares felt like needles.

"So ungrateful."

"Miss Viti is being so gracious, and she's acting like this?"

Lorenzo's face darkened completely.

He stepped up beside me, his voice low and threatening. "Bella, don't make a scene. Drink it."

I looked up, straight into his deep eyes. They used to be my entire sky.

"And if I don't?"

"This isn’t a request," he said, his voice dropping. "This is how it ends. Drink it."

An end?

My surrender, so he could put a neat little bow on his betrayal?

I let out a cold laugh and turned my head away.

Lorenzo was silent for a moment. The air felt thick enough to cut.

When he spoke again, he used the only weapon he had left that could destroy me.

"Drink the wine," he said, his voice slow, a devil's whisper, "and I'll take you to see Nonna."

Nonna.

My heart seized. It felt like a fist was crushing it. I couldn't breathe.

She was the only family I had left in the world. My only weakness.

He knew. He always knew.

I looked at him, the man I once loved with all my soul, using my most cherished person to force this humiliation down my throat.

I snatched the glass from Cassandra’s hand. Without looking at anyone, I tilted my head back and drank it all.

The cold liquid slid down my throat, with a faint, bitter aftertaste.

A triumphant glint appeared in Cassandra's eyes, quickly replaced by a look of tearful gratitude. "Oh, Bella! I knew you'd forgive me!"

Fake applause echoed through the room. Lorenzo seemed to relax. He’d completed his "mission."

He turned back to Cassandra and began comforting her, like soothing a frightened child.

His attention, once a precious thing that was all mine, was now being wasted on another woman.

Guest after guest came up to me, glasses in hand.

"Welcome home, Mrs. Romano!"

"To your return, Ma'am!"

I went through the motions, numb. But my stomach was starting to churn.

A familiar pain was waking up deep in my abdomen.

An old injury from prison.

The bitterness from the wine was now spreading through my blood.

My vision started to blur. The noise of the party twisted and warped into the sound of a cell door slamming shut.

"Be careful, don't touch the cut," I heard Lorenzo's gentle voice.

I turned my head. He was carefully holding Cassandra's wrist, where there was a tiny, almost invisible scratch.

Meanwhile, a thousand knives were twisting in my gut.

Cold sweat soaked my back.

I instinctively pressed a hand to my stomach. My fingertips were ice.

"Lorenzo..." I whispered his name, my voice barely audible.

He didn't look up. He was talking to Cassandra. "Is the steak too tough? I'll have them make you another one."

The pain was making my vision go black. I couldn't hold on.

My throat tightened. A metallic taste filled my mouth.

Cough.

A trickle of blood escaped my lips. It dripped onto my white dress, a single red flower blooming on the fabric.

My body swayed. Surrounded by a sea of shocked faces and gawking eyes, I collapsed.

In the last second before I lost consciousness, I heard Lorenzo’s stunned voice, and Cassandra’s shriek of thinly veiled delight.

I woke up to the familiar ceiling of the family's private clinic.

Lorenzo was sitting by the bed. He'd changed into a clean shirt. His face was dark.

"The doctor said it was just a stomach spasm from anxiety," he said, his voice cold as ice. "It's nothing serious."

Nothing serious?

I coughed up blood.

“Isabella,” he cut me off, his eyes like chips of ice. “When did you become such a good actress? So damn calculating?”

Acting?

My heart plunged into an icy abyss.

He would rather believe I was a manipulative actress than believe the real pain in my body.

"You think I was acting?" My voice was hoarse, laced with a bitter laugh.

Lorenzo looked away, a flicker of unease on his face. His voice softened slightly. "Bella, that's not what I meant..."

He reached for my hand. I pulled it back with all my strength.

Three years in prison, plus the internal bleeding, had left me weak.

But not too weak to refuse him.

"I know you've been through a lot," Lorenzo said, his voice gentle now, like he was calming a child throwing a tantrum. "But I need you to hold on a little longer."

Hold on? For what? To watch him and Cassandra play out their epic romance while I faded into the background?

“Two more wishes,” Lorenzo said, his voice flat, final. “Then we’re gone. Lake Como. Just us. We’ll never come back.”

Lake Como.

Our honeymoon spot. The most beautiful memory of our love.

Now it was just another bargaining chip.

"Where is Nonna?" I asked weakly. It was the only thing I cared about.

Lorenzo's face shifted. "She's… not well. She's in a private care facility."

"I want to see her."

"When you're feeling better…"

"Now." I used my last bit of strength to look him in the eye. "I want to see her now."

Lorenzo opened his mouth, about to argue.

Just then, the door flew open.

Marco rushed in, his face a mask of panic.

"Boss! It's Cassandra. She's locked herself in. She's threatening to kill herself!"

Lorenzo was on his feet in an instant.

He looked at me, a moment of conflict in his eyes. But it only lasted a second.

"I'll be right there," he said to me, then rushed out the door without a backward glance.

For Cassandra. Always for Cassandra.

I closed my eyes, my heart a dead weight in my chest.

"Ma'am…"

A soft voice.

I opened my eyes. A young nurse was standing by my bed.

She glanced nervously down the hall, then pulled a folded paper from her pocket.

"Ma'am, this is your real test result."

My hands trembled as I took it. The diagnosis made my breath catch: rupture of an old abdominal injury with internal bleeding, and traces of psychotropic drugs found in the bloodstream. Immediate surgery required.

"What does this mean?"

The nurse lowered her voice. “Ma’am, your old injury is severe. That drug they gave you? It’s designed to trigger exactly what happened. Someone gave your husband a fake report. They told him it was nothing.”

A fake report. Drugs.

I let out a bitter laugh.

"You need surgery now," the nurse said urgently. "If you wait, it could be fatal!"

I picked up my phone and dialed Lorenzo.

"What is it?" His voice was impatient. In the background, I could hear Cassandra's muffled sobs.

"Lorenzo, I need surgery. Now."

"Isabella, stop causing trouble! Didn't the doctor say it was just a stomach cramp?" he snapped. "Cassandra's in a bad state. I don't have time for your games!"

Beep. Beep. Beep.

He hung up on me.

Games. To him, my life was just a game to get his sympathy.

"Ma'am," the nurse looked at me, worried. "The cost of the surgery…"

"I'll pay for it."

A familiar voice came from the doorway.

I turned my head. Sofia stood there. My friend from prison. The only friend I had left.

She looked like she'd rushed over as soon as she heard.

"Son of a bitch," Sofia swore, her face grim after reading the report. She slapped a black card down for the nurse. "Get her the best doctor, the best medicine. Everything."

The surgery was a success.

Three hours later, I was in the recovery room. Sofia was sitting by my bed, peeling an apple.

"Sofia," I said suddenly. "I need you to do something for me."

"Name it."

"A month from now, I need a new identity. And a passport."

Sofia's hand stilled. She gave me a long, hard look, then nodded.

"Done."

…

An hour later, Lorenzo finally showed up, a guilty look on his face.

"Bella, are you okay? I heard about the surgery."

I looked at him. My heart was a block of ice.

He’d seen the real report. Marco stood behind him, his face pale.

The worry and pain in Lorenzo’s eyes were real. He slammed his fist into the wall.

BAM.

"Bastards!"

He turned back to me, his voice hoarse. "Bella, we looked into it. It was the Viti family doctor… he doctored the report. I'll make him pay."

"And Cassandra?" I asked calmly.

Lorenzo’s expression became complicated.

“She… fell apart when she heard,” he said, forcing the words out. “Threatened to kill herself again. And she used it. It was her second wish.”

My heart sank.

"She wants me to… publicly acknowledge her as my mistress," Lorenzo said, his eyes filled with pain and conflict. "And, until her last wish is granted, I have to stay by her side. Every minute. To protect her until she's stable."

I looked at this man. For the sake of a "wish," he was pushing me away again.

"Bella, trust me," he said, taking my hand. "There's only one left. When this is all over, I swear, I will make it up to you. I'll spend my life making it up to you."

Lorenzo picked me up from the clinic himself. The drive was silent.

The car stopped in front of our old home, the penthouse in Manhattan.

This was our home. Our sanctuary. The place we’d built a life. Where we’d spent countless nights tangled in the sheets, whispering secrets into the dark.

The moment the door opened, I froze.

This wasn't my home anymore.

The warm, cream-colored walls were gone, replaced with cold black and gray. The Italian sofa I'd picked out myself was gone.

I walked to what used to be my art studio. My only sanctuary in this cold city.

I pushed open the door. It was a gym now. A treadmill glowed with a soft blue light.

My easel, my paints, my unfinished canvases…

Every trace of me had been erased.

"Bella…" Lorenzo stood behind me, his voice tinged with an awkwardness he couldn't hide. "I… I was going to wait for you to get back before I cleaned up."

"Cleaned up?" I stared at him. "Or erased? Erased every trace that I ever lived here?"

"No," he said quickly, gesturing at the cold machines. "Cassandra was unstable. I had her stay here for a while. She said working out helps…"

Cassandra stayed here?

In our home? Slept in our bed?

Click.

Before I could say anything, the master bedroom door opened. A lazy voice drifted out.

"Lorenzo, you're back! I can't find the hairdryer…"

Cassandra emerged, wearing nothing but one of Lorenzo’s white button-downs. The hem skimmed the top of her thighs. Her hair was damp, and the clean scent of his soap clung to her skin. She looked like she owned the place. She looked like the lady of the house.

She saw me and froze for a second. Then a sweet, innocent smile spread across her face, as if we were old friends.

"Bella! You're out of the hospital! That's wonderful!"

She hurried towards me, arms open for a hug. I took a step back. My stomach turned.

"What are you doing here?" my voice was ice.

"I… I came to see Lorenzo," she said, blinking innocently at him. "I heard you were in the hospital. I was so worried…"

Worried? Worried I wasn't dying fast enough?

Lorenzo jumped in. "Cassandra is just… staying here temporarily. It's easier to look after her." He quickly changed the subject. "Bella, your clothes…"

"Oh, right!" Cassandra said, as if she'd just remembered. Her tone was light and cheerful. "I had all your old clothes thrown out. They had that… prison smell on them. Lorenzo doesn't like it. He said it reminds him of bad times. I figured you wouldn't want them anyway, right?"

A lie. But it was a sharp knife, and it went straight for my heart.

Lorenzo cleared his throat. "Bella, Cassandra meant well. We'll go to Fifth Avenue. I'll buy you the best of everything."

I watched them, a perfectly rehearsed duo. I felt sick.

"Fine," I said flatly. "Let's go."

"Great!" Cassandra chirped like a happy child. "Let me just go change!"

I watched her walk back into our master bedroom like she owned the place. The last bit of warmth in my heart died.

The car stopped in front of a high-end boutique on Fifth Avenue.

"Get my wife some clothes," Lorenzo told the bowing store manager.

"Lorenzo, why don't you go check out the watch shop next door?" Cassandra said, tugging on his arm like a spoiled child. "I'll help Bella pick some things out. A woman knows a woman's taste."

Lorenzo hesitated, looking at me.

"Whatever," I said, my face blank.

He nodded. "Okay. I'll be right next door. Call me if you need anything."

The second Lorenzo was gone, Cassandra's sweet smile vanished. In its place was the cold, vicious sneer of a winner.

She walked right up to me, her voice low enough for only me to hear.

"Do you see now, Isabella? This is the difference between you and me. In Lorenzo's heart, a single one of my tears weighs more than your life."

I stared at her. I said nothing.

"Still playing the saint? You really think Lorenzo loves you?" My silence seemed to infuriate her. Her voice grew sharp. "He's trapped by that ridiculous blood oath! As soon as my last wish is granted, he'll throw you out like trash!"

Just as she finished, a loud noise erupted outside.

BANG! BANG, BANG—

Gunshots.

The store descended into chaos. People screamed and scrambled for cover.

Cassandra’s face twisted into the perfect mask of terror.

But for a split second, I saw it. A flicker of triumph in her eyes. A plan, executed to perfection.

The next instant, Lorenzo burst through the door.

His eyes found Cassandra instantly through the chaos.

"Cassandra!" he roared, lunging toward her without a second thought.

Tears streamed down her face as she threw herself into his arms, clinging to him.

"Lorenzo, I'm so scared! I'm so scared!"