"I didn't do any of—"

My voice came out thin, barely there.

The charges were fabricated. Every last one. But Vittorio never bothered to investigate. He took Serafina's word as gospel, no questions asked. He really did love her that much.

A bitter laugh echoed somewhere inside my chest.

What followed was six hours of beatings. By the end, my vision went black and I lost consciousness entirely.

When I opened my eyes again, I was in a private clinic bed. The room smelled of antiseptic and, faintly, of the leather seats that had carried me here. Somewhere beyond the door, a soldier shifted his weight, the floorboard groaning under him like a held breath.

Vittorio sat beside me, his gaze flat and cold. His black signet ring was perfectly still against his knuckle. "Stop going after Serafina. Unless you want more of the same."

I said nothing.

During the two years he'd schemed to strip me of everything in the dissolution, I'd swallowed every kind of suffering there was. This time, I was going to carve out a future of my own.

Vittorio looked at my bruised, swollen face. Something unreadable flickered in his eyes. Then a phone rang, and his attention snapped away.

I glanced over without turning my head. The caller was Serafina.

The moment he picked up, his brow softened. His voice turned gentle.

All things that used to be mine.

Back then, he'd been the notorious troublemaker who ran the streets around Crestfall's old waterfront, and I was just a girl who'd gotten lost and stumbled onto him beating someone bloody behind the social club on Mulberry.

That one encounter was all it took. He latched onto me after that, impossibly tender and attentive with me while staying vicious toward everyone else. It didn't matter if they were women. He never spared them a second glance.

When he proposed in that grand, over-the-top spectacle at the cathedral steps, practically everyone said Vittorio Falcone was head over heels for me.

We became Crestfall's golden couple. The neighborhood papers and gossip columns tripped over themselves to cover our story. The comments were full of people calling us a fairy tale come to life.

Too bad fairy tales always end at the wedding. And what came after, for Vittorio and me, was everything those stories never bothered to tell.

"Something came up at the club. I need to handle it."

Vittorio stood and headed for the door. Just before it closed, I heard him murmur into the phone, "Whatever my girl wants, I'll get it for her."

I pulled my gaze back, picked up the phone on the nightstand, entered the passcode, and switched to the second operating system.

There was only one number in the contacts. I stared at it for a long time before I finally made myself dial.

He picked up almost instantly. A warm, rich voice came through the speaker: "Bianca. You finally decided to call me."

My heart stuttered. Heat flooded my ears. I turned the words over in my head, then forced them out through clenched teeth: "Could you... could you take me away? You mentioned a position in your family's operations before. I can do the work."

He didn't hesitate. "Of course. I've been holding that spot for you. When do you want to come?"

I pressed my lips together. "One week. Once I've settled things here, I'll be there."

His voice was steady, sincere. "All right. I'll come pick you up."

After the call ended, I finally let myself exhale. My thumb brushed once over the bare inside of my ring finger, and I realized there was nothing left to check for.

Three days in the clinic. Vittorio didn't visit once. Meanwhile, the gossip rags and society pages were wall-to-wall coverage of him and Serafina.

SHOCKING! Crestfall's Don Bids on Every Single Lot at Auction Just to Make His Hostess Smile!

BREAKING! Falcone Heir Takes Hostess Wedding-Dress Shopping for Alliance Ceremony!

On my very first day in the clinic, I'd received a message request from Serafina.

Over the next three days she sent me Vittorio's full itinerary, message after message. I forwarded every single one to Enzo D'Angelo and told him to move fast.

Ding.

Another taunt.

Serafina had sent a photo, smug as ever. It was a cemetery plot.

When I made out the names on the headstones, my pupils contracted to pinpoints.

Serafina called. My fingers were shaking as I answered.

She let out two soft laughs, her tone laced with venom. "What do you think about me bulldozing this place and putting up a nice public restroom?"

My mind went blank for a split second. I ground my molars together. "What the hell do you want, Serafina?"

Vittorio had bought that plot for my parents. He'd stood beside me in the rain that day, his soldiers waiting twenty paces back out of respect, and whispered, "From now on, I'm your only family. Wherever you are, that's home."

Promises from another lifetime. Punchlines now.

Serafina's voice kept coming, relentless: "You saw me in bed with him, and you still had the nerve to crawl back. Shameless."

"I was this close to marrying him. I'm the one who should be Donna Falcone!"

"You ruined my life, you worthless little tramp. So don't expect me to make yours easy."

She hung up without waiting for a reply.

I sat frozen for a beat, then scrambled to check myself out. The billing desk told me my account had insufficient funds.

I stared. I hadn't expected Vittorio to go that far.

I twisted the diamond ring off my finger and slid it across the counter. "Put this toward the bill."

I was leaving soon anyway. None of these things mattered anymore.

By the time I reached the cemetery, it was nothing but level ground.

Serafina was already there. Two of Vittorio's soldiers stood behind her at a respectful distance, hands folded, eyes empty. Her gaze swept over me, dripping with contempt and spite. "Oh, silly me. I forgot to dig out your parents' ashes first."

"Then again, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. I'm sure they're rotting in the lowest circle of hell by now."

"So really, ashes or no ashes, what's the difference?"

I was shaking from head to toe.

A calculating gleam crossed Serafina's eyes, and her lips curled into a cruel smile. "Tell you what. Get on your knees right now and knock your head on the ground a hundred times. Maybe, just maybe, I'll be generous enough to leave your parents' urn in one piece. If you refuse..."

I glared at her, cutting her off. "In your dreams."

Serafina scoffed.

Then, without warning, she seized my wrist and yanked me forward. The next second she toppled backward, stiff as a board. Behind her, a cement mixer was already pouring concrete over the flattened ground.

Serafina's face went white. "Don Falcone, save me—"

Before I could process what had happened, a shadow streaked past the corner of my vision. Vittorio hauled Serafina out.

He didn't give me a chance to speak. His face was stone. He drove his foot into my stomach and sent me skidding three yards across the dirt.

His voice was low, thick with fury. "Bianca. I gave you a chance."

"Take her to the basement. She comes out when she apologizes. Not before."

Soldiers dragged me to a car. As they pulled me away, I watched Vittorio guide Serafina into his vehicle with exquisite care, one hand hovering at the small of her back. His signet ring caught the last of the light as the door closed behind them.

Two cars of very different worth drove off in opposite directions.

Just like the distance between Vittorio and me. Growing wider with every passing second.

The entire time I was locked in that basement, I refused to apologize.

The sealed space made it hard to breathe. All I could do was curl into myself as tightly as possible, searching for some small scrap of comfort. The walls were raw concrete, the kind they poured for wine cellars in the old compound but never finished. Somewhere above me, floorboards creaked under the weight of soldiers doing their rounds.

Then a pair of leather shoes appeared in front of me. Vittorio stood over me, looking down. "Ready to admit you were wrong?"

I thought of the graves, leveled to nothing, and the stubbornness in me held. "I wasn't wrong. Vittorio, you know that plot of land—"

He cut me off before I could finish. "I know."

"Serafina wanted it. So I gave it to her."

I stared up at him, eyes wide. "You gave it to her?"

In that moment, I felt like I was looking at a stranger. Not the Don of the Falcone Family. Not the man whose name made soldiers stand straighter in every borough of Crestfall. A stranger. Someone whose face I recognized but whose soul I no longer did.

Vittorio shrugged it off. "Serafina is beautiful and kind. If she hadn't carried me out of those mountains, I probably wouldn't be alive today."

"Bianca, all you have to do is admit you were wrong, and I'll let you out."

The mountains? Serafina saved him?

Three years ago, when Vittorio was stranded in the mountains after a deal gone wrong near the border, I was the one who hauled him out. Step by step, his weight on my back, through the snow. The blood from his side had soaked through my coat by the time we reached the road. He survived. I ended up in the hospital for two weeks. When I finally woke up, the first thing I learned was that he'd been carrying on with Serafina behind my back the entire time. That was what ended our marriage.

But how had the person who saved him become Serafina?

I opened my mouth. "Vittorio, maybe you should look into—"

"Don Falcone, please don't be hard on her. It's all my fault. I lost my footing and fell on my own. She absolutely did not push me…"

Serafina clicked over in her heels and positioned herself at Vittorio's side, instantly pulling every ounce of his attention. The basement door was still open behind her, and for one breath I could see the hallway light and the shadow of a soldier stepping aside to let her pass. Even in this house, she moved as if she owned it.

The moment I met her eyes, full of calculation and triumph, I understood. Serafina had stolen credit for what I'd done.

Vittorio wrapped his arm around Serafina's slim waist, his voice tender. "What are you doing out of bed? The doctor said you need rest."

Serafina leaned into him, her voice a syrupy whine. "I missed you. And it looks like she still hasn't realized what she did wrong. Maybe you should toss something in there with her. I hear people confess to anything when they're scared enough."

Vittorio gave her an approving glance, then turned to the soldiers by the door. "You two. Go put my pets in there."

The word pets sent ice through my veins.

Vittorio had a particular hobby. He kept centipedes, spiders, and snakes. Cold-blooded creatures, all of them. Other men in the Family kept guard dogs or fighting breeds. Vittorio kept things that moved in silence and struck without warning. It said everything about him that I had been too blind to read.

The first time I'd seen them, I'd asked him, "They won't bite me, will they?"

Back then, Vittorio had looked me in the eye and promised, with every appearance of sincerity: "Don't worry. As long as I'm here, I will never let them hurt you. I won't let anyone hurt you."

I never imagined this day would come so soon.

When the centipedes and spiders were released into the basement, my scalp went numb. They moved as if drawn to me, locking onto my position with terrible precision, swarming up my body in a crawling, writhing mass. Tiny, sharp stabs of pain, over and over, until I could barely think. My thumb pressed hard against the bare inside of my ring finger, but even that small anchor was disappearing under the crawling weight of them.

Vittorio's expression wavered.

Serafina pressed her fingertips to her temple, her voice going faint. "Oh no, Don Falcone, I think I'm feeling a little unwell…"

Without a word, Vittorio scooped her into his arms and walked away. His signet ring caught the light from the hallway, perfectly still on his knuckle. He did not look back.

I lifted my head just in time to catch Serafina peering back over his shoulder. Our eyes met. She mouthed the words silently: You deserve this, you worthless tramp.

I clenched my jaw and slammed my hands down on the insects, crushing every one I could reach.

Only one thought kept me alive: I am not dying here.

When I came to again, the sharp sting of antiseptic filled my nostrils. I frowned, the smell alone enough to make my stomach turn.

I struggled to sit up, but Vittorio's voice cut through the silence before I could manage it. "You're hurt. Rest. What are you squirming around for?" A pause, then a sigh heavy with irritation. "You never make anything easy."

I clenched my fingers into the bedsheet. "And whose fault is it that I ended up like this?"

Vittorio's expression froze for a split second before hardening over. His signet ring was still against his knuckle, not turning, not moving at all. "You brought this on yourself. Don't blame anyone else."

His words drove through my chest like a blade, buried themselves deep in my heart. The pain stole every word I might have said.

When I stayed silent, he opened his mouth to speak again, but a shrill ringtone cut him off.

He answered, and just like that, his voice softened without him even seeming to notice.

"Serafina... yeah... I'll pick some up for you on my way over..."

He hung up and the warmth vanished, replaced by ice. "Serafina is being generous this time. She's not pressing charges. Her birthday is in two days. Don't show your face there."

Two days. That was exactly when I'd planned to leave.

I lowered my gaze and said nothing.

The moment Vittorio walked out, the soldier stationed in the corridor pulling the door shut behind him, my phone buzzed with a text from Serafina.

Don't kid yourself into thinking Vittorio actually cares about you. He's planning to propose to me at my birthday gala. You're welcome to come watch, of course, but he'd really rather you didn't.

I turned off the phone and stared out the window at the blue sky and drifting clouds. My mind pulled me back to the day Vittorio had proposed to me.

After I'd said yes, he'd lifted me off my feet and spun me around, laughing, again and again. He'd even had fireworks set off over Crestfall for nine straight nights to celebrate. Every family in the territory had known what those lights meant. The Don was claiming his bride, and the sky itself was supposed to remember it.

Back then, he'd been so happy he wanted the whole world to know I was his.

But after that... everything changed. The estate was the same. The man was not.

The next day, I was discharged and went home. I punched in the door code at the front gate, and the screen flashed red. Incorrect password.

I tried again. And again. Each time the same cold rejection blinked back at me, until the lock froze me out entirely.

That code, the one my fingers had entered thousands upon thousands of times, now told me I didn't belong here.

I remembered the day I'd first moved into this house. Vittorio had taken my hand, and together we'd set the password.

"Just in case a certain someone forgets," he'd said with a grin, "I picked the day we got together."

That date was also my birthday. There was no way I'd gotten it wrong.

Yet the alarm kept blaring, each beep a slap across my face.

I was still standing there, frozen, when the door swung open from inside.

Serafina stood in the doorway wearing my silk nightgown. She yawned, slow and lazy, as if she'd just rolled out of bed. The faint scent of Vittorio's cologne clung to the fabric.

Then she swept her hair to one side, deliberately baring a neck mottled with hickeys. Her eyes glittered with satisfaction she didn't bother to hide.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, sweetie. Vittorio brought me home last night, and I threw a little fit, so he changed the code." She tilted her head, lips curling. "Guess he forgot to tell you."

My thumb brushed once over the bare inside of my ring finger. The gate sensor pulsed red behind me, patient and indifferent, waiting for a code that no longer existed.