It rang once.

Then a voice I hadn't heard in too long answered, velvet and lethal. "Well, well. Look who finally crawled back. To what do I owe the pleasure, bella mia?"

"I'll marry you," I whispered, swallowing the last of my pride, "but only if you help me burn Dominic Castellano and his entire empire to the fucking ground."

There was a pause. Then a low chuckle. "Ah, revenge and a wedding. My two favorite things. When should I pick you up?"

"Six days," I said. "I've got some ghosts to bury first."

I hung up, tossed the phone on the bed, and looked in the mirror. The woman staring back at me wasn't broken. She was just getting started.

And Dominic? He taught me everything I needed to know to end him.

Dominic didn't come home that night.

I didn't sleep. I couldn't.

The pain from the surgery throbbed like a slow, cruel heartbeat. My womb was gone. My baby was gone. And I couldn't stop crying, no matter how hard I bit my tongue or screamed into the sheets.

But by sunrise, the tears had dried. So had my heart. I lay there like stone while the doctor came in for vitals, clipboard in hand like he wasn't part of the crime. The Family kept their own physicians on retainer, men who knew how to treat gunshot wounds, set broken bones, and keep their mouths shut. This one had the same dead calm as the rest of them.

"How are you feeling, Mrs. Castellano?"

I stared at the ceiling. "Can I leave now?"

He blinked, surprised. "I, uh, I'll sort out the discharge."

I didn't need rest. I didn't need sympathy. I needed revenge. Then I called a consigliere I found through a burner number, one who operated outside any Family's jurisdiction.

"I'd like to file for a divorce," I said, no emotion.

"Understood. I'll send the digital forms. You'll get the official papers in three days."

I hung up.

A few minutes later, the doctor came back, this time with Dominic's driver.

"Mr. Castellano asked me to bring you home, ma'am," the driver said, awkwardly avoiding my gaze. The holster beneath his jacket shifted as he moved. "He's cooking your favorite meal."

I almost laughed. That bastard didn't even know what I liked.

Still, I nodded. "Sure. Let's go."

The compound was just as I left it. Cold, spotless, soulless. Not a single frame out of place, not a speck of dust to suggest anything had ever truly lived here. The iron gate had swung open for us without a word from the guardhouse, and the gravel drive curved past hedgerows trimmed with military precision. But it was the scene in the living room that stopped me dead.

Valentina.

Reclined like a queen on my couch, in a blood-red designer dress that clung to her baby bump. Her manicured fingers curled around a glass of wine, legs crossed like she owned the place. One hand rested flat against her stomach, the gesture so practiced it looked almost sacred.

And beside her, preening and fussing over her shoulder like a proud mother hen, was my mother-in-law: the same woman who once told me I should be grateful her son "lowered himself" to marry an orphan with "no breeding."

My hand drifted to the hollow of my throat before I could stop it. My body froze.

Valentina looked up with a sugar-sweet smile.

"Oh, you're finally here, Sofia..."

Ginevra's voice cracked through the air like a whip. She adjusted the strand of pearls at her throat. "Why is she even here? She has no place in this family. She's a nobody. I never understood why my son didn't throw her barren ass out years ago."

I clenched my fists until my nails broke skin. But I didn't answer. I had heard worse. From worse.

I turned for the stairs.

I was halfway up when the sharp pain shot through my scalp.

"AH—!"

My head snapped back as she yanked my hair viciously. I stumbled, nearly falling. Then came the slap. Sharp, ringing, the ring on her hand slicing across my cheek like a blade. The Castellano family crest, set in heavy gold, left its mark the way everything in this house did.

"Ungrateful bitch," she snarled. "Can't even say hello? You forget your manners while you aborted your bastard child?"

My vision blurred but not with tears. With rage.

I slowly turned, blood dripping from my cheek, and looked her dead in the eye.

"Why don't you ask your son?" I said, my voice low, shaking. "Ask Dominic why my daughter died!"

The room froze. Valentina's smile faltered. Her hand pressed harder against her stomach. Ginevra's eyes narrowed, uncertain.

"Ask him," I said, louder now, "while he was busy watching a concert with his mistress. While he was kissing her in public. While he was ordering men to kill my baby girl, for her."

Valentina went pale. Ginevra blinked, lips parting ever so slightly. The silence stretched. Somewhere deeper in the compound, a door closed, and footsteps paused. Even the soldiers knew when to stop moving.

Then the hand came again. This one cracked across my face like thunder.

"Stop accusing my son for your incompetence," she spat. "You couldn't even protect your own child. You were never fit to be a mother."

I staggered back.

And then—

"Enough, Ma."

Dominic's voice cut through the venom.

He stepped into the room wearing an apron, wiping his hands like a man who'd been prepping dinner instead of orchestrating bloodshed. A wooden spoon dangled casually from his fingers. The acting Boss of the Castellano Family, standing in the kitchen doorway like a Sunday father from a world that didn't exist.

"Leave my wife alone," he said.

He turned to me, reaching for my face like nothing had happened in the last twenty-four hours. Like I hadn't learned what he'd done.

"How are you feeling, babe?"

I jerked back like his touch burned. The man who used to feel like home now smelled like poison.

"Sofia," he said sternly. "Apologize. To my mother. And to Valentina. What kind of manners are those?"

I let out a laugh, dry and bitter as smoke.

"What are they doing here?"

"She always talks to you like that?" his mother snapped.

Valentina gave a sigh, ever the martyr.

"I should go. I don't want to be the reason you two fight."

That's when I heard the little voice.

"Daddy? Why is that lady yelling?"

I turned slowly toward the hallway and saw her.

A girl. Maybe four. Curly dark hair. Dominic's eyes. Dominic's dimples. My lungs collapsed inward. My legs nearly buckled.

"Who is she?" I whispered.

Dominic didn't miss a beat. "Valentina's daughter is from her late husband. She's a widow now. She's also my household coordinator, and they're moving in since the compound is too big for just the two of us. She's pregnant and she can't stay alone."

"And call you Daddy? Wow."

He shrugged. "She's just confused. She likes it. I don't want to upset her."

I just laughed. Now I saw it clearly. That child was his daughter with Valentina. But when I was pregnant with a girl, he killed her without mercy and still had the audacity to act like a saint.

He walked toward the dining table, uncovering a steaming bowl of seafood.

"I made your favorite."

The scent hit me like a wave of poison. Shellfish. I was allergic. Deathly. Five years of marriage, and he didn't remember.

Or maybe he did.

My stomach twisted. I doubled over and vomited right there on the marble floor.

Valentina recoiled. "Oh my God, Sofia," she gasped, her hand flying to her stomach. "You could've just said you wanted me gone. Did you really have to vomit on me and my daughter?"

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, glaring up at her. "You're ten feet away. Don't flatter yourself."

Dominic's hand clamped around my arm like iron. He yanked me down, dragging me to my knees. The marble was cold through the fabric. Somewhere behind us, a soldier shifted his weight but said nothing. No one ever said anything.

"You want to act like trash?" he hissed, eyes flat and soulless. "Then get on the fucking floor where trash belongs." His face was inches from mine. "Apologize," he said, voice trembling with rage. "Right fucking now. Or I'll make you lick that vomit off the tile like the dog you're acting like."

"You should've killed me too, Dominic. Because now? I have nothing left to lose."

But Valentina whimpered behind him, clutching her stomach. "Dominic, I feel dizzy… I think it's the smell. I can't… I think I'm gonna faint."

Without another word, he ran to her and swooped her into his arms like I didn't exist.

"Clean that up!" he barked over his shoulder as he disappeared into the hallway with his real family.

His mother hissed at me as she followed, the pearls at her throat catching the light as she turned.

I wiped my face, cleaned up the mess like a good little wife, then went upstairs.

Our bedroom looked like a crime scene.

Five years I'd slept beside that man. Trusted him. Loved him.

I sat on the bed and pulled open a drawer. Inside was a sealed envelope, the resignation form I'd written weeks ago, back when I still believed in the future. When I thought giving birth meant stepping away from the Family's operations and building something peaceful.

Now I had nothing but fire left.

I packed the form with the upcoming divorce papers and began tearing down the photos on the wall. Our wedding at the cathedral, the trip to the Amalfi Coast, our first night in the compound. All lies. All poisoned. I threw every necklace, every bracelet, every ring he ever gave me into a box.

That's when the door opened.

Dominic stepped inside and froze.

"What the hell's going on?" he asked, eyes narrowing.

I didn't even flinch. "I don't want any of it. I'm giving them away."

"Is this about what happened downstairs?" he asked, stepping closer. "I didn't mean to lose it. I'll get you better gifts. I just… I need you to try with Valentina. She's my friend and trusted household coordinator."

I looked up at him. "Okay."

"She's staying, Sofia. Like it or not. I'll tell her to come up and smooth things over."

He kissed my cheek, because I wouldn't give him my lips, and walked out like everything was solved.

Ten minutes later, Valentina strutted into my room.

She looked around like she already owned the place. Her hand rested flat against her stomach, casual and deliberate, the way it always did when she was about to say something calculated.

"Good. Get all your crap out. I'll be moving in soon."

I didn't look up. "Take it all. I won't be here long."

She laughed, smug and triumphant. "Dominic told me everything. Want to hear a little secret I've kept for four years? My daughter is his. I was the other woman… but not anymore. I'm done playing mistress. I'm carrying his son now, so guess what? He doesn't need you. He gave you a chance, but you blew it and got pregnant with a girl. So, yeah… sorry your baby girl died. But she was never part of the plan."

I sat down on the bed, quiet. "I see you're proud. Enjoy it. If my pain makes you happy, soak it in."

Her smile faltered. She stared at me. "Why aren't you mad? You should be breaking things! Screaming!" she hissed. "Dominic did this to you because I asked him to!"

I met her gaze, steady. "Then congrats. You win. He's all yours."

She snapped. "You pathetic bitch!" she screamed and lunged for me, grabbing my wrist.

"Get your hands off me," I warned.

But she yanked harder and dragged me toward the hallway. Then she screamed.

"Sofia, no—!"

And threw herself down the stairs. I heard the thud, the scream, the crash. Then came running footsteps.

Dominic. His mother. His daughter.

They froze at the bottom of the staircase, Valentina sprawled in a pool of blood, unmoving.

Dominic's eyes lifted to mine, red and wild. "What the fuck did you do?!"

I stood frozen at the top of the stairs, my hand still gripping the rail, heart pounding like a war drum. Valentina's body was crumpled at the bottom, silent, unmoving. It wasn't the fall that broke me. It was Lucia's scream.

"Mommy!"

Her tiny hands were shaking her, sobbing so hard her body trembled.

Then Dominic turned to me. Those cold black eyes, the ones that used to promise protection, were now a loaded gun aimed at my throat.

"If she dies or the baby, you better pray hell takes you in fast," he said, voice like ice cracking. Then he picked her up like some hero in a fucked-up story, Lucia clutching his side, sobbing.

His mother didn't spare a second before spitting at me. "Rot in hell, you cursed whore!!!"

No one asked me what happened. No one even looked me in the eye. That's the power Valentina had. She snapped her fingers and they all saw me as the villain.

I stayed there. On the stairs. Frozen.

Until two of Dominic's soldiers barged in like I was a damn prisoner of war. They didn't say a word. Just grabbed me, yanked my arms behind my back and dragged me out like trash.

"What the hell are you doing?! Let me go!" I screamed.

But screaming means nothing when you're married to the devil.

They shoved me into one of Dominic's black SUVs, the kind used to dump bodies in the river. And when we pulled up, I realized we were at his private clinic, the one tucked behind a Family-owned pharmacy on the waterfront, where they cover up his crimes with cash and silence.

The second I was hauled inside, Dominic was there.

"Dominic! What is this? I didn't touch her. I swear—"

The slap came so fast my head snapped sideways. Metallic warmth filled my mouth. Blood.

He leaned in, eyes blazing with hatred. "I'm done playing games with you. You'll donate your blood to Valentina. You pushed her, now you'll save her."

I coughed, wiped my lip, and glared up at him with every last piece of pride I had left. "I didn't push her. And she's not getting a drop from me."

That was the last straw.

His hand was around my throat in a flash, squeezing the breath from my lungs. I clawed at him, wheezing, desperate. My fingers scraped uselessly at his knuckles. The fluorescent lights above blurred and swam. Somewhere past the roaring in my ears, the doctor's instruments rattled on a steel tray.

"Breathe… I—Dominic—please—" I gasped, legs kicking.

"Enough, Mr. Castellano!" the doctor shouted. "She'll die!"

He let go. I collapsed, gasping, my vision spinning.

"You're not off the hook," he muttered, then turned to the doctor. "Drain her. All of it. Leave just enough to keep her alive."

The doctor hesitated. "Sir, her vitals aren't stable. She's not strong enough after what happened yesterday. The blood bank—"

Dominic grabbed him by the throat and shoved him hard against the wall. "I said drain her. You work for me, not the fucking Red Cross."

The doctor didn't argue after that. His men held me down as they jabbed a needle in. I felt the blood leaving, slowly. Cold, dizzy, fading.

And then… darkness.

I woke to a bucket of ice water crashing down on me. Gasping, soaked, shaking. My head was heavy. My vision was blurry.

"Get up!" Dominic snapped.

I tried to stand but my knees buckled and I hit the floor hard. He grabbed me by the hair, yanking me up like a rag doll. I cried out.

"Dominic! Stop, please! I'm cold—" I begged.

"You think I give a shit?" he barked. "You think I don't know what you did?"

I stared at him, confused. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"You had someone snatch my daughter!" he shouted in my face. "Lucia is missing! And while you're here pretending to be dying, your dogs are out trying to get revenge."

I laughed. I couldn't help it. It was ugly and broken.

"You really just said that to me," I whispered. "You really said your daughter. The same kid you had while married to me."

He sneered. "Valentina is the mother of my children. You knew about her. You just didn't like being second place."

"And you think I'd hurt a child?" I snapped. "Did you remember what innocence meant when my baby died in that garbage bin?"

He didn't flinch.

"Spare me the drama. I've got proof."

His soldiers dragged in a skinny, bruised man who looked like he hadn't eaten in a week. The kind of man the Family kept on retainer for exactly this purpose — disposable, desperate, willing to recite whatever script kept him breathing another hour.

"She paid me," he sobbed, pointing at me. "She said take the kid… kill him if you have to. I didn't know he was yours, Boss. Please, don't kill me."

I stared. "I've never seen this man in my life."

"You never stop lying, do you?!" Dominic yelled. He grabbed my arm so hard I felt something pop. "You'll confess or you'll pay," he growled.

"I didn't do anything."

Next thing I knew, we were on the jet. His private one. The Castellano family plane — the kind people only boarded once when they crossed him. He didn't say a word for the first hour. Then, two thousand feet up, he stood, unlocked the door, and yanked it open. Wind howled inside.

"Last chance," he said, voice like death. "Say you did it."

My heart slammed against my ribs. "Dominic, I didn't! Please, close the damn door!"

He smirked. "You always said you were scared of heights." He stepped closer.

"Dominic. Dominic, please!"

He leaned in. "Then scream for me, sweetheart."

And with a shove… I was falling.

The roar of the sky swallowed my scream.

I woke up screaming.

My throat was raw, my hands flailing as if I was still falling, still reaching for something that never caught me.

Then everything snapped into focus.

The white ceiling. The sharp scent of antiseptic. The steady beep of a monitor beside me.

I was in a hospital. One of the Castellano-owned clinics, from the look of it — no questions asked, no records filed. The kind of place where men came in on stretchers and left in body bags, and nobody ever called the law.

"You're safe now, Mrs. Castellano," the doctor said softly beside me, but I barely registered him.

Because I wasn't alone.

Dominic stood near the door, arms crossed, cold as ever. Valentina was curled up in a chair beside my bed, fake tears glistening on her lashes. And of course, his mother — Ginevra Castellano, the Queen of Hell herself — stood with her nose in the air like the place reeked of me. Her fingers rested against the strand of pearls at her throat, already adjusting them, already preparing whatever cruelty she'd brought to deliver.

"How are you feeling?" Valentina asked gently, her voice trembling. One hand rested flat against her stomach, pressing there as though protecting something. She was always protecting something that wasn't real.

I ignored her and turned to the doctor. "What the hell happened?"

Before he could speak, Dominic stepped forward, jaw tight with rage. "What happened?" he scoffed. "Valentina saved your damn life, that's what. I shoved you, yeah, and she, this angel you hate, threatened to blow her head off if I didn't grab you before you hit the ground. So I did. And you still passed out. She hasn't slept in two days, watching over you. And this is how you repay her?"

I laughed. A bitter, cracked laugh that bubbled out of me until tears rolled down my cheeks. "You're really gonna stand there and act like you care?"

I turned to him slowly, my voice sharp enough to cut bone. "You tried to kill me, Dominic. You almost fucking killed me. And now you want applause because you almost let me die?"

"You ungrateful little bitch," his mother spat. "You should've been left on that ground. Would've saved us all some trouble."

"Yeah," I snapped, eyes locked on Dominic. "Maybe you should've let me die. You and Valentina wouldn't have to lie anymore about what you did to my baby."

Silence.

Heavy. Suffocating. The monitor beeped into nothing. Even the soldier posted outside the door seemed to go still, the way men in this world went still when the air in a room turned to something they didn't want to witness.

Dominic finally scoffed and turned away. "She's clearly high as shit on morphine. Let's go, Valentina."

But Valentina didn't move. Instead, she clutched my hand like we were childhood best friends.

"This is all my fault," she whispered through crocodile tears. "I'm sorry, Sofia. I never meant for things to go this far."

I jerked my hand away so fast she stumbled. "Get the hell away from me."

Dominic caught her like a knight saving his queen, then turned to me with that look — the one that made men in his own Family flinch. "You better be grateful, Sofia. If Valentina wasn't so soft, I would've broken every bone in your body for how you speak to her."

They left without another word. Ginevra followed, pearls gleaming under the fluorescent light, not sparing me a backward glance.

The doctor cleared his throat awkwardly.

"I want to go home," I said, my voice hollow.

He nodded and quietly prepared my release.

When I got back to the compound, the first thing I saw waiting for me was the thick envelope. The divorce papers. They'd finally come. I went inside and grabbed my resignation letter too — the document severing me from every legal tie to the Castellano name and its operations. All I needed now was Dominic's signature. And he'd never sign them if he knew what they were.

Just as I was strategizing, he walked in without knocking, tossing a black garment bag at me.

"Put that on," he ordered. "We've got a sit-down with the Russians in twenty. I'm taking Valentina, but you're my assistant. You need to look useful."

"Why not let your whore handle it?" I said, not bothering to hide the venom in my tone.

"She'll be on my arm. You'll be in the background where you belong."

I grabbed the documents and shoved them at him. "Sign these. They're my hospital release forms."

He frowned, flipping to the last page. "What the hell is this?"

Just then, Valentina's voice rang out from the hall like a siren. "Baby! Come see how hot I look!"

His expression softened in a blink. A stupid, lovesick grin took over. Without thinking, he signed both pages and tossed them back at me.

He didn't even read them.