That finally made him stop.

He turned slowly, disbelief written all over his face as he stared at me. "What did you just say?"

"I'm pregnant," I said again, my voice trembling but steady enough to carry. "The doctor told me it's practically a miracle I conceived at all. It's a high-risk pregnancy… and it's twins, Dante. If you take my blood, you could kill them. Our children."

For a brief second, everything went quiet.

Then he laughed.

It was a harsh, ugly sound that cut straight through me. "You really expect me to buy that?" His lips curled in contempt. "You're disgusting enough to fake a pregnancy just to avoid helping your own sister?"

"I'm telling the truth," I whispered.

"No, you're not," he snapped. "You've always been a liar, Seraphina. You'll give the blood. End of story."

Something inside me finally shattered. "I'm not killing my babies for her!"

His face darkened, fury rolling off him like a storm. "Then I'll burn that vineyard your parents spent their lives building. Row by row. I'll make you stand there and watch while I rip out every vine, crush the soil until nothing ever grows again. No wine. No barrels. No trace that they ever existed."

My blood went cold.

That vineyard wasn't just land. It was the Castellano legacy. Decades of work since my father first broke ground, every vine planted by his hands and my mother's. I grew up running between those rows, breathing in the sweetness of harvest season. It was the last proof my family had ever existed, and the one thing even the Valenti name couldn't seize through a marriage contract. He knew exactly how to use it against me.

"Y-you wouldn't," I stammered.

Dante stepped closer, invading my space until I could feel his breath against my skin. His father's old signet ring caught the fluorescent light as his hand hung at his side, perfectly still. His eyes were sharp, merciless. "Test me."

I stared at him, my chest heaving. This was the man I once loved. The man who once swore he'd protect me. Now he was the one I needed protection from.

My hand drifted to my stomach without thinking. The twins. My babies. Tears slid down my face, silent and helpless.

When he grabbed my arm and yanked me forward, I didn't resist. Fighting him had never ended well. I followed quietly, swallowing the sobs clawing at my throat.

He took me straight into the private room at the Family's clinic, the one he'd arranged for Valentina. She lay in the bed, pale and frail, IV lines running into her arm, eyes rimmed red. She let out weak little whimpers, like she was barely holding on. A soldier stood outside the door. He didn't look at me as we passed.

Dante rushed to her side. "I'm here, Daph," he murmured, brushing her hair back gently, so tender, so different from how he treated me. "You're going to be okay. I brought her."

Her lips quivered. "Everything hurts, Dante… I feel so bad."

I stood frozen, watching my husband cradle my sister like she was made of glass. Then Valentina cracked one eye open and looked at me.

She smiled.

No. She smirked. Just for a split second before closing her eyes again.

Bitch.

Anger churned violently in my gut.

I stepped forward to speak, but Dante turned so fast I barely had time to react. His hand clamped around my wrist, grip iron-hard. One look from him told me exactly what would happen if I opened my mouth. In this world, in his world, a wife did not contradict her husband in front of witnesses. The consequences were never spoken aloud. They didn't need to be.

The door swung open, and the doctor entered, eyes flicking between us.

"She's deteriorating," Dante said flatly, not even glancing at me. "Start the transfusion immediately."

"She's stable enough to—" the doctor began, but Valentina whimpered again.

"We're not waiting," Dante cut in. "The donor's right here."

The doctor's gaze settled on me. He nodded once and instructed the nurses to prepare.

My body went rigid when I saw the needle. Cold sweat broke across my skin. I'd always been terrified of needles, and Dante knew it. Years ago, he used to hold my hand, murmur reassurances, distract me until it was over.

Now, he didn't even look at me.

At Valentina's next whimper, he abandoned me entirely and rushed back to her side.

I turned my head away as the doctor approached. In my mind, I begged anyone, God, fate, even the devil, to make this stop.

The needle hovered inches from my arm when the door slammed open.

"Stop!"

Another doctor rushed in, clutching a folder, breathless. "You can't proceed."

The room fell silent.

"Mrs. Falcone is pregnant!" he announced loudly.

The needle was lowered at once.

Dante blinked, his face twitching. "That's impossible. She can't—"

The doctor stepped forward and shoved the file into his hands. "She was here this morning for a consultation and cancelled it. She's carrying twins. High-risk."

Relief crashed over me so hard my knees nearly buckled. Finally. Proof. Someone believed me.

But before I could fully breathe, Dante lifted his head.

His voice was cold as ice. "I don't give a fuck. Take her blood."

I stared at him, stunned. "What?"

"You heard me," he said, jaw tight. His hand was flat against the folder, pressing it down against the edge of the bed like a verdict already sealed. The signet ring had stopped moving.

The room went dead quiet except for the steady beeping of machines.

One of the nurses hesitated, then spoke carefully. "Mr. Falcone, your wife cannot donate blood. She's pregnant, with twins, and it's a high-risk pregnancy. Proceeding could cost both babies."

Dante didn't even blink. He stepped forward, voice sharp and commanding. "I heard you. Do it anyway."

The doctor looked between us, shaken. "Sir, this could endanger her life as well. We can't—"

"You can," Dante snapped. "I'm paying you enough to do exactly what I say."

My chest tightened painfully. This was my husband. The man I once trusted with my life.

Dante's gaze swept the room. Every nurse, every doctor, the soldier who had stepped inside the doorway at the sound of raised voices. The silence that followed was the kind I had learned to recognize since marrying into this Family. It was the silence of people calculating whether their conscience was worth more than their breathing.

"I am Dante Falcone. Every one of you is here because my Family allows it. Defy me, and you'll regret it."

The nurses went rigid. The doctor dropped his gaze to the floor. No one in that room wanted to be the one who challenged him.

One of the nurses finally turned toward me, her voice hesitant, almost remorseful. "Mrs. Valenti… we need your permission to proceed."

I looked straight at Dante, tears slipping down my face one after another. "You've always said you wanted a child. And now that I'm carrying your twins, you're willing to sacrifice them for Valentina and her fake illness?"

He let out a harsh laugh. "You were planning to get rid of them anyway."

I shook my head slowly. "You just heard that I canceled the procedure."

Dante sighed like I was being unreasonable. "Seraphina, your pregnancy is unstable. The odds aren't good. Valentina's situation is safer. Her baby actually has a chance."

My stomach sank. "So you're choosing to kill mine for hers."

He stepped closer, his tone softening as if that could justify it. "It's not like that. Valentina's condition is worsening. Yours…" He shrugged. "You might not even make it another month."

I couldn't find my voice. I could only stare at him and finally understand the truth. This wasn't about saving a life. It was about choosing a woman. And he had never chosen me. The signet ring on his pinky was still. His hand lay flat against his thigh. The decision had been made long before we entered this room.

"You've already decided," I whispered.

From the bed, Valentina let out a small, rehearsed cough. Dante's attention snapped to her immediately, as if I'd vanished from the room.

The nurse's hand brushed my arm, gentle, sympathetic. "Mrs. Valenti… please."

Dante never once looked back.

I swallowed, my throat burning. "Go ahead."

The needle pierced my skin. I watched my blood flow into the tubing, my gaze fixed on the floor as I fought back sobs. My chest tightened, dizziness crashing over me in waves. The private clinic was quiet except for the hum of monitors and the low, steady drip. Somewhere beyond the reinforced door, one of Dante's soldiers shifted his weight, leather creaking.

The nurse glanced at the monitor and gasped. "Her vitals are dropping!"

"Stop the transfusion," the doctor ordered sharply.

Dante shoved him aside. "Don't you dare stop. Valentina needs it."

"She's stable," the nurse argued.

"You're blind if you think she's fine," Dante barked.

Pain ripped through me. My vision swam, metallic taste filling my mouth. My body shook uncontrollably.

Somewhere through the haze, Lazaro crossed my mind. His voice, the way he'd said finally, as though he'd always known this moment would come. I'd asked him to wait. I'd never said yes.

The staff argued with Dante, their voices overlapping. He never once looked at me. His eyes were only on Valentina.

With the last of my strength, I whispered, barely audible, "Please… save my babies."

Then everything faded to black.

When I woke up, I almost wished I hadn't.

My entire body screamed in pain, like I'd been thrown down stairs and crushed for good measure. There was an awful emptiness inside me, a hollow ache that felt like something essential had been ripped away. My fingers drifted to my stomach and found it flat, foreign, wrong.

"Oh, Mrs. Valenti. You're awake," a female doctor said softly from beside my bed. "We were afraid we might lose you."

My throat felt raw. My limbs were heavy, sore, bruised in places I didn't even know could bruise. The harsh clinic lights burned my eyes as I blinked, confused for a brief second, hoping, desperately, that it had all been a nightmare.

Then it came rushing back.

Dante. Valentina. The transfusion. The agony. The fear.

My heart slammed against my ribs as I turned toward the doctor. Her expression was too careful. Too gentle. I already knew.

"My babies…" My voice broke. "Please… tell me they're alive."

She hesitated.

That pause shattered me more than any words could have.

Her eyes softened as she shook her head. "We did everything we could. I'm so sorry. The twins didn't survive."

The world stopped.

Then I broke apart.

I cried until my lungs burned, until my body shook violently, until pain ripped through my stitches and my vision blurred with tears. I mourned the two tiny lives I never got to hold, the soft kicks I'd never feel, the future Dante had destroyed without hesitation. My fingers reached for the hollow of my throat where my mother's pendant once hung, and found only bare skin. Everything taken. Everything gone.

If I had known it would end like this, maybe I wouldn't have let myself love them. Maybe I would have ended it earlier, before hope took root.

When my sobs finally slowed, I wiped my face with trembling hands. My thoughts drifted back to Lazaro. To his offer. To his certainty.

"W-what day is it?" I asked weakly.

"It's Thursday," the doctor replied gently. "You've been unconscious for two days."

Two days.

Time was slipping away.

"Please… I need my phone."

"It's in the drawer beside you."

I grabbed it, my fingers shaking as I typed out the message.

I accept your offer. Meet me at the airport.

The reply came almost instantly.

Finally. I was starting to think you'd changed your mind, little grapes.

I typed back without hesitation.

Never.

The doctor asked if I needed anything else. I forced a smile, bitter and metallic on my lips. "Has anyone come to see me?"

"I'm sorry… no one has," she replied softly.

A chill settled into my chest then. Not the kind that makes your skin crawl, but the kind that sinks deep into your bones, leaving a hollow, frozen ache.

When she left, I stared at the blank wall for what felt like hours. Eventually, I shoved the blanket off me. Every movement sent jagged waves of pain through my body, but I ignored it.

"Mrs. Falcone?" a nurse called as she entered. "You shouldn't be up and moving. You lost a lot of blood. Your stitches—"

"I'm leaving," I said, voice flat, cutting her off. "I don't care that I'm still bleeding. I'm not staying another second."

She tried to reason with me, worry etched across her face. "You're not stable enough—"

"I said I'm leaving. Just bring me whatever I need to sign," I snapped.

She stared at me for a long moment, hesitating, then retreated. The private clinic was quiet. No guards posted outside my door. No flowers. No one from the Valenti Family had thought to send even a soldier to check whether the Boss's wife was still breathing. A few minutes later, she returned with the discharge papers.

Every step toward the door was agony. My legs trembled, my back screamed, but I forced myself forward.

Halfway down the hall, I saw them. Dante and Valentina, my twin sister, sitting side by side in another room. Laughing. Smiling. As if nothing had happened. As if my babies had never existed.

I turned away before they could notice me.

They had taken everything from me once. I wasn't letting them do it again.

This time, I had Lazaro. The man who concealed an empire behind a polite smile. The man whose name was spoken only in hushed tones, whose syndicate moved through the city's tunnels and docks like a second bloodstream. The man who could reduce the entire Valenti dynasty to ashes without lifting a finger.

I was done being their victim.

Dante was feeding Valentina soup, that fake gentle smile plastered on his face, the same smile he never bothered to give me. Valentina sat there, fragile-looking but smug, soaking in every bit of attention like she was the donna of the Family already.

Once, seeing them like this would have shattered me. Now, I felt nothing. I turned to slip past them, but, as usual, luck had other plans.

"Seraphina?" His voice cut through me. I stiffened, jaw tightening.

I turned slowly, face calm, hiding the storm inside. When our eyes met, I glimpsed a flicker in him. Guilt, maybe, like he suddenly remembered I even existed. His father's signet ring sat still on his pinky. Not spinning. He hadn't been worried enough to spin it.

"I didn't realize you were awake," he stammered, pushing himself upright from the chair beside Valentina. "How are you feeling?"

I didn't answer. My silence said everything I needed it to.

Dante's shoulders slumped. "Your sacrifice… it wasn't in vain," he murmured, eyes locking on mine as if trying to force me to believe him. "Valentina's fine. Her baby is healthy. You saved them both."

I laughed. Sharp, bitter, humorless. He flinched.

Valentina placed her hand gently on her flat stomach, her sweetness feigned. "Dante hasn't left me alone for a second. He's been so good to me."

I refused to stay and watch their sick charade. I turned to leave, but Dante sprang to his feet, reaching for me.

"Wait, Seraphina. Just wait."

I froze. Not because I wanted to, but because I knew how ridiculous it sounded to even consider listening.

"I'm throwing a gathering tonight," he blurted. "To celebrate your recovery and Valentina coming home safe. It's been… difficult. My father will be there. He really wants to see you."

I said nothing. Salvatore Falcone wanting to see me meant nothing good. The old Don's invitations were summons, and his interest in his daughter-in-law had never once been warm.

He stepped closer, softer now, as if sincerity could make a difference. "Let me drive you home. We're all going the same way."

"I'm not going home," I said flatly. "I'm going to my parents' vineyard."

Lazaro had promised to watch over it once I accepted his offer. It was the only piece of my parents left. Something Dante could never touch. Castellano land, Castellano soil, protected now by the one man the Valenti Family feared.

"The vineyard? Why?" Dante blinked, confused.

I tilted my head, keeping my expression icy. "I have business there. None of your concern."

Valentina's eyes brightened suddenly, her fake charm on full display. "Perfect timing. I was planning to visit too. After all, it is our parents' vineyard."

That caught me off guard. She had always acted like it didn't matter. The estate where we'd grown up, where our father had built his name before anyone in this city knew what the Castellano Family could become. She'd never once gone back after the funeral.

Dante nodded quickly. "Then we'll come with you."

I stared at him, surprised at how eagerly he agreed. The same man who once called the vineyard a waste, a burden, now jumped at the chance to go because Valentina mentioned it.

I allowed a quiet sneer. "Fine. You can come. But there's one thing I need from you first."

Dante straightened, hopeful. "Anything."

I reached into my bag and pulled out the papers I'd held since he brought Valentina home. Divorce papers. In this world, marriages between Families weren't dissolved by courts. They were dissolved by blood, by the Commission's decree, or by the signature of both parties on a severance pact witnessed under the old codes. I had the pact. I had been carrying it against my body like a concealed weapon.

He took them, brow furrowed. "What's this?"

"My discharge form," I said flatly, not meeting his gaze.

He hesitated. Always so careful when signing. In this life, a signature on the wrong document could sign away territory, soldiers, entire bloodlines. But he glanced at Valentina. She fluttered her lashes, smiled sweetly, and suddenly he forgot all caution.

"I'm tired, Dante," she purred. "Let's go home quickly."

He nodded, barely glancing at the papers before signing.

The moment his pen lifted, a small, victorious smirk spread across my lips. My fingers drifted to the hollow of my throat where my mother's pendant once hung. The skin was bare. The pendant was gone, buried with the body that bought my escape. But the absence steadied me, the way it always did.

"Thank you," I said, slipping the documents back into my bag. "Now I'm free from you."