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."

He didn't even register the meaning behind my words. His attention was glued to Valentina, completely blind to what I had planned.

When we reached the car, Valentina immediately reached for the front passenger seat as if it were hers by right. But Dante gently grabbed her arm and held her back.

"Hold on, Valentina," he said softly, then turned to me with a tentative, hopeful smile. "Seraphina, maybe you should take the front seat."

"No way," Valentina pouted, stamping her foot lightly. "I get so dizzy sitting in the back. And lately, the baby's been making me feel awful, Dante."

I rolled my eyes, unimpressed.

Dante looked stuck between us, clearly trying to figure out how to keep us both satisfied. The armored SUV idled at the curb, engine low, the soldier behind the wheel staring straight ahead like a man who'd learned long ago not to witness anything.

"It's fine," I said coldly. "Let her sit up front." He opened his mouth to protest, but I cut him off. "I said it's fine. Let her have the seat. I don't care."

A tense silence fell. Valentina beamed triumphantly, and Dante frowned, but he didn't argue.

I slid into the backseat, every muscle aching, and leaned my head against the cold window, staring outside as if I weren't even there. The city slid past in gray blocks, storefronts with their gates half-drawn, a sedan trailing two cars back that could have been one of Dante's men or one of someone else's. In this world, you stopped wondering which.

After a few minutes, Valentina started her usual act, fishing for a reaction.

Her hand found Dante's thigh, fingers slowly tracing circles. I didn't turn to look, but out of the corner of my eye, I caught her smirk, smug and deliberate.

Dante stiffened immediately. "Valentina," he muttered under his breath, moving her hand away.

"What?" she said, feigning innocence.

When he said nothing more, she tried again, this time letting her fingers wander higher.

"I said stop!" Dante snapped, his voice sharp now.

She flinched, and tears welled up in her eyes. She turned her face away and began quietly sobbing into her hands.

"Why are you yelling at me?" she whimpered. "I'm carrying your child, Dante. And you're yelling at me?"

Dante ran a hand through his hair, his expression softening. "Sorry, alright? I didn't mean to yell. Just… not with her here."

He never said my name, never acknowledged I existed in the backseat.

Valentina sniffled and leaned forward to rummage through the glove box. "Just looking for tissues," she murmured.

What she pulled out was far from tissues: a small piece of bright red lace panties. She giggled, holding them up like a trophy.

"Oh, Dante," she said playfully. "Remember when we couldn't make it to the hotel? You just pulled me into your lap right here."

"That's enough," Dante said sharply, refusing to look at her.

"Oh, relax," she rolled her eyes. "Seraphina gets it. Hormones make you crazy. Lucky you're here to help."

Her hand slid back onto his thigh. This time, he didn't move it.

Dante glanced in the rearview mirror, and our eyes met for a brief instant. I looked away before he could catch the storm brewing behind mine.

Once, that same glance could melt me. I remembered the first time we met: a feast at our family estate, him a last-minute stand-in for a Capo who'd failed to show. Dark suit, broad shoulders, that half-smile that made my heart stumble. My father had watched him from the head of the table, measuring the young Valenti soldier with the quiet precision he measured everyone.

"Do you always stare at people like that?" he'd asked. I'd been too stunned to answer. That night, he walked me to my car and kissed me under the moonlight. Back then, he saw me.

For the first two years, he treated me like I was the only woman alive. Friday night dinners at the vineyard, glass always full, always asking if I'd eaten, sneaking away among the vines to laugh like teenagers. The union between our families was sealed by the Commission, but what lived between us had nothing to do with alliances.

Then Valentina returned.

She claimed to be studying architecture abroad, a term she loved to toss around to sound impressive. The truth? She'd never finished a degree. Hated studying. Changed courses like trying on clothes she'd never buy. Paris, Rome, Tokyo. She'd been everywhere except where she was supposed to be.

Her return brought chaos, subtle at first: little laughs at my expense, innocent touches on Dante's arm at Sunday dinners. And now, here we were, her hand on his thigh.

The man who swore no one would ever come between us was now sitting next to the only woman who ever had.

**

By the time I reached the vineyard, I didn't speak a word. I exited the car and walked past Dante and Valentina without looking back.

The wrought-iron gates loomed as they always had, familiar yet heavy with memory. My parents had bought this land in the early 1980s, transforming bare soil into sprawling rows of vines that fed generations. Long before the Castellano name carried weight at sit-downs, it carried weight on this soil. They were gone, leaving the vineyard as the only tangible piece of their lives I had left.

My chest tightened with memory, but I pushed it down. I had business to take care of.

Tomaso Ferrante, the estate manager, looked up from his ledger as I entered the main house. His eyes widened, then softened into a warm smile.

"Miss Seraphina," he said, rising quickly. "Welcome back."

"I need to speak with you," I said bluntly, cutting to the point.

We were wrapping things up when a sudden, terrified scream split the air.

My heart leapt into my throat. Something was wrong.

I bolted toward the door, Tomaso right behind me.

The moment I stepped outside, the acrid sting of smoke hit me like a fist.

Shouts rose from the west fields.

I ran forward and froze. Flames were consuming the vines, my parents' legacy, the lifeblood of their decades of work. My vision blurred, and my chest tightened as I watched fire devour everything my family had built.