Bianca's POV

It was our ninth wedding anniversary, but Don Dominic Valente came home with his pregnant mistress.

For nine years, he had held me like I was the moon itself. He'd bring me white roses from the garden, kiss my hand in front of the whole family, and swear I'd always be his only one. And now? He stood proudly beside another woman, parading her swollen belly like a trophy.

"She's sensitive to strong smells," he said casually, one arm draped possessively around the other woman's waist as she nestled smugly into his side. "No repeated meals. She needs someone with her when she sleeps. Move your things to the guest house."

My body stiffened in shock. "Are you freaking kidding me, Dominic? You seriously expect me to move into the guest house like some castoff because of your mistress?"

His eyes narrowed. "I wasn't asking, Bianca. Now do it."

"No." My teeth ground together as I pointed a trembling finger straight at Serafina. "You have impregnated an opportunistic nobody from a disgraced family, and now you brought her to our anniversary dinner? The audacity, Dominic. No way!"

"I said do it, Bianca!"

His voice dropped into that register, the one that made soldiers go pale and lower their eyes. The full weight of the Don's authority pressed against my lungs like thick smoke, and I felt my knees buckle slightly. Every survival instinct I had recoiled, whimpering at his dominance.

But I couldn't and wouldn't stoop low for someone who wrecked my marriage, so I said, "I'd rather leave. I'm so done. Goodbye, Dominic."

He thought I would serve his mistress? Never. And since I had packed my things weeks ago after I received a video of him and this woman in bed together, I was already ready to go.

Dominic scoffed and prowled toward me. He jabbed a finger at me, then made a sweeping motion like he was shooing away garbage. "You want to leave? Fine. Go ahead and throw your little tantrum. You'll come crawling back in three days, begging like the pathetic has-been you've become."

Laughter echoed behind me from the old guard, the capos and associates seated along the dining table. They were placing bets, laughing at the woman they had once stood for when she entered a room as the Donna.

Too bad for them, I wasn't about to stick around and play the humiliated wife one more time. The car my cousin Marco had sent from Ferrante territory up north was already parked beyond the estate gates.

Dominic said I would go back crawling on my ass? Well, I didn't even look back when I stepped through the front door after I retrieved my bags from our room.

But before I stepped out of the doors, he shouted, "Leave the signet ring and give it to Serafina!"

My breath hitched.

I curled my fingers tightly around the ring my late grandmother had given me. This ring had been the only thing keeping me steady through the chaos of his betrayal. And now he wanted me to give it away? To hand over the one thing making me physically immune to the pain of his cheating?

"No," I said, as rich beads of tears fell from my eyes. "Not this. Anything but this!"

Dominic snorted at my reaction, pulling Serafina closer to him. "Don't make this harder than it needs to be, Bianca. She needs it."

I could have fought harder. I could have screamed, refused, or lashed out. But my body was already trembling, every ounce of fight curled up tight inside me. And his authority was forcing me to submit. The Don's word was law in this house, and every man in that room would enforce it. Curse his authority.

So I turned slowly and walked over to Serafina.

I slid the ring from my finger and placed it on hers.

"May your child be born in peace," I murmured.

But when the old silver band settled around her finger, a thin red line bloomed across her pale skin where the metal touched. She gasped sharply, clutching her hand like I'd branded her. "W-What did you do to me, Donna? Did you hurt me on purpose with that ring?" she cried, collapsing to her knees.

"What? No!" I countered, wide eyes on her hand.

Dominic reacted instantly. His body stiffened, and then he lunged toward her, knocking the chair aside as he swept her into his arms. He held her like she was made of glass. Then he glared at me as if I'd morphed into a beast before his very eyes. "What on earth did you do to her? Are you so jealous that she is pregnant with my child? Did you curse Serafina?"

"I had no idea what happened, Dominic." My hands remained suspended midair, still trembling from placing the ring.

"Call the doctor! Now!" he roared, glancing around, then glared back at me. "You, clean this up. Every last piece. Understood!"

My gaze dropped to the ring, which had cracked apart on the marble floor as though the metal itself had rejected her. Shards pierced through the skin as I knelt, but I welcomed the pain.

"I'm sorry," I said. Once. Then again. And again.

My knees screamed as I shifted my weight forward. My palms, slick with blood from the broken shards, pressed against the cold marble floor to push me up. Gathering what was left of my dignity, I brushed the blood-stained strands of hair away from my face, and locked eyes with him. "Is that enough, Don Valente?"

His eyes didn't soften. Not even a flicker. "The old man who protected you is gone. Who are you pretending for now?"

I stared at the man I once called my husband. "Why don't you just end this, Dominic? If you hate the sight of me so much, file the dissolution. Let me go."

He let out a low laugh, amused and condescending. "Why would I do that, Bianca? You'll just come crawling back. And besides, dissolutions are messy, so why go through the effort?"

I gathered the broken ring pieces and tossed them in the trash. After rinsing the blood from my hands, I grabbed my bag and walked out without looking back.

Bianca's POV

I thought I was finally free. But apparently, the universe had a cruel sense of humor when it came to me. Because before I even reached the iron gate at the edge of the compound, two soldiers stepped out of the guardhouse. I barely had time to register them before they grabbed me, one by each arm, like I was some petty thief caught climbing the fence.

"We have to bring you back, Mrs. Valente. The Don's orders. He needs your blood."

"What? No! Let me go!" I struggled, not for me, but for the little life growing inside me. My heart thundered, pounding against my ribs like it already knew something terrible was about to happen. "Why would he want my blood?"

Why? Why him? Why this fate? I gave everything. My body, my loyalty, my future. Was that not enough? What kind of life was this, that I should be tied to a man who saw me as nothing more than a resource to use and discard?

And now he wanted more. Always more.

I wasn't sure which I feared more. That he'd find out about the baby, or that he wouldn't care even if he did.

The next thing I knew, I was strapped to a steel chair in the estate's private medical suite, cold restraints biting into my wrists. I tried to lift my head and saw Dominic standing with his arms crossed like I was beneath him.

"You really dragged me back for this? To drain me like some sacrificial animal?"

Dominic didn't flinch. "Stop being dramatic. You're helping. Be useful for once."

I let out a bitter laugh. "Useful? Is that all I ever was to you? A convenient blood bank with a Donna title?"

"You're being emotional, as usual," he said. "You always did have a flair for victimhood."

"Says the man bleeding his wife dry while his precious mistress rests in silk sheets."

He stepped closer and wrapped his large hand around my jaw. "Watch your mouth or else."

"Or what? You'll toss me off the estate grounds like you did my dignity?"

He sneered. "You're alive, aren't you? Should be thanking me."

"You have her," I snapped. "You have your heir. Why am I still the one in this chair?"

The irony of it. His precious Serafina slept soundly on silk pillows while I bled out for her and the child she carried, while my own unborn baby clung quietly to life inside me.

But I wouldn't give him that truth. He didn't deserve it. He'd weaponize it, manipulate it, twist it into something ugly just like he'd twisted everything else about me.

So I kept it buried deep, like the rest of me.

I stared at the ceiling, the sterile lights blurring with unshed tears as I added, "This is what I get for loving you? For defending your name at every sit-down? For patching your wounds like a wife, not a maid? I should've run the moment you put that ring on my finger!"

"Then why didn't you?" he hissed. "You were too desperate. Too easy."

"And you were too much of a coward to let me go," I growled.

He smirked. "Why bother? You always come back."

That was when the needle drove in.

It was too thick. More like a dagger than any medical tool. I felt the sharp prick at first, then the slow burn as it pierced deeper, invading my skin and my vein. But I didn't flinch. I wouldn't give him the pleasure. Still, a cold sweat broke across my neck and my fingers trembled against the restraints.

Every ounce they drained from me felt like a piece of my past being ripped away. Our first sit-down with the Commission, the time I took a blade for him without hesitation, the sleepless nights I sat by the door waiting for him to return. I bled not just my veins, but the last fragments of the bond I once held sacred. And through it all, he just stood there. Watching as if I was nothing more than a container to siphon from.

"Don Valente, Bianca's heart has always been delicate. Drawing too much blood could—"

"Keep going," Dominic snapped. "She's stubborn, she'll survive."

My vision dimmed.

I bit down on the inside of my cheek just to stay conscious.

Eight hundred milliliters. That's how much they drained from me. And the worst part was I believed it was over. But someone coughed behind the curtain, and that one sound snapped Dominic back to attention.

"Double it. Serafina needs more blood."

I froze. So I was being a forced sacrifice for the shameless woman who'd ruined my life?

"You're draining me for your mistress?" I spat. "You're bleeding your own wife to save the woman who broke our marriage? God, Dominic!"

"She needs it," he said coldly, like it explained everything.

I laughed bitterly even as tears burned my eyes. "And what about me? What about your Donna? Your wife? You'd bleed me dry before lifting a finger to help me!"

His expression didn't change, and that told me everything I needed to know.

Serafina coughed again from behind the curtain, this time louder, more dramatic. "Dominic!" she whimpered.

And like she'd cast some kind of spell, he moved. I was a near-unconscious mess strapped to a chair, and he was already halfway to the other room. The two soldiers flanking the door didn't even look at me. Their eyes tracked the Don. That was the hierarchy. That was the code. The wife could bleed out three feet away, and every man in the room would still follow the boss through the door.

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. What a husband, right? I was dying in the chair, and he was worried about a tickle in her throat.

Enzo trembled. "Don Valente, if we draw more blood, the baby in her—"

"Do it," Dominic barked, turning his glare on the doctor. "Otherwise, I'll personally throw you in the basement. And you know what happens to men who go down those stairs."

Enzo stiffened, visibly torn. His hand moved to his glasses, and he cleaned them with a slow, deliberate circular motion, the cloth going around and around while the silence pressed against the walls. Then he stopped. Put them back on. And nodded. "Yes, Don Valente."

I wanted to scream. To beg him not to. But my consciousness was fading away.

When I opened my eyes again, everything was blurry, and I realized I was no longer in the chair. I was lying down on a cot, covered in a thin blanket.

Enzo sat beside me. His eyes were red as he said, "You're stable now, Mrs. Valente. Your vitals are normal. Your body is healing faster than I expected. It must be your natural resilience."

I blinked slowly. "That sounds like good news," I rasped. "So why do you look like someone just died?"

Enzo's lips parted slightly, like the words wouldn't come out. He hesitated, then bowed his head. "Because someone did," he said.

I didn't understand at first. I stared at him, trying to put the pieces together. Then I gasped as my hand flew to my stomach.

"No... no, no, no..."

"I'm so sorry," he whispered. "When Don Valente ordered us to double the blood draw, the baby didn't make it."

My scream tore through the room before I could stop it. I thrashed on the cot, kicking the sheets off, knocking over the tray beside me. Something inside me howled, a grief so primal it didn't have words, her pain spilling into mine. I shoved myself up, ignoring the dizziness, and staggered toward the door.

"DOMINIC!" I screamed. "You killed my baby! YOU MONSTER!"

He wasn't there. Of course, he wasn't. He was probably holding Serafina's hand while I lost everything.

"I'll kill him! I swear it! I'll rip him apart!"

Enzo tried to steady me, holding my arms. "Please, Bianca, you need to rest."

I shoved him off with what little strength I had left. "Don't tell me to rest! He murdered my child!"

I collapsed to the floor, sobbing so hard I couldn't breathe.

Enzo crouched beside me. "I'm sorry. If there was anything I could've done, I would have."

I didn't answer. The sobs quieted into hiccups, then into silence. Somewhere beyond the medical suite's sealed door, the estate carried on. Guards changed shifts. Soldiers reported to their capos. The family's business moved like clockwork, indifferent to the blood on the floor of this room.

But my mind? It was no longer broken. It was sharpening.

No more pleading. No more waiting for scraps of love or mercy. I would burn everything they cared about. Both of them.

I looked up at Enzo. "Prepare my discharge papers. And all the medical records. I want copies of everything."

Bianca's POV

I was stuck in a hospital bed, still weak and lightheaded. My arms ached from the blood loss, and it was hard to even sit up without getting dizzy. But none of that hurt as much as what I was keeping inside. I was grieving the loss of my baby.

In my confinement, I received news of him and Serafina from everywhere else. A mutual associate sent a video. Dominic was laughing at some charity gala held at the family's waterfront casino, his hand firmly on her waist. Another video came in: Dominic feeding Serafina a slice of cake at a private dinner, leaning in close to whisper something that made her giggle.

He looked happy and free.

When I was finally discharged, I walked out by myself. No one was there to pick me up. Not Dominic, not a bodyguard, not even one of the lowest-ranking soldiers in the Valente Family. Just me, carrying a hospital bag and the awful truth that I didn't matter to them anymore.

I really didn't want to return to the estate. Just thinking about it made my skin crawl. But all my things had been sent back there, so I didn't have a choice.

Then, just my luck, I saw them right outside the maternity wing. Serafina looked proud and happy, like she was already celebrating. Dominic stood next to her, his hand on her back like he was showing her off.

A nurse passed by. Her head turned to them, and she chirped, "Mr. Valente, your wife is glowing today!"

My stomach twisted, but I didn't correct her. I didn't have the strength anyway.

Instead, I turned. I started to walk away.

"Bianca." Dominic's voice cut through the hallway, and I froze for a second. My spine stiffened, but I didn't turn around right away. Of course he saw me. Of course he had to call me now, when I was trying to vanish quietly into the background.

I finally turned, meeting his eyes from across the polished floor of the maternity wing. "I didn't follow you. Just so you know, I was just discharged. I didn't know you'd be here."

He narrowed his eyes, but before he could say anything, Serafina clung to his arm.

"Babe, please let her come with us," she said sweetly, her tone so fake it made my skin crawl. "I feel bad for her. She gave me blood, remember? It's the least we can do."

I almost laughed.

Dominic touched her nose affectionately. "You're too kind. Alright."

So I got in the car. Not because I wanted to, but because I had nowhere else to go just yet. My important documents were still at the estate.

In the backseat, I sat in silence. A pair of underwear stained with white liquid lay on the seat beside me, and it stung my heart.

Serafina twisted in her seat, tossing me a smirk over her shoulder. "Oh my god, I just realized, my panties are still here. Can you believe that, babe? After everything we did in the backseat last week?"

She giggled shamelessly, like we were old friends reminiscing, not the two women tied to the same man.

Dominic chuckled, completely unbothered. "You nearly tore the seat stitching."

"Mmm," Serafina purred. "You weren't complaining when I was grinding on your lap while you were parked outside the estate gates. Or that time I unzipped you during that long drive out to the docks and kept you nice and distracted."

Dominic smirked, eyes on the road like none of this was out of place. "That's because you make traffic worth it."

"And remember the time you had to pull over because I wouldn't stop using my mouth? God, you nearly lost it."

My stomach churned. I stared out the window, jaw locked so tight it ached. My fingers clenched in my lap, nails digging half-moons into my palms.

While they flirted like I wasn't even there, I quietly fished my phone from my bag and opened the latest encrypted message from Marco, my cousin. My heart gave a tiny, traitorous flutter as I read about my confirmed flight. The one I'd been waiting on for days.

Below the itinerary, he'd written a short message:

[Here's another flight schedule, Bianca. Hope you catch this one. The flight is scheduled for tonight at 9 PM.]

I smiled to myself. Just a little.

I typed a quick reply:

[Thank you so much, Marco. I'm sorry for missing the last one.]

Almost instantly, the reply appeared:

[What really happened that day? You can tell me.]

My fingers hovered above the screen. I didn't want to lie to him. Marco had always looked out for me. But if I told him the truth, he'd start a war between the families, and I didn't want blood spilled because of me.

So instead, I typed:

[I'll explain soon. I just need to get out first.]

Because to leave this place was what I wanted the most.

Dominic laughed softly, whispering an apology to Serafina for forgetting something, even taking the blame. Regardless, all the while, he watched me out of the corner of his eye, clearly hoping for a reaction.

But I gave him nothing. Not even a flicker of emotion.

That same strange frustration I saw in him back at the hospital stirred again. He couldn't stand it when I went quiet.

"Bianca, you've been glued to your phone ever since we got in the car," he snapped. "Who are you talking to? Someone I don't know?"

"Just reading the news." I didn't even glance at him and just gazed down at my electronic plane ticket.

It seemed that he didn't believe me as his face tightened, and I was shocked when, without a word, he suddenly snatched the phone from my hands. My heart jumped in my chest, not from fear, but from the sharp sting of anger.

I clenched my jaw, trying not to let the heat show on my face, but my fists curled on instinct. So much for respect.

"What's the passcode?"

"It's the date we met, Dominic. You know, that magical day where I made the worst decision of my life and fell for you? It should be easy to remember, as you were charming for five whole minutes before turning into a full-time nightmare." I didn't bother hiding the venom in my voice. Let it burn.

Dominic sighed in irritation, already regretting the guessing game he'd started. He tapped at the screen once. Twice. A third time.

The phone buzzed and flashed red. Locked.

Beside him, Serafina rolled her eyes and leaned in with a mockingly sweet voice. "Just let it go, babe. So what if she's on her phone? It's not like she has any friends left. Or dignity. I mean, what else can she do now besides text someone who pities her enough to reply?"

She winked at me with a smirk.