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.

Bianca's POV

When we arrived at the compound, he helped the nauseous, morning-sick mistress up to the master suite and told the cook to make her favorites.

On his way back downstairs, he saw me heading toward the guest wing, dragging my suitcase behind me.

He paused, then muttered to the cook, "Make two more dishes. The ones Bianca likes. Set three places."

That actually caught my attention. Was that remorse? A flicker of guilt? A weak, pitiful attempt to play house while his mistress slept in the room we once shared?

I didn't know whether to laugh or spit. He couldn't remember the day we met, but sure, go ahead and have the cook whip up my favorite meal. Maybe he thought a plate of grilled rosemary lamb could undo what he did to me.

I clenched my jaw, said nothing, and kept walking.

I stepped into the guest room, closing the door quietly behind me. The silence was heavy, as if the walls themselves knew I didn't belong here anymore. Somewhere deep in the house a grandfather clock ticked, measuring out the last hours I intended to spend under a Valente roof.

I set my bag down on the edge of the bed and knelt to unzip it. The second the zipper peeled open, I stopped cold.

All of my clothes had been shredded. Torn into ribbons with clean, deliberate cuts. Damn it. But tucked deep into the lining, right where I'd hidden them, my passport and documents remained untouched.

For a second, I just sat, stunned. Who would do this?

I didn't have to think long. Of course it was Serafina. Who else would be petty and cruel enough to tear my things apart like this? But I had no time to confront her. Not now.

Let her think she'd won. I had more important things to do, like getting out of here alive.

I was crouched by the bed, shoving the last few salvageable items into my bag when I heard the door creak open behind me.

Serafina stood in the doorway, one hand hanging lazily at her side, holding a small black bottle. Her eyes roamed the room like she was touring a crime scene, nose practically wrinkling at the decor. Then her gaze landed on me, and if looks could kill, I'd be ashes already.

"Wow, Bianca. You're really something. After all the humiliation I've put you through in front of every Don and Donna in the territory, you still cling to this family like a tick."

She tilted her head mockingly.

"Oh, right. Your grandmother passed last month, didn't she? Now that your only real family is gone, of course you're clinging to Dominic like he's your last lifeline."

Then she giggled. The sound bounced off the bare walls of the guest room, thin and deliberate, the kind of laugh that was meant to land like a slap.

"Remember how you begged him to fly you out to see her one last time? You know why he didn't?"

She waved her phone.

"Because he promised to take me to the coast that day. We watched the sunset together. This kiss photo? Taken right then."

Her words hit me slowly, like cracks spreading through glass. The more they sank in, the more something inside me started to boil.

She'd known. She knew what she was doing when she showed me that photo. When she talked about the helicopter. My grandmother. That day I'd begged Dominic, on my knees, to let me see her one last time.

And he chose Serafina.

The weight of it all pressed down on me. My jaw clenched, fists tightening at my sides as the room spun with heat and rage. Something dark stirred inside me, growling low, just as my self-control snapped.

"You think this is funny?" I hissed. "You think tearing down what little I have left makes you what? His Donna?"

Serafina raised her brows, smiling like a snake. She touched the hollow of her throat, fingers resting there with a softness that made the next words land like venom. "I don't need to be Donna. I already have everything."

"You have nothing," I snapped. "You're a parasite. A leech clinging to scraps."

Bianca's POV

She shrugged, smug. "Still more than you."

That was it.

I slapped the phone from her hand. It clattered to the ground.

Then I lunged, my hand flying to her throat before I could stop myself.

The bottle slipped from Serafina's hand and hit the floor with a hollow clink. The sharp, unmistakable stench of gasoline exploded into the air, hitting my nose like a slap. It burned the back of my throat, filling the room in seconds.

We struggled, pushing, grabbing, stumbling over each other. Then she kicked something. Maybe it was a lighter, or maybe her heel struck the metal leg of the bed frame.

Flames erupted like they'd been waiting for a reason to consume us.

Smoke swallowed the room. My body, still healing from what Enzo had done to me at Dominic's order, couldn't keep up. I choked, coughing violently, my legs collapsing beneath me.

The last thing I saw before darkness claimed me was fire crawling across the ceiling.

"Bianca!"

"Don Valente! It's too dangerous! You can't go in! Let the soldiers handle it—"

"Out of the way! Bianca's still in there!"

The sound of Dominic's voice tore through the smoke. I tried to open my eyes. Had I imagined it? Did he really say my name? Did he still care?

"Dominic, I'm here too. Please save me and our baby!"

For a moment, I almost believed he was coming for me.

It was pathetic, really. That tiny flicker of hope that burned inside me just from hearing my name fall from his lips. Like I was still someone he'd fight for.

But of course, reality slapped the fantasy right out of me. He hadn't come running in because he missed me. Not because he cared. He'd stormed in because he wanted to save face. Wanted to be the Don. The man in charge.

And when Serafina cried out? He didn't even pause. Just scooped her up like she was some precious gem while I lay there, smoke choking the last bit of strength out of me.

Half an hour passed.

After making sure Serafina was safe, he tore through every hallway of the estate to find me.

But I was gone.

I still wasn't sure how I'd made it out. The flames were everywhere, roaring in my ears and stealing every breath from my lungs. Smoke clawed at my throat, filling me with dizzying heat. But when instinct finally took over, it wasn't calculation that saved me. It was something deeper, something animal, the part of me that refused to die in a house that had already killed everything else I loved.

I moved mid-cough, muscles screaming, adrenaline flooding my body in a rush of pain and power. Everything became clearer and sharper. Even through the haze, my focus locked onto one thing: survival.

My bag. I lunged for it, grabbing the strap with fingers I couldn't feel. It tasted like ash and desperation against my skin, but I clung to it. Then I threw myself through the shattered window.

Glass scraped my sides as I crashed through, landing hard on the grass outside. My legs buckled, my chest heaving. But I was alive. Barely.

And I didn't look back.

One of the side hallways must've been untouched, or maybe the fire hadn't reached that wing yet. I dragged myself down it blindly, lungs screaming, barely able to stand, until I reached the back service door. The one the kitchen staff used for deliveries, the one no soldier ever bothered to guard because nothing important ever came through it. I collapsed outside in the cold night air, coughing so hard I thought my ribs would snap.

No one saw me. No one followed.

And I didn't stop. Not even when my knees buckled. Not even when I had to use street signs and parked cars for support. I just kept going, because if I stopped, if I let myself get caught again, I knew I wouldn't survive it this time.

Then I boarded a flight to the Northern Territories.

The moment before takeoff, a message came in.

From Dominic:

[Don't have time for games, Bianca. I'm not playing hide-and-seek.]

I stared at the screen.

Then powered off the phone.