Serena’s POV

I thought I was finally free.

But I hadn’t even reached the estate gates when two of Nico Vescari’s security men stepped out from the shadows.

Black suits. Earpieces. Glock holsters hidden under tailored jackets.

They weren’t guards.

They were enforcers.

Before I could react, they grabbed me by both arms.

“Ma’am, we have to bring you back,” one said flatly. “Don’s order.”

My stomach dropped. “Let me go—what are you talking about?”

“The clinic,” the other replied. “He needs your blood.”

For a second, my brain refused to process it.

“My—what?”

I struggled, but their grip didn’t even tighten. They didn’t need force. In Nico’s world, orders were heavier than violence.

“Why would he need my blood?” My voice cracked. “For who?”

Silence.

No answer.

Just dragging me back through the gates like I was property being returned.

---

The estate clinic was already lit when they shoved me inside.

Sterile white. Cold metal. The kind of place you only saw when someone in the Syndicate got shot and couldn’t risk a public hospital.

And there he was.

Nico Vescari.

Standing by the glass wall like he hadn’t just ordered my return like an asset retrieval.

His suit was still immaculate. No blood. No guilt.

Just control.

“You brought me back for this?” I laughed, but it broke halfway. “To drain me?”

He didn’t even look up from the medical cDe Luca. “Stop being dramatic. You’re helping.”

“Helping?” My voice rose. “I’m your wife, not your blood bank.”

At that, he finally looked at me.

Cold. Detached.

“You always make things emotional,” he said. “It’s exhausting.”

Something in me snapped.

“You’re using me for her,” I said. “For your mistress.”

His jaw tightened slightly—barely there, but I saw it.

“Sit down,” he ordered.

I didn’t move.

So they strapped me in.

Wrists locked to the chair. Leather restraints. Like I was someone dangerous.

Or disposable.

The needle went in.

Pain shot clean through my arm—sharp, immediate, invasive. The machine started pulling.

My vision wavered.

I bit down on my lip so hard I tasted blood, refusing to make a sound.

Behind me, one of the medics hesitated. “Don Vescari… she’s already weak. We shouldn’t—”

“She’ll survive,” Nico said. “She always does.”

Always.

Like I wasn’t human. Just a resource that refilled itself.

The line kept draining me.

I turned my head slightly, voice trembling. “So this is what I am now? Inventory?”

No answer.

Only the hum of the machine.

Then—

A cough.

From the adjoining room.

Soft. Delicate.

Natalie.

“She needs more,” Nico said immediately, already turning away.

I laughed. It came out broken.

“Of course she does.”

My eyes burned. “So I die for her, and she lives because of me?”

Another cough. Louder.

“Nico…” her voice called weakly.

And just like that—

He walked away.

Left me strapped in.

Left me bleeding.

Left me mid-extraction.

“Continue,” he said over his shoulder. “Double it.”

The medic froze. “Sir, if we increase the volume—she may go into shock.”

“I said continue.”

The words landed heavier than the needle.

I stared at the ceiling as my strength started slipping.

“Nico…” My voice barely came out. “You’re killing me.”

He paused at the doorway.

Looked back at me like I was a problem he hadn’t solved yet.

“She needs it more than you do.”

And that was it.

Not anger.

Not heartbreak.

Just something inside me shutting down completely.

---

When I came to, the restraints were gone.

I was on a cot in the back room of the clinic.

Dim light. Quiet monitors. The smell of antiseptic and blood that wasn’t all mine.

Mr. Rowan was there.

A Syndicate doctor. The kind who cleaned up consequences without asking questions.

“You’re stable,” he said carefully.

“For now?” My voice was hoarse.

He didn’t answer fast enough.

My hand moved instinctively to my stomach.

And I already knew.

“I’m sorry,” Rowan said quietly. “We couldn’t save the pregnancy.”

The room stopped moving.

“No,” I said immediately. “No, you’re wrong.”

My breath shattered halfway through my chest.

“That’s not possible.”

But Rowan didn’t correct me.

He just looked down.

And that silence confirmed everything.

Something inside me broke clean.

Not loud.

Not dramatic.

Final.

I swung my legs off the cot and forced myself up, even as my body shook.

“Nico,” I said, voice shaking into fury. “He killed my child.”

The hallway didn’t answer.

Of course it didn’t.

He was with her.

Always with her.

I laughed once—sharp, empty.

Then my knees hit the floor.

“I’ll make him regret this,” I whispered. “I swear it.”

Rowan stepped closer. “You need to rest.”

I shoved him away. “Don’t touch me.”

Silence followed.

Heavy. Absolute.

Then I looked up at him.

“Get me my discharge papers,” I said quietly. “And every record from this clinic.”

A pause.

Then—

“I’m done being the Don’s wife.”

Serena’s POV

I was stuck in a hospital bed, still lightheaded from the blood loss. My arms ached, the world tilting every time I tried to sit up.

But the pain wasn’t what broke me.

It was the silence after everything.

I had lost my child.

And in the mafia world Nico Vescari ruled, grief didn’t slow anything down.

Someone sent me a video.

Nico at a black-tie Syndicate gala—wine in hand, laughing with foreign capos like nothing in his life had ever cracked.

Natalie beside him.

His hand at her waist like she was already branded into his empire.

Another clip came in later.

Private dinner. No cameras except the Syndicate’s own security feed.

He fed her dessert like she was the center of the room. Like I was just… background noise that had stopped existing.

He looked happy.

Like I had been erased cleanly.

When I was discharged, no convoy came.

No driver.

No Vescari men waiting at the gates.

Just me, a hospital bag, and the quiet humiliation of realizing I had officially fallen off his radar.

I still had nowhere else to go but the estate.

So I went back.

That was how I saw them.

Outside the private maternity wing of Vescari Medical.

Natalie glowing like she belonged in the highest tier of the underworld—designer coat, guarded by Syndicate nurses who only treated “protected women.”

Nico stood beside her, hand resting on her back like a claim.

A nurse passed and smiled brightly. “Mrs. Vescari, your checkup results look excellent.”

My stomach twisted.

Mrs. Vescari.

She didn’t even correct herself.

Neither did he.

I turned away before anyone saw my face break.

Then—

“Serena.”

His voice cut through the hallway like a drawn blade.

I stopped.

Of course he noticed me.

Nico always noticed what he still considered his property.

I turned slowly.

“I wasn’t looking for you,” I said flatly. “I just got discharged.”

Natalie clung to his arm immediately, soft and calculated.

“Babe,” she said, tilting her head, “let her come with us. She helped me before… with the blood thing.”

Like it was charity.

Like I wasn’t bleeding out for her child.

Nico exhaled. Then nodded once.

“Fine.”

That was it.

No hesitation.

No regard.

Just an order shifting me into his schedule like baggage.

So I got in the car.

Because in the Vescari Syndicate, you didn’t refuse a Don in public.

Even if he had already stopped seeing you as his wife.

The ride started in silence.

Then Natalie turned slightly in her seat, smiling.

“Oh,” she said lightly, as if remembering brunch gossip. “My underwear is still in the backseat.”

My head moved before I could stop it.

She giggled.

“Can you believe it, babe?” she said, looking at Nico. “After last week in the car?”

Nico’s mouth curved faintly. “You’re careless.”

“Mmm,” she hummed. “You weren’t complaining when you had me against the door outside the border checkpoint.”

The car went quiet except for the engine.

Natalie leaned back, enjoying it.

“Or when you pulled over because I wouldn’t stop touching you—”

“Enough,” I said.

Not loud.

Just final.

Silence snapped shut instantly.

Even the driver stiffened.

Natalie only smiled wider, like she’d won something invisible.

I looked out the window instead.

My hands shook as I opened my phone.

Elio’s message was already waiting.

Flight confirmed. 9:00 PM. Private strip.

I stared at it for a second too long.

Then typed:

Thank you. I’m coming.

His reply came fast.

What happened? You can trust me.

My fingers paused.

I could tell him everything. He was the only man in the underground who had ever treated me like I wasn’t replaceable.

But I didn’t want another war started in my name.

So I answered:

I just need out.

That was enough truth.

The only one that mattered anymore.

The phone was suddenly yanked from my hand.

I went still.

Not startled.

Just… done.

I turned to Nico slowly.

“Seriously?” I asked quietly. “We’re doing that now?”

His eyes didn’t leave the road.

“Who are you talking to?”

“No one you care about,” I said.

“What’s the passcode.”

I almost laughed.

“The day we met,” I said. “Try not to forget it this time.”

He tried.

Once.

Twice.

Locked.

Natalie leaned closer, amused.

“Just give up, Serena,” she said sweetly. “You don’t really have anyone left anyway.”

She looked at me like I was already erased from the Syndicate’s ledger.

Like I was no longer a wife.

Not even an enemy.

Just… expendable.

And for the first time—

I believed her.

Serena’s POV

When we got back to the estate, Nico didn’t even glance at me.

He walked Natalie straight inside like she was already registered in the house ledger—his hand steady on her back, his voice low as he called for the chef. Something about broth, something about cravings, something about her being “weak.”

Like the Vescari estate had suddenly become a clinic for her comfort.

I stood near the entrance with my suitcase still in hand, watching it all like I was a guest who had overstayed in a place I never owned.

As Nico came back down the stairs, he paused for half a second when he saw me heading toward the guest wing.

Then he spoke to the staff instead of me.

“Add two more dishes,” he said. “Serena’s favorites. Set a third place.”

I stopped walking.

Slowly.

For a second, I almost laughed.

So that was it. That was his version of fixing things.

Not an apology. Not a conversation. Just… food.

Like I was a capo who could be paid off with a seat at the table.

I didn’t answer. I just kept walking.

---

The guest room was cold when I stepped in.

Not the air—the estate was always perfectly controlled—but the feeling.

Empty.

Like the walls had already forgotten me.

I shut the door, dropped my suitcase, and knelt to unzip it.

I already knew what I was going to do next. Leave quietly. No scene. No warning.

But the moment I opened it—

My hands stopped.

Everything inside was destroyed.

My clothes were cut cleanly. Not ripped. Not torn.

Cut.

Deliberate. Precise. Like someone had used a blade instead of anger.

A message from someone who knew how to hurt without leaving noise.

My throat tightened.

Then I saw it.

My passport. My IDs. My documents.

Untouched.

Left carefully in the lining like a signature.

A warning.

Not a mistake.

Natalie.

Of course.

I exhaled slowly. No shock anymore. Just fatigue settling deeper into my bones.

I started packing what was left. Fast. Mechanical. No hesitation.

That was when the door opened.

No knock.

No permission.

I didn’t turn around.

“Natalie,” I said flatly.

She stepped in like she owned the corridor outside too. One hand held a small black vial—medical-grade, sealed. Syndicate clinic type.

Her eyes scanned the room before landing on me.

Then she smiled.

“Still here,” she said.

I stood.

She tilted her head. “After everything, you’re still trying to stay close to him. That’s kind of pathetic, Serena.”

I didn’t respond.

She walked around the room slowly, like she was inspecting seized property after a raid.

“Oh,” she said casually. “Your grandmother passed, right?”

My fingers went cold.

She watched my face carefully when she said it. Like she wanted confirmation of impact.

“You were begging him to go,” she continued. “Kneeling, crying. Very dramatic.”

My jaw tightened.

Natalie lifted her phone.

Tapped once.

Turned the screen toward me.

Nico.

Kissing her.

Captured in high resolution under the Syndicate’s own private security feed.

“This was the same day,” she said lightly.

My breathing caught.

I remembered that day.

I remembered the hospital calls. The urgency. The way I couldn’t even think straight.

And I remembered Nico’s voice.

I’m busy.

Busy wasn’t a meeting.

Busy was her.

Something in me went very still.

Not loud. Not dramatic.

Just… irreversible.

Natalie leaned back against the desk, watching me like she was enjoying the quiet collapse.

“You really weren’t important,” she said softly.

Silence stretched.

Then I laughed.

Once.

Low.

Sharp.

“You think this is power?” I said.

Her smile tightened slightly.

I stepped closer.

“You didn’t take anything from me,” I continued, voice steadying with every word. “You just exposed him.”

Natalie’s eyes flickered.

I tilted my head.

“You’re not his queen,” I said. “You’re just the distraction he hasn’t gotten bored of yet.”

That landed.

Her smile cracked at the edges.

“And one day,” I added quietly, “he’s going to realize you were never worth the blood he’s wasting on you.”

For the first time—

Natalie didn’t look amused.