Four months pregnant. I was alone when a rival family came for me..

A searing pain tore through my stomach. I couldn't reach my husband, Don Lorenzo.

His phone was off.

I woke up in a sterile hospital bed. Three days had passed. And the baby... was gone.

That’s when I heard the nurses gossiping.

“Heard Don Lorenzo cleared out a block of Fifth Avenue for his mistress three days ago. Had his phone off so they wouldn't be disturbed.”

Tears rolled down my cheeks, but my heart was empty.

I gave up my career, my whole life, for him.

The Don who promised me forever… he shattered that promise just days before our fifth anniversary.

Back home, I dug out an old phone and made a call. A number I hadn't touched in five years.

"The European tour you mentioned…" I said, my voice hollow. "I'm in. I can be ready in a week."

I braced myself against the wall as I limped into the villa. Every step sent a fresh spike of pain through my abdomen.

"Elena?"

Lorenzo's voice came from the stairs.

I looked up. He was walking down, holding a bouquet of white lilies. He wore a gentle smile, one I hadn't seen in a long time.

"You're back." He rushed over. "Been dealing with a traitor in the family. Things got messy. Didn't have a chance to message you back."

A traitor.

How ironic.

"Heard you went to get your cello fixed?" he asked, stopping in front of me. "How'd it go?"

"They're still working on it." My voice was flat. Dead.

Lorenzo put the lilies on a side table and opened his arms for a hug.

"I missed you."

His arms were once my sanctuary. Now, the thought of his touch made my stomach churn.

There was a glaring hickey on his neck. Not even faded.

The sharp scent of perfume hit me from his collar. Tom Ford Black Orchid. Vanessa’s favorite.

I slapped a hand over my mouth. Bile rose in my throat.

I shoved at his chest, hard. Like he was poison.

"Elena!" His smile vanished. He gripped my shoulders, his voice tight with fake concern. "What's wrong? Is the baby acting up again?"

The baby. He brought up our baby.

An icy fist clamped around my heart and squeezed. Hard.

Yeah, Lorenzo. Our baby was "acting up."

He fought for his life inside me while you cleared the streets for another woman.

He was slowly dying inside me while you shut off your phone for your little world for two.

He left me for good while I was alone on that operating table.

The words swirled in my throat, but I couldn't say a thing.

All I could do was gag. I just nodded.

"...A little nauseous."

Lorenzo's brow furrowed, his eyes full of concern. "Should I call the doctor?"

"No," I said, pushing him away. "I just need to rest."

"Elena, I'm so sorry I wasn't here for you these last few days." His voice was thick with guilt. "To make it up to you, I got you something priceless."

Lorenzo produced a small, iconic red Cartier box.

"I've never seen you wear a necklace like this," he whispered in my ear, his tone full of suggestion. "I can't wait."

I opened the box.

A diamond-studded choker lay on the black velvet.

The kind of trashy accessory you'd find in a lingerie shop.

My stomach churned again.

I'd seen this necklace before.

Last night, I’d found myself on Vanessa's Instagram.

In the photo, she was lounging on a bed. The camera angled down, showing just her pale neck and collarbone.

She was wearing this exact choker. Her skin was covered in hickeys, like evidence.

The caption: [He said he wants me to be his one and only kitten.]

So, what was this?

A hand-me-down from his mistress? A prop from their little games he wanted to "recycle" on me?

Or did he want me, his wife, to wear this collar too? To join their sick, twisted game?

"Do you like it?" Lorenzo stared into my eyes.

I forced a bitter smile and nodded.

"Good." He closed the box, satisfied. "It's your fifth-anniversary gift. At the party, I'm going to tell everyone you're pregnant."

Announce my pregnancy.

I wondered what their faces would look like if they knew the baby had been dead for three days.

"Boss."

Marco rushed into the hall, his face grim.

"What is it?" Lorenzo frowned.

"The Serpente family is making a move. You need to handle it now."

Lorenzo looked at me, then nodded at Marco. "I'm on my way."

He turned back to me, kissing my forehead. "Get some rest. We'll pick out a dress for the party tomorrow."

They left in a hurry.

I stood alone in the empty hall, staring at the white lilies.

Lilies mean purity.

What a joke. There was nothing pure between us anymore.

I dragged my tired body to our bedroom and pulled a five-year-old phone from the back of the closet.

The one I used before I married Lorenzo. It still had all my contacts from Juilliard.

I dialed a number I hadn't called in a long, long time.

"Elena?" A familiar voice answered. "Oh my god, is that you?"

"Sophie, it's me."

"Five years! I thought I'd never hear from you again," Sophie said, her voice full of surprise. "Are you okay?"

"That European tour you mentioned..." I took a deep breath. "Is the offer still good?"

The line went quiet for a few seconds.

"Of course it is." Sophie's tone turned serious. "We've always kept a spot for you, Elena. The Vienna Philharmonic has been waiting."

"I can leave in seven days."

"What?" Sophie gasped. "What happened?"

I looked out the window at the music garden Lorenzo had built for me. Every flower was a reminder of how naive I once was.

"Get me a new ID, Sophie," I said, my voice steadier than ever. "Elena Moretti is dead."

I was a Juilliard prodigy. The mob was a world away from mine.

Then I met Lorenzo.

I was ten, on my first tour. He was fifteen, the Moretti heir.

He fell for me instantly.

For ten years, he never missed a performance.

He loved watching me shine on stage, he said.

Our wedding was the event of the season.

He promised to protect me, always.

Then a rival family snatched me after a show. He took three bullets getting me back.

The month he spent laid up changed him.

The family pressured him, and he caged me in this gilded mansion, forbidding me from ever performing again.

He’d come home late, kiss my scars, and swear he was happy to be my only audience.

When I got pregnant, the 'protection' doubled.

I had everything I could ever want. I thought we were unbreakable.

Then came Vanessa. The B-list model on his arm at every party. His open secret.

I became a thief, stealing glimpses of their life on her Instagram.

I could have lied to myself. Told myself he was just distracted.

But he skipped three of my ultrasounds for her photoshoots.

He missed the anniversary of my father's death to celebrate her birthday.

And he let me lose our child... just to go shopping with her. I'm done.

This marriage is over.

I cried myself to sleep. But Lorenzo, who had just left, came back.

He carried a bowl of my favorite soup and kissed my forehead.

"Trouble at the casino, baby. I have to go fix a few things. You rest. Drink this when you wake up, it's good for the baby."

A lump formed in my throat. I just hummed in agreement. He noticed something was off.

"If the baby's giving you a hard time, call the doctor. I'll be back as soon as I can."

He tucked me in and left. My heart sank even lower.

There's no more baby, Lorenzo. And no more us.

Morning sunlight cut through the curtains.

I reached for the other side of the bed. The sheets were still cold.

Lorenzo hadn't come home again.

I picked up my phone. My thumb opened Instagram out of a morbid, self-destructive habit.

Vanessa's latest post made my heart stop.

The first photo: She was in Lorenzo's office. Using my priceless, first-edition Bach manuscript—my most prized possession—as a coaster for her coffee cup.

Caption: "Guess this old sheet music is good for something."

I got that manuscript at an auction when I was sixteen.

Lorenzo knew what it meant to me. He kept it in the safest vault in his office.

Now his mistress was using it as a placemat.

I kept scrolling.

The second photo stole the air from my lungs.

Lorenzo and Vanessa, locked in a passionate kiss in a private pool, water splashing everywhere.

The background was our mountain villa. I knew it all too well.

Caption: "He says only I can give him this kind of thrill."

Lorenzo built that villa for me three years ago.

He said it was our place. That he'd never take anyone else there.

He promised the whole family that after the baby was born, he'd host a private concert for me there.

Everyone used to envy me for how much he cared.

Now, it was all hers.

My stomach twisted. I ran to the bathroom and dry-heaved.

"Elena?"

Lorenzo's voice came from downstairs.

I quickly deleted my browsing history, splashed water on my face, and went down.

He was at the dining table, eating breakfast. He smiled when he saw me.

"You're awake. How are you feeling?"

"Fine." I sat down across from him.

"There's a big underground auction tonight," Lorenzo said, cutting his steak. "I want to take you. I have a surprise for you."

My wound still ached, but I couldn't let it show.

"Okay."

Lorenzo nodded, satisfied. "It's a date."

At seven p.m., we arrived at the auction.

It was the most exclusive gathering in New York's underworld. Every item was worth a fortune.

Lorenzo sat beside me and took my hand.

"First item up for bid," the auctioneer announced. "An 18th-century Italian crown, made for a master cellist. Bidding starts at five hundred thousand dollars."

Lorenzo immediately raised his paddle. "One million."

The room went silent for a beat.

"Going twice, sold!"

Lorenzo turned to me, his eyes shining. "Today is the fifteenth anniversary of the day we met, Elena."

I stared at him, stunned.

He still remembered things like that?

"Fifteen years ago today, you played Beethoven's 9th at Carnegie Hall," Lorenzo said softly. "I was in the front row. I fell in love with you at that exact moment."

A wave of complicated feelings washed over me.

Maybe he still loved me.

Maybe Vanessa was just a mistake.

The people around us were giving me that familiar, envious look. I could hear them whispering.

"Don Lorenzo is still so in love with his wife."

"Everyone knows Mrs. Moretti is a world-class cellist. Any family that appreciates the arts would admire her."

...

"Next item: a replica of Mozart's original manuscript…"

The spotlight hit the stage. A tall woman in a skin-tight red dress sauntered out, holding a beautiful display case.

It was Vanessa.

She smiled at the crowd, showing off the item.

I felt Lorenzo's body go rigid beside me.

His expression was stiff, his eyes darting away from the stage.

"Do you know her?" I asked, testing him.

Lorenzo nodded, trying to look casual. "She's a model from an agency I invested in. Just an employee."

He turned to me with a smirk. "What, is my wife getting jealous?"

Lorenzo leaned in close, whispering in my ear. "You're the most beautiful one here. You're the only one for me."

He kissed my ear, just like he had a thousand times before.

I looked at Vanessa on the stage.

Her eyes met ours, and her smile froze.

A flash of jealousy burned in her eyes.

"And now for the Mozart manuscript, bidding starts at—"

Just as Lorenzo was about to raise his paddle, the lights in the venue started to flicker.

A woman’s shrill scream cut through the air.

"AHHH—"

It was Vanessa.

Lorenzo was on his feet in a heartbeat. Pure instinct. He bolted toward the stage.

And he left me behind.

BANG!

A gunshot. The whole place erupted in panic.

People scattered, screaming. Marco and the other bodyguards immediately formed a wall around me.

A few minutes later, the chaos was under control.

Lorenzo’s men had a few gunmen pinned to the floor.

“Serpente family,” Marco reported to Lorenzo. “They were aiming for you. Looks like just a warning shot.”

Lorenzo’s face was dark, but his eyes shot straight to the stage.

I followed his gaze.

Vanessa was a crumpled heap on the floor. Her expensive red dress was torn, revealing a long, pale slash of thigh.

There were scrapes on her hands and cheek, beading with blood. She looked pathetic. Fragile. A damsel in distress.

“My… my face…” she stammered, touching her cheek, her eyes wild. “Lorenzo, I can't see... I'm going to faint...”

On pure instinct, Lorenzo pushed through the crowd and rushed onto the stage.

He knelt, dabbing at the scratch on her face with his own silk pocket square.

"Don't be scared. It's just a scratch," he said, his voice tight with an urgency I'd never heard before.

The whispers around me were like needles.

“That’s Vanessa, isn't it? I heard Don Lorenzo pissed off the Serpentes to get her that magazine cover.”

“Exactly. The Serpentes swore they’d make her pay. Tonight was probably for her.”

It hit me all at once.

Tonight's attack wasn't for Lorenzo, and it wasn't even for me.

It was for the woman in his arms.

And I was just an innocent bystander, caught in their dirty affair.

Lorenzo’s eyes shot to me, a messy mix of guilt and desperation. “Elena, Vanessa is an asset. A scratch on her face is a million-dollar liability. She's hysterical. I have to get her to a private clinic right now.”

"It’s fine," I said, my smile a brittle mask. "I can get home myself."

Lorenzo hesitated for a second. "Marco, you take Elena home."

Then he bent down and scooped Vanessa into his arms.

“Lorenzo…” Vanessa whimpered, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face in his chest.

They rushed out of the auction house, right in front of me, in front of everyone.

This time, Lorenzo didn't even bother to put on an act.

“Ma’am, let’s go.” Marco came over to me. He had just finished a call, and his face was grim. “The Boss ordered us to evacuate through Exit C. He said the Serpentes might be at the main entrance. This route is supposedly safer.”

I laughed coldly to myself.

So he took his A-team and the armored car to save his mistress, while leaving his wife with a "supposedly safer" route.

I nodded numbly and followed Marco toward Exit C.

But we never made it.

Just as we reached the exit, several black sedans screeched to a halt, blocking our way. A dozen men with guns jumped out and immediately opened fire on us.

“Dammit! It’s a setup!” Marco roared, shoving me against the wall to shield me with his own body while firing back. He screamed into his radio, “Requesting backup! We're hit at Exit C!”

All that came back was static, then Lorenzo's frantic voice barking orders: “...They’re on us! Hold the line!”

He didn't even say my name.

The gunfire got heavier. We were completely suppressed, with no way out.

“Ma’am, we're sitting ducks here!” Marco had sweat pouring down his forehead. He glanced at the stream of traffic on the street not far away, a flash of resolve in his eyes.

He shoved me toward a hidden side door that led to a back alley.

“Ma’am, the car can't get through! Go this way, now!” He pulled a wad of cash from his pocket and shoved it into my hand. “Get to the street, hail a cab, and go to the safe house! Go! We’ll hold them off!”

I froze.

The wife of Don Moretti. Reduced to hailing a goddamn cab in the middle of a war he started for his whore.

What a fucking joke.

“Ma’am!” Marco yelled when he saw I wasn't moving. “Go!”

He used his body to block a spray of incoming bullets and let out a grunt.

I saw blood blooming on the back of his jacket. I looked at the chaos—a war that had nothing to do with me—and felt the last spark of hope inside me die.

I didn't hesitate again. I ran into the alley.

The streetlights blurred. I threw myself in front of a taxi.

“Where to?” the driver asked, terrified by my pale face and the gunshots behind me.

I wasn't going to any safe house.

"Brooklyn," I told him.

The taxi melted into the night, and I fell into an exhausted sleep.

Half an hour later, my phone buzzed and woke me up.

Another Instagram notification.

I opened it. My heart stopped.

Vanessa had posted a new picture.

Lorenzo was carefully dabbing ointment on her hand. His expression was focused, tender.

Just like he used to look when he took care of my wounds after I was attacked.

Caption: "His touch is even softer than I dreamed."

I scrolled down and saw a video.

They were in a private jet. Lorenzo was holding her, looking out at snow-capped mountains and the northern lights.

"A reward for my injured little kitten," Lorenzo's voice said in the video.

"A dream come true!" Vanessa giggled.

I couldn't hold back the tears anymore.

I covered my mouth and cried silently.

I knew opening my phone would just show me more of his betrayal, but I couldn't stop looking.

It was like I needed this pain to finally let go.

The next second, the taxi screeched to a halt.

My body lurched forward. The seatbelt dug into my stomach, sending a sharp pain through me.

Black sedans boxed us in.

Men in dark suits got out. On their chests was the silver snake crest of the Serpente family.

The leader rapped the window with the butt of his pistol. His eyes scanned me like I was cargo. "Elena Moretti," he grunted. "You're coming with us."

The driver's teeth were chattering.

I knew I had no choice. If they caught me, my fate would be worse than death.

Lorenzo wasn't coming to save me. Not this time.

The moment they pulled the door open, I threw all my weight against it, shoving it into one of them. Then I turned and ran, sprinting for the bridge up ahead.

"Get her!"

The angry shouts and footsteps behind me were a death drum.

My lungs were on fire. Every step tore at my wound.

I didn't care.

Pain is good. Pain keeps me awake.

The headlights on the bridge blinded me. I grabbed the railing. They were right behind me.

Nowhere to run.

A man sneered, reaching for me. "Don Lorenzo's woman. Nothing special after all."

I looked down at the dark, cold water below.

Yes. Nothing special. So let it all end.

I gave my pursuers one last, defiant smile, swung myself over the railing, and plunged into the darkness below.

The icy water swallowed me whole. The cold shot from my limbs straight to my heart.

I couldn't breathe, but I felt a strange sense of peace.

Look, Lorenzo. Your little bird finally broke her own wings.

Does that make me free?

...

But reality let me down again.

When I woke up, it was the same hospital room.

White ceiling, smell of antiseptic.

"You're awake," a nurse said, coming over. "You need to be more careful. You just had a miscarriage, you can't be running around."

Miscarriage.

I glanced at the calendar on the wall. Today was my wedding anniversary with Lorenzo.

It was also the day I was leaving.

"There's no time." I struggled to sit up. "I'm checking out."

"You need to be observed—"

"I said I'm checking out."

I got dressed and hurried out.

The nurse followed me. "Mrs. Moretti, you can't just—"

Around the corner of the hallway, I saw a familiar sight.

Lorenzo was with Vanessa, walking out of a doctor's office.

"You're making a big deal out of nothing," Vanessa said, standing on her toes to give Lorenzo a quick kiss. "What's a little scratch on my face?"

Lorenzo turned and saw me.

He pushed Vanessa away and rushed over.

"Elena? What are you doing here?" Panic flashed in his eyes. "Is something wrong with the baby?"

The nurse started to speak. "Mrs. Moretti's baby—"

"The baby's fine," I cut her off, my voice like steel. "Just a routine check-up."

Lorenzo breathed a sigh of relief.

"More family business to take care of?" I asked with an understanding smile. "You should go."

Lorenzo pulled me into a hug, whispering in my ear. "Elena, the most important thing during pregnancy is to stay happy. I'll be home as soon as I'm done."

"Okay," I nodded, hugging him back.

I breathed him in one last time. A final memory. A final goodbye.

There was nothing left to say.

Back home, I packed my bags.

Then I took out a beautiful gift box and put a small note on it:

"Happy Anniversary."

Inside the box, I placed three things:

The divorce papers.

The screenshots from Vanessa's social media.

And the report from my miscarriage surgery.

I walked out of the house that used to be my home, pulling my suitcase behind me.

At the airport, I threw out my SIM card.

"Flight EL012 is now boarding."

The announcement echoed through the terminal.

I took one last look at the New York skyline.

Lorenzo. Goodbye for good.