After work, I was about to meet a tribute partner when Dante's black sedan pulled to the curb in front of me. "Get in," he said. "I'll take Serafina home first, then take you to the seafood buffet on Maple Road."

Serafina leaned out from the passenger seat with a bright smile. "Sorry, Bianca, I'm hitching a ride again!" she said cheerfully.

I raised my hand to hail a cab and replied casually, "You two go ahead. I'm allergic to seafood."

Dante's face darkened immediately. He knew I had never been allergic. That buffet was one of my favorites.

He looked like he wanted to say something, but I didn't give him the chance. I stepped around the car and got into a taxi on the other side of the road, closing the door behind me without looking back.

I hadn't expected Dante to show up at the restaurant, let alone bring Serafina with him. When I arrived, the client hadn't come yet, and the table felt unusually quiet. The private dining room the hostess led me to was one of those back-corner arrangements with heavy curtains and a single exit, the kind of place where men like Vittorio Marino preferred to do business. Not long after, Dante walked in as if it were the most natural thing in the world, Serafina following closely behind him. Without asking for my permission, they took the seats directly across from me.

Feeling both confused and irritated, I didn't bother hiding my displeasure. "I have an appointment," I said bluntly. "With Vittorio Marino." My tone made it clear that they weren't welcome to stay.

Dante raised an eyebrow slightly, his expression calm but carrying an unspoken authority. "Has Vittorio ever said he doesn't want to see me?" he asked casually, as if my objection held no weight at all.

I paused, my words caught in my throat. There was nothing I could say to that. In the end, I fell silent and didn't insist further. No matter what, Dante was still the Don, and in this setting, I had no position to challenge him openly.

When Vittorio Marino arrived, the atmosphere shifted into formal politeness. Two of his soldiers took positions near the curtain without being told. During the meal, Vittorio instructed his man to open a bottle of fine wine, clearly intending to entertain and build rapport. The rich aroma soon filled the air.

I frowned slightly as I looked at the glass being poured. My thoughts drifted back to the day I had gone to schedule the abortion. The doctor had spoken to me with unusual seriousness, repeating the warning more than once. "After your miscarriage from the car accident, your uterus is already damaged," she had said. "It's a miracle you can get pregnant again. If you lose this one too, you may never be able to conceive again."

Remembering those words, I pressed my lips together. I was just about to decline the wine politely when Serafina suddenly spoke up, her voice bright and cheerful. "I've heard people say Bianca has an amazing alcohol tolerance," she said with a smile. "I've always wanted to see it for myself. Looks like today I finally get the chance!"

Her eyes sparkled with what seemed like admiration, her expression completely innocent, as if she had no ulterior motive behind her words. Her fingers drifted to the thin strap of her necklace and smoothed it once, lightly.

I turned my head slightly and looked at her, my gaze cold. "Who told you that?" I asked, my tone calm but sharp enough to cut through her performance.

Her smile froze instantly. She looked flustered, then quickly turned to Dante, her voice turning soft and uncertain. "Did I say something wrong again…?" she asked, as if she were genuinely worried.

Dante reached out and casually ruffled her hair, his gesture gentle and indulgent. Then he looked at me, his expression turning cold again. "Bianca, it's just a glass of wine," he said flatly. "You're not a child anymore. Stop acting so reserved."

A chill spread through my chest at his words. I pressed my thumbnail into the inside of my wrist beneath the table, feeling the skin pale under the pressure. Meeting his indifferent gaze, I forced a faint smile onto my lips. Then, enunciating each word clearly, I said, "Don Ravazzani, I can't drink. I'm pregnant."

The moment the words left my mouth, the entire table fell silent. It was as if time had frozen for a second. Vittorio's hand paused over his napkin. One of the soldiers by the curtain shifted his weight. Dante's signet ring, which he had been turning idly with his thumb a moment before, went completely still.

Serafina was the first to react. The surprise in her eyes flickered briefly before she quickly masked it. She stood up with a smile, raising her glass. "Congratulations, Bianca!" she said brightly, as if she were genuinely happy for me.

She lifted the glass to her lips, about to drink, but Dante immediately reached out to stop her. "Serafina, you're pregnant. You can't drink," he said, his voice firm, concern evident in every word.

For once, Serafina didn't obey. She shook her head, her expression suddenly turning determined. "No, I want to drink," she insisted. "Ever since I came to Duskmire, I've made you unhappy again and again. This glass is my apology to you, Bianca!"

Her voice grew more emotional as she spoke. Before anyone could stop her, she tilted her head back and gulped down the wine in one go. The next second, her brows knitted tightly together as she started coughing violently. Her cheeks flushed red, and tears instantly welled up in her eyes.

Dante's expression changed immediately. He looked at her with obvious concern, his brows furrowed, his entire focus on her. The next moment, he stood up abruptly and pointed at me, anger flashing across his face. "Are you satisfied now?" he demanded. "Only someone as innocent as Serafina would believe you! If anything happens to the baby in her belly, I will never forgive you!"

I slowly lifted my eyelids and looked at him, my expression calm to the point of indifference. "Do as you please," I replied lightly, as if his words no longer held any weight.

Without waiting for another response, I turned to Vittorio Marino and offered a brief apology. Then I picked up my things and prepared to leave, not wanting to stay in that suffocating atmosphere any longer.

Just as I reached the door, Dante's voice rang out sharply behind me. "Bianca, I've tolerated you for long enough!" he said, his tone filled with anger. "In your eyes, everything Serafina does is wrong! If you really can't accept her, then why don't we just end this marriage?"

The private room went dead silent. Vittorio Marino's hand paused over his napkin. One of the soldiers posted at the far wall shifted his weight, a barely perceptible adjustment, the way men do when they sense the ground is about to open beneath a conversation. No one at that table could have missed what just happened. A Don, in front of an allied boss, had spoken aloud about a union that was never supposed to exist in public.

I paused for a moment, genuinely surprised. But the surprise quickly faded, replaced by an unexpected sense of relief. After five years of a church-sanctioned union, he had never once publicly acknowledged our relationship. And now, just to force me to compromise in front of Serafina, he had finally said it himself.

I turned back and looked at him. His handsome face was twisted with anger, his expression unfamiliar and distant. I nodded slowly, my voice steady. "Fine," I said. "Let's get a severance."

With that, I walked out of the private dining room without looking back, as if closing the door on everything that had tied us together.

Outside the restaurant, the air felt colder than before. The street was quiet, the kind of quiet that only existed on blocks the Family kept clean. I took out my phone and called my attorney, discussing the next steps as I walked along the street. My voice was calm, almost detached. A church annulment, financial separation from the fronts, formal notification to the consigliere. Each word I spoke felt like pulling a stitch from a wound that had never properly healed.

In the middle of the call, a sudden bright light flashed into my eyes, blinding me for a moment. Before I could react, I saw a car speeding straight toward me, its momentum unstoppable.

A wave of fear surged through me. My legs went weak, and I stumbled backward, falling onto the ground. Just as the car was about to hit me, the driver slammed on the brakes, the tires screeching loudly. The car swerved sharply, narrowly missing me, and then sped off without stopping.

I sat there on the ground, my mind blank, my heart pounding wildly in my chest. A passing girl rushed over to help me up. But the moment her hand touched my waist, she suddenly screamed.

"Oh my God! Why are you bleeding so much?" she cried, her voice filled with panic.

I lowered my head in confusion. Only then did I notice the large pool of blood spreading beneath me, staining the ground. The sight made everything feel distant and unreal.

At the hospital, the doctor spoke urgently, telling me to contact my family as soon as possible. The words felt far away, as if they weren't meant for me.

I gripped my phone tightly, my fingers trembling slightly. My thumbnail pressed hard into the inside of my wrist until the skin went white. My gaze lingered on Dante's number for a long moment. Then, slowly, I moved my finger away and dialed my attorney instead.

In my mind, one detail kept replaying over and over again. The car that had just charged at me had the exact same plates as one of the Family's cars. The black sedan Dante and I had chosen together.

I stayed in the hospital until noon the next day. The hours dragged by slowly, filled with the sterile smell of disinfectant and the quiet beeping of machines. No one came to visit me, and the ward felt unusually empty. During that entire time, Dante only sent me a single message.

"The pipes at Serafina's place burst, so I'm bringing her to the estate to stay."

The wording was simple, almost casual, but I recognized immediately that it wasn't written by him. The tone, the phrasing, even the timing. It was Serafina using his phone.

After being discharged, I went straight home. Standing at the estate's side entrance, I entered the gate code as usual, but the panel beeped with an error. I frowned slightly and tried again, slower this time, but it still didn't work. Just as I was about to attempt it a third time, the door suddenly opened from the inside.

Serafina peeked out from behind the door, smiling brightly. She was wearing my apron, the one I usually used in the kitchen. "Bianca, you're finally back!" she said cheerfully. "The old code was too complicated, I couldn't remember it, so Dante changed it to my birthday."

Before I could respond, she stepped aside and ushered me in like a gracious hostess. "Come in, come in. Sit down, I'll get you some water!" Her tone was warm and enthusiastic, as if she truly belonged here.

The moment I stepped inside, the aroma of food drifted toward me from the kitchen. Serafina quickly ran to the doorway and called out in a lively voice, "Dante, Bianca is back!"

A moment later, Dante walked out. He was wearing a couple's apron, the matching one I had bought for him a long time ago. Back then, he had dismissed it as childish and refused to wear it even once. Now, seeing him in it, I didn't feel warmth. If anything, it looked oddly out of place on a man whose soldiers waited outside the front gate with guns under their jackets.

He glanced at me briefly, then turned to Serafina and spoke in a gentle tone, telling her to go back to her room. Serafina nodded obediently, grabbed a bag of peanut snacks from the table, and casually walked straight into my bedroom, as if it were her own.

Soon, the living room was left with just Dante and me. The atmosphere instantly turned stiff. He looked at me with a stern expression and said coldly, "So you still know how to come back?"

I didn't respond to the accusation in his eyes. Instead, I asked calmly, "Is Serafina… eating peanuts?"

The question seemed unrelated, but I couldn't ignore the memory. When Serafina had first gotten pregnant, Dante had asked me to prepare special meals for her. Back then, I had added a few peanuts to one of the dishes without knowing her condition. She had a severe allergic reaction, and Dante had lost his temper at me, blaming me harshly. The whole house had heard it. Two of his soldiers had stood in the hallway pretending to study the floor while the Don tore into his own wife over a handful of peanuts meant for his mistress.

Dante frowned, clearly confused. "What are you talking about?" he asked, as if the memory meant nothing to him.

I knew then that he had already forgotten. The incident that had once been so serious to me no longer existed in his mind. I didn't bother explaining. "It's nothing," I said lightly.

He didn't pursue the topic further. Instead, his gaze swept over me from head to toe, assessing. "Alright," he said after a pause. "Go get changed and put on some makeup. Today is Serafina's birthday. I've booked a private room at the Omega."

The Omega was one of the Family's front restaurants, a place where the walls were thick enough that no conversation carried and the staff knew never to remember a face.

He paused briefly, then added in a measured tone, "Just keep it light. Don't outshine the birthday girl."

Without thinking, I replied, "I don't have time. You two go ahead." My voice was calm, but firm.

Dante's brows furrowed deeper. "Serafina has already told her friends that her brother and sister-in-law are hosting her birthday," he said. "If you don't show up, where is she supposed to put her face?"

He didn't stop there. "I know you're jealous of her youth and her ability to have children," he continued, his tone growing colder. "But not being able to get pregnant isn't her fault. Do you really need to compete with her over everything?"

Then he softened slightly, as if offering a compromise. "Here's the deal. Tonight, you celebrate her birthday properly. Another day, I'll grant you a wish. Anywhere you want to travel, you choose."

I fell silent for a moment, letting his words settle. Then I smiled faintly and nodded. "Alright," I said simply.

That evening, I carefully put on a full set of makeup, making sure every detail was flawless. When I walked into the private room at the Omega on time, I could feel the attention shift toward me.

For a brief moment, Dante seemed stunned. He quickly composed himself and walked over, reaching out to hold my hand as if nothing had changed. His signet ring pressed cold against my fingers.

Serafina's expression flickered slightly, but she recovered almost instantly. She smoothed the thin strap of her dress between her finger and thumb, just once, then smiled brightly and confidently introduced me to her friends, speaking as if we were a harmonious family.

In the corner, her long-distance boyfriend, Nico Gallo, lounged lazily, a cigarette between his fingers. He looked indifferent, barely paying attention, as if the entire scene had nothing to do with him. A low-level associate with no rank and no future, tolerated only because Serafina kept him around as a prop.

Soon, the waiter pushed in a beautifully decorated three-tier cake that Dante had specially ordered. The candles flickered softly, casting a warm glow across Serafina's face.

She clasped her hands together and closed her eyes to make a wish. Her expression was gentle and composed, like a princess in a carefully staged moment. "Ever since I came to the city, my brother and sister-in-law have taken such good care of me," she began, her voice soft and sincere. "My biggest wish is that I can always stay a family with my brother and sister-in-law—"

Before she could finish, my bag suddenly slipped from my hand and fell to the floor with a dull sound. A piece of paper slid out from inside, landing in clear view.

Dante bent down instinctively and picked it up for me. But the moment his eyes landed on the words printed on it, his expression changed drastically.

The color drained from his face as he stared at the paper. The words "Post-abortion Care Instructions" were stark and unmistakable.

He looked up at me, his voice tense and sharp. "Bianca… what is this?"