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?"