The rain slowly faded into a light drizzle.

Serafina wandered through the empty streets without direction.

She didn’t know where she was going.

She only followed the warmth glowing from the small shops along the road, drawn by the scent of freshly baked bread and the steam rising from the windows.

By the time she realized where she was standing, she was already in front of her father’s storefront.

This small shop had always been one of the Family’s quieter businesses.

On the surface, it sold ordinary bread and pastries.

Behind the scenes, it carried another purpose.

In the back kitchen, Carlo Colombo was kneading dough and preparing fillings.

When he heard footsteps outside, he didn’t turn around.

“It’s still too early. The pastries aren’t ready yet. Come back later.”

But the person outside didn’t leave.

After a few seconds of silence, Carlo finally looked up.

The moment he saw her, he froze.

Then disbelief and joy flashed across his face.

“Serafina…”

He quickly wiped his flour-covered hands on his apron and walked toward her.

He looked nervous, almost like a child who didn’t know what to do.

“What are you doing here?”

“It’s raining so heavily. Come inside quickly. You’ll catch a cold.”

Serafina wanted to leave.

Her first instinct was still to turn around.

But her feet refused to move.

She stood there quietly.

For a long time, neither of them spoke.

Carlo lowered his head.

His thumb rubbed against the back of his hand, picking at his skin.

It was the same habit he had whenever guilt overwhelmed him.

Only then did Serafina notice how much he had changed.

The man who once seemed strong enough to protect the entire family now had silver mixed throughout his hair.

She remembered when she was young.

She had once owned a happy family.

But everything collapsed after her mother became seriously ill.

That rainy night had never left her.

The sound of the door being kicked open.

The debt collectors breaking into their home.

Her mother choosing to end her own life rather than continue carrying the unbearable pressure.

Her aunt dragging her away, demanding she become a bargaining piece for a marriage arrangement.

For years, hatred had lived inside Serafina.

Hatred toward her aunt.

Hatred toward her father.

And most of all, hatred toward the helpless girl she used to be.

But no matter how deep the resentment was, one truth remained.

The man standing before her was her last family.

The only person connected to her by blood.

In their world, blood was the only bond that could never be completely erased.

Serafina finally sighed.

A tired breath.

But to Carlo, it sounded like forgiveness was finally within reach.

He rubbed his hands nervously and looked at her carefully.

“I’m exhausted.”

Serafina’s voice was quiet.

“I just want to sleep.”

Carlo’s eyes immediately brightened.

“Of course. Of course.”

He stepped aside quickly.

“I’ve cleaned your room every day.”

“I always thought maybe one day you would come back.”

“I’ll wake you when your favorite pastries are ready.”

Serafina only responded with a soft hum.

She walked upstairs.

But before disappearing, she glanced back once.

She saw Carlo quickly wipe away the tears at the corner of his eyes.

She turned away.

She didn’t want to see anymore.

Her phone rang moments later.

Carlo noticed the sound and immediately lowered the volume, afraid it would disturb her.

Then he walked outside into the rain before answering.

By the time the call ended, his expression had changed.

Pain flashed across his face.

His lips moved slightly.

There were words he wanted to say.

But in the end, he swallowed them.

Only his heavy breathing remained.

Serafina woke to the sound of the old washing machine downstairs.

Her fingers unconsciously touched the card inside her pocket.

The card Dante had given her.

After lying there for a long time, she finally made a decision.

She called.

After applying a little makeup and changing into a pair of heels, Serafina walked downstairs.

Carlo stood by the door.

Dark circles showed beneath his eyes.

He hesitated before speaking softly.

“Be careful.”

Serafina opened her mouth.

But no words came.

After a moment, she simply nodded.

Carlo watched her leave.

He didn’t turn away until the car disappeared from sight.

At that exact moment, Augusto arrived.

He stepped out of his car, wiping his hands with a disinfectant cloth.

As usual, he carefully cleaned every finger.

A drop of sterilizing alcohol crossed each knuckle.

He walked past the vehicle leaving the street.

Separated by only a car window.

He never saw her.

“She just left?”

Augusto looked toward the disappearing car.

He covered his nose with a handkerchief, frowning at the dust left behind.

Dante’s message still lingered in his mind.

Something felt wrong.

In their world, survival depended on sensing danger before it arrived.

The silence before violence.

The calm before bloodshed.

Augusto was about to ask Carlo to pass a message to Serafina.

Then his phone rang.

Ceciliana.

“Arturo’s gallery is searching for a new curator again.”

Her voice carried excitement.

“I was so disappointed last time because I missed meeting him when he was sick.”

“This time, I can’t miss it.”

“You’ll come with me, right?”

Augusto answered without hesitation.

“Of course.”

With the Montanari family supporting her, obtaining the position would not be difficult.

But that was not the reason he agreed.

What he enjoyed was the feeling of being needed.

Meanwhile, inside the gallery.

The atmosphere was quiet and elegant.

This was one of the Ricci Family’s most important fronts.

Here, wealth moved through paintings instead of weapons.

Every brushstroke carried hidden value.

Dante sat across from Serafina, carefully reading her proposal.

“Bound by the cocoon, expressing a free soul.”

His finger tapped lightly against the table.

His voice was calm.

But the moment Serafina heard those words, her body froze.

Memories returned instantly.

The curator selection.

The competition between her and Ceciliana.

The final vote that had ended in a tie.

The final decision had belonged to the silent investor.

Augusto.

She remembered the day she handed him her proposal.

She had spent countless nights studying Arturo’s work.

Every painting.

Every hidden meaning.

Every possible interpretation.

She had rewritten the proposal again and again, hoping to create something perfect.

She knew she was being selfish.

She hoped that even if Augusto tried to remain fair, a small part of him would still choose her.

But he didn’t.

He chose Ceciliana.

His cold announcement destroyed everything.

Ceciliana’s laughter.

The whispers around them.

The mocking voices.

“So fair-minded.”

“You just don’t want your precious Ceciliana to work too hard, right?”

Augusto accepted those praises calmly.

His eyes never left Ceciliana.

That was the first time Serafina walked away without caring about his feelings.

Later, when Augusto found her, he didn’t apologize.

He didn’t comfort her.

He only said:

“She’s more suitable than you.”

The memory still burned.

Her anger surged.

And just as a cup of hot coffee nearly spilled onto her clothes, Dante reached out and steadied it.

“Careful.”

He handed her a tissue.

Serafina quickly thanked him.

She looked down at the stain and frowned at herself.

Dante noticed her discomfort.

“Someone will clean it soon.”

“Don’t worry.”

Then he returned to the proposal.

“Your interpretation of Arturo’s work is different.”

“But it is also the closest to what he wanted to express.”

“I believe this exhibition is in capable hands.”

Serafina’s eyes stung slightly.

So this was what genuine recognition felt like.

Not because of her relationship with someone.

Not because of her family name.

Simply because of her ability.

During the gallery tour, the pain in her feet gradually worsened.

The heels had already rubbed her skin raw.

When no one noticed, she quietly bent down and pressed her swollen ankle.

At the end of the hall stood the final piece.

A painting hidden behind a deep red curtain.

Dante slowly pulled the curtain aside.

Serafina noticed a faint scar on his wrist.

A thin mark left by a sharp object.

His thumb brushed over it once.

Then stopped.

“This is the centerpiece of the exhibition.”

“Arturo’s unreleased work.”

“Breaking Net.”

The canvas revealed golden-white roses blooming across the surface.

Fine golden threads extended from the petals, spreading outward like a beautiful cage.

In the corner was a single unbroken brushstroke.

The signature only the Family recognized.

The only proof of Arturo’s identity.

“Why is it called Breaking Net?”

Serafina asked.

Dante didn’t answer.

He only smiled.

“Look closer.”

Serafina frowned and stepped forward.

She adjusted the angle of the spotlight.

When the light shifted, dark green vines slowly emerged from beneath the roses.

They wrapped around the flowers.

Hidden branches stretched through the gaps.

A trapped beauty.

A struggle for freedom.

Dante looked at her with admiration.

“It seems choosing you for Arturo’s exhibition was the right decision.”

Before Serafina could answer, a cold voice suddenly cut through the quiet room.

“Serafina?”

Augusto’s footsteps stopped for the briefest moment when he saw Serafina.

His eyes locked onto her.

Only one day had passed, yet she looked different.

Thinner.

More fragile.

The exhaustion on her face was impossible to hide. Even the careful makeup she wore couldn’t completely cover the weariness in her eyes.

Serafina was equally surprised.

She had never expected to see Augusto here, inside this quiet gallery belonging to the Ricci Family.

“What are you doing here?”

Augusto walked toward her, his voice low and demanding.

Serafina’s expression remained calm.

“What does that have to do with you?”

She stepped back, deliberately creating distance between them.

Her eyes were no longer filled with dependence or affection.

They were cold.

Strange.

That unfamiliar gaze pierced straight through Augusto’s chest.

Before he could speak, Dante moved.

He stepped between them, blocking Augusto’s path.

“Apologies, Don Marchetti.”

His tone was polite, but his meaning was clear.

“The gallery is closed. We are no longer accepting visitors tonight.”

The atmosphere instantly became tense.

Ceciliana’s smile faded slightly.

She placed a hand against her collarbone before gently holding Augusto’s arm.

“Weren’t we here to discuss the touring exhibition?”

Augusto’s jaw tightened.

He forced himself to look away from Serafina.

“Hmm.”

Ceciliana lifted her chin.

Her confidence returned.

“Signor Ricci, I heard Arturo is preparing a tour across the Old World.”

“The Montanari Family would be honored to participate in the curation.”

Dante glanced at Serafina.

“The curator has already been chosen.”

“Miss Colombo’s understanding of Arturo’s work perfectly matches his vision.”

Augusto’s expression changed instantly.

His hands clenched at his sides.

“When was this decided?”

“Just now.”

Dante answered casually.

A faint smile appeared in his eyes.

Augusto forced himself to remain calm.

He cleared his throat.

“Serafina has never managed an exhibition overseas.”

“Giving her responsibility for a tour of the Old World may be too much.”

“It would be better to choose an experienced team familiar with that environment.”

Ceciliana covered her lips and laughed softly.

“Isn’t Serafina the one who just left her previous position?”

“An independent curator leading such an important exhibition abroad…”

She shook her head.

“Sometimes talent isn’t the only thing that matters.”

“Connections and protection can make a much bigger difference.”

Dante ignored the hidden insult.

“True ability has nothing to do with background.”

“I trust Miss Colombo completely.”

Then he took out a document from his jacket and handed it directly to Serafina.

“Come to Beaumont.”

“Arturo personally approved your interpretation.”

“He named you as the person responsible for this tour.”

Serafina froze.

Dante continued.

“From now on, you will oversee the entire arrangement.”

Then his gaze shifted toward Ceciliana.

More specifically, toward the bracelet on her wrist.

“As expected of something unique.”

“The Montanari matriarch truly treasures her daughter.”

“Even the engraving says ‘to my love.’”

“A gift like this is impossible to replace.”

Ceciliana’s fingers trembled slightly.

She quickly hid her hand behind her back.

Her smile remained perfect.

Almost.

“It’s just a simple bracelet.”

“You’re exaggerating.”

But the slight stiffness in her expression revealed the truth.

Serafina lowered her eyes.

Then, without hesitation, she signed the agreement.

She handed it back to Dante.

The moment Augusto saw that, his expression darkened.

He slowly took out a sterilizing wipe.

One motion.

Then another.

He carefully cleaned his hands before reaching toward her.

He grabbed her wrist.

“Come home with me.”

Serafina immediately struggled.

“Let go.”

She forcefully pulled her hand away.

“Don Marchetti, have some dignity.”

“Serafina.”

Augusto’s fingers tightened.

His knuckles turned white.

“Stop making this into a scene.”

“Do you really need to embarrass me in front of everyone?”

Dante’s voice turned cold.

“Take your hand off Miss Colombo.”

“You’re making her uncomfortable.”

Augusto’s eyes sharpened.

“This is between me and her.”

“It has nothing to do with you.”

But Dante stepped forward.

He grabbed Augusto’s arm and pulled him aside.

His voice lowered.

“Don’t forget, Augusto.”

“If I had returned sooner, I would be the one standing beside her now.”

His thumb brushed over the old scar on his forearm.

A trace of guilt flashed through Augusto’s eyes.

But he still refused to let go.

“You made your choice.”

“So who is responsible for that?”

The tension between them reached its peak.

Then suddenly, Serafina’s heel snapped.

Her body lost balance.

She fell forward.

Dante reacted immediately.

He caught her before she hit the ground.

At the same moment, his thumb stopped against the scar on his wrist.

“Let go of her!”

Augusto’s voice turned harsh.

But before anything else could happen, Ceciliana suddenly gasped.

“Ah…”

She raised a hand to her forehead.

Her body swayed.

“I feel dizzy…”

Augusto turned instantly.

Without hesitation, he released Serafina.

He rushed toward Ceciliana and caught her.

“What happened?”

Meanwhile, Dante kept one hand steady around Serafina’s arm.

“Are you hurt?”

Serafina shook her head.

“Thank you.”

She quietly removed her broken heels and held them in her hand.

Augusto supported Ceciliana while looking back at her.

His voice was cold.

“Come with me now.”

“I’ll pretend nothing happened.”

“But if you refuse…”

His eyes darkened.

“Then we are truly finished.”

Every word cut into Serafina.

But she forced herself to stand straight.

She lifted her chin.

“We were already finished.”

“There is nothing left between us.”

She looked at Ceciliana.

“Go take care of Miss Montanari.”

Ceciliana tightened her grip on Augusto’s sleeve.

“Augusto…”

Her voice was soft and weak.

“I’m tired.”

“Take me home.”

Augusto immediately nodded.

The tenderness in his expression was something Serafina had never received.

Not even once.

Before leaving, he looked back at her.

His gaze was sharp.

Almost threatening.

“Don’t regret this.”

Then he walked away with Ceciliana.

Only after their figures disappeared did Serafina finally release the breath she had been holding.

All her strength seemed to leave her body.

“Are you all right?”

Dante’s voice came gently.

Serafina forced a small smile.

“I’m fine.”

“I guess today just wasn’t a good day for heels.”

“Wait here.”

Dante turned and left.

A few minutes later, he returned with a shoebox.

“I noticed your shoes were hurting you earlier.”

“So I found something more comfortable.”

He opened the box.

A pair of simple flat shoes rested inside.

Without hesitation, Dante crouched down.

“I’ll help you put them on.”

Serafina’s face immediately turned warm.

She stepped back.

“No need.”

“I can do it myself.”

Dante didn’t insist.

He only extended his arm.

“Then let me help you stand.”

Serafina hesitated.

Then she lightly held onto him.

She changed into the flat shoes.

The soft soles wrapped around her feet perfectly.

For the first time in a long while, she felt comfortable.

Safe.

“They fit?”

Dante asked.

Serafina lowered her eyes.

“They’re perfect.”

“Thank you.”

Warm tears suddenly slipped down her cheeks.

She was crying.

Because of a pair of shoes.

But she knew why.

She remembered the old Serafina.

The girl mocked by Augusto’s men because she was too short to keep up with his pace.

The girl who always followed behind him.

The girl who smiled at gifts she didn’t like just because she wanted peace.

The girl who once fought against every injustice without fear.

The girl who ran barefoot through the grass.

The girl who loved anything bright and beautiful.

That was who she used to be.

The real Serafina.

Only now did she understand how much Augusto had changed her.

He had slowly erased her boundaries.

Broken down her pride.

Then rebuilt her into the person he wanted.

A woman who depended on him.

A woman who forgot how to breathe without him.

A woman trapped in endless sadness.

But now…

A small sense of relief appeared in her heart.

At least she had found herself again before it was too late.

“The work here is finished.”

Dante turned away.

“Go home and rest.”

He walked ahead.

Quietly.

Protecting her from behind.

Protecting the fragile part of her that she had finally begun to reclaim.

When the news came from the Ricci art division that she had been selected, Serafina pressed her phone against her chest, unable to believe what she had just heard.

The opportunity to work with Arturo’s collection, the artist she had admired for years, and to oversee his works as they traveled through the Old World, felt almost unreal.

For the first time in a long while, she felt like she was standing beneath sunlight again.

But before she could fully enjoy that feeling, a cold message appeared on her screen.

[Take your belongings before 8 a.m. tomorrow. I won’t wait after that.]

The words struck her harder than she expected.

Serafina leaned against the window of the bus, staring at the message.

Her finger hovered over the screen.

There was only one person in the entire city who would still be able to send her messages after she had blocked every possible way of contacting her.

Augusto.

No one else had that kind of arrogance.

Without hesitation, she replied.

[Throw them away.]

After sending it, her chest tightened.

The air around her felt heavy.

Bitter.

She got off the bus one stop earlier than planned.

She needed to walk.

She needed the cold air to clear the chaos inside her.

But as she moved through the quiet streets, she slowly noticed something.

Footsteps behind her.

Soft.

Careful.

Yet impossible to ignore.

Serafina stopped suddenly and turned around.

The alley behind her was empty.

Only a stray cat slipped past the corner, disappearing into the darkness.

She stood there for a moment before continuing.

When the familiar light of her father’s storefront finally appeared ahead, she quietly released a breath of relief.

But before she could reach the door, a hand suddenly grabbed her and pulled her into the shadows.

“Did Dante tell you anything?”

Augusto’s hands locked around her shoulders.

His grip was so tight it hurt.

It felt as if he wanted to crush every bit of distance between them.

Serafina frowned in confusion.

“What are you talking about?”

The pain made her instinctively struggle.

“Are you crazy?”

Augusto stared at her face.

He searched for any sign that she was lying.

But when he realized she truly knew nothing, the tension in his expression slowly eased.

Without saying anything, he reached inside his coat.

He took out a small bottle.

A drop of sterilizing alcohol fell onto his hands.

Slowly.

Carefully.

He wiped the exact places where he had touched her.

As if he needed to erase the trace of her skin.

Serafina watched silently.

Her heart felt colder than before.

“The Arturo exhibition.”

Augusto’s voice remained firm.

“Don’t accept it.”

“I’ll pay whatever compensation is required for breaking the agreement.”

Serafina looked at him.

“Why?”

Her voice was quiet.

“Why should I?”

“Your body has only just recovered.”

“You’re not ready for something this exhausting.”

Augusto paused.

“Ceciliana is more suitable.”

For a moment, Serafina couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

Was he pretending to worry about her?

Or was he simply clearing the way for Ceciliana to take another thing that belonged to her?

The anger in her chest burned.

“Let me make this clear one last time.”

“We are over.”

“You have no right to decide my future anymore.”

Augusto’s expression changed.

He had always been able to push her to the edge with a single sentence.

But this time, she didn’t break.

Instead, she looked at him with disappointment.

“Why did you suddenly leave me?”

His fingers tightened around her shoulders again.

“It can’t only be because I asked you to clean yourself before bed.”

“I did that because I cared about you.”

The memory returned instantly.

The cold water.

The sharp smell of disinfectant.

The blood.

The fear.

The moment she called him and waited for him to save her.

Serafina’s eyes reddened.

She interrupted him.

“Do you know that I almost died that day?”

“In that disinfectant you claimed was for my own good?”

“I was lying there waiting for you.”

“Calling you.”

“Begging you.”

“And where were you?”

Augusto’s expression froze.

A trace of guilt crossed his eyes.

For the first time, he couldn’t answer.

Serafina looked at him.

“Do you still not understand?”

Her voice trembled, not because she wanted to forgive him.

Because she was exhausted.

“You were always selfish.”

“You never saw me as a person.”

“You saw me as something that belonged to you.”

“Someone who would always wait.”

“Someone who would always forgive.”

She swallowed the pain in her throat.

“But what I achieved was never yours to control.”

“Just like now.”

“You make decisions.”

“You give orders.”

“But you never once ask what I want.”

Augusto’s face slowly changed.

“You never loved me the way I needed.”

“You only loved being loved by me.”

“That’s why you believed you could hurt me over and over again.”

“Your concern was never about me.”

“It was just an excuse to take away everything Ceciliana wanted.”

Her eyes filled with tears.

“I once thought all of this was worth enduring.”

“Because I loved you.”

“But now…”

She looked directly at him.

“I don’t love you anymore.”

“And without that…”

“You mean nothing to me.”

The words landed like a blade.

Augusto stood frozen.

He could accept anger.

He could accept her crying.

He could accept her accusing him.

But he never imagined Serafina would look at him with such absolute determination.

“You were the one who came to me first.”

His voice became unstable.

“You were the one who said you would never leave.”

“And now you think you can just walk away?”

His eyes turned red.

His hands tightened around her shoulders.

He was losing control.

Serafina felt tears gathering in her eyes.

Yes.

She had loved him first.

Yes.

She had once promised she would stay forever.

But that promise was never permission for him to destroy her.

She pushed him away.

He didn’t move.

So she bit down hard on his arm.

Augusto hissed from the pain.

But he still refused to release her.

He pulled her closer.

His voice broke.

“I’m sorry.”

“I was wrong.”

“Please forgive me.”

“I swear I won’t hurt you again.”

Tears streamed down Serafina’s face.

But this time, she did not surrender.

She stepped back.

She forced herself free from his hands.

“You still don’t understand what you did wrong.”

“You’re not afraid of hurting me.”

“You’re afraid of losing control.”

“You’re afraid of losing someone who used to obey everything you said.”

She stared into his eyes.

“The moment you chose Ceciliana…”

“Was the moment everything between us ended.”

Augusto’s pupils trembled.

Those words finally broke through the wall he had built around himself.

His grip loosened for a second.

Only a second.

But it was enough.

Serafina moved.

Her knee struck him hard.

Augusto bent forward from the pain.

She immediately pulled away.

Behind her, his broken voice called her name.

Again.

Again.

But she never turned around.

She only ran.

Farther.

Faster.

Toward a life where she no longer belonged to anyone but herself.