Dante froze the moment the words left his mouth. When I said nothing, he rushed to explain.

"Serafina, don't misunderstand. Gianna is the only family I have left in this house. I think of her as my own sister. That's why I call her that."

"There is absolutely nothing between us!"

His frantic explanation only made my stomach turn.

I would never forget what I saw in the moments before I died.

Gianna had wept and lied, claiming that my daughter and I had been greedy and eaten cannoli laced with poison by mistake, and that was how we'd died.

Dante hadn't shed a single tear for us. Instead, his face had softened with tenderness as he pulled Gianna into his arms, slipped the clothes from her shoulders, and held her close.

He kissed the tears from her cheeks, murmuring comfort.

"Dead is dead. Even if she hadn't died, I would've had the union annulled in a few days anyway."

"For years now, the only people in my heart have been you and the two children. There's no room for anyone else, and I won't let anyone disturb our life in this house."

From that moment on, everything I'd ever felt for him was gone.

Gianna brought me back out once I'd changed. Dante was crouching in front of Valentina. "Don't you remember your father?"

Valentina stared at him in terror, shrinking back step by step, then ran to me and clung to my leg. Both small fists gripped the fabric of my skirt, but she didn't make a sound.

"She was only a few months old when you left. You didn't come back for five years. How would she possibly remember you?"

Valentina was only five, but with the grime washed from her face, she looked like a little porcelain doll.

Dante scooped her up and tried to coax her. "Be a good girl, Valentina. Say 'Papa.' I'm your papa."

She only found him strange. Her small lips pressed into a thin line as she studied him with wide, cautious eyes.

He hadn't raised her. After a few more attempts with no response, his patience ran out.

"Serafina, you've come and you've been seen. When are you planning to go back?"

I stared at him, stunned. Then I laughed.

"You mean you want me to take our daughter back to that miserable tenement and keep waiting, day after day, for you to come get us?"

Dante's brow furrowed, a shadow of irritation crossing his face.

"I told you, when the time is right I'll bring you both home. The time isn't right yet."

"I know this place looks grand, but there are a lot of people living here. There really isn't a spare room for you and Valentina. Once the guesthouse wing is finished, I'll send for you..."

I cut him off, my voice flat and cold. "Give it up."

"My daughter and I have stripped nearly every scrap of food from that neighborhood. Then the waterfront flooded, and even the dockworkers can't find a meal. We were on the verge of starving to death. I wouldn't take her back to that place if you made me a servant in this house."

It was laughable, really. The Ferrante compound had rooms enough for a small army, crawling with soldiers and household staff.

And Dante claimed he couldn't spare a single room for his own wife and daughter. Did he truly think I was that stupid?

In my last life, I never told him, not even on my deathbed, that my father was Don Enzo Castellano.

I had believed that standing by love meant something. That my devotion proved my worth.

In the end, I was nothing but a joke to them.

Five years rotting in that tenement on the wrong side of the waterfront, and none of it had mattered at all.

Dante's face went white. "What are you talking about? You were scrounging for food? I had money sent to you every month. Enough to live well."

I stared at him. "When did you ever send money?"

"In five years, all I received were your letters every few days. Not a single coin."

Dante whipped around, his eyes locking on Gianna.

Gianna's eyes reddened on cue. "Dear sister-in-law, you don't actually think I'm the one who withheld your allowance, do you?"

"I'll send someone to look into it right now. Whichever wretched little runner skimmed that money and pocketed it will answer for it."

She hurried off with her maid in tow. Half an hour later, she returned and had a scrawny young girl dragged before me, bound at the wrists and trembling so hard her knees knocked together.

"Sister-in-law, it was this worthless thing all along! She stole every dollar Dante sent you, month after month, to pay for her mother's hospital bills. I'll have the boys deal with her right here. Consider it justice served."

"That won't be necessary."

My voice was ice. Even I wasn't foolish enough to miss it. The girl was skin and bone, a scapegoat shoved forward to take the fall.

I turned to carry my daughter toward the private dining room where the Commission banquet was being held, but behind me, Gianna flicked a glance at her children.

In the next instant, her son and daughter charged at us, stones already in their fists, hurling them straight at my head.

"You evil woman! You're trying to steal our daddy! In your dreams!"

"Beat her dead! Don't you dare bully our mommy or take our daddy away!"

Stone after stone flew at us. I twisted to shield Valentina, but one rock caught her square on the forehead. Blood poured down instantly.

Valentina wailed, her small body shaking with sobs. The two brats grinned at the sight and scooped up more stones, throwing harder.

I turned and fixed them with a stare cold enough to freeze marrow. "Do you want to die?"

Both children flinched. They scrambled behind Dante, clutching his collar and whimpering.

"Daddy, that woman said she's going to kill us!"

Dante dropped to his knees at once, pulling them close, murmuring comfort. When he finally looked up at me, his brows were knotted with fury.

"Serafina, are you done making a scene?"

"Since the moment you set foot in this house, you've turned the whole place upside down. Take your daughter and get out of here!"

Valentina's forehead was split open. Blood ran down past her eye, tracing a thin red line along her cheek. Dante didn't spare her a single glance.

He only had arms for the two children in Gianna's brood.

I clenched my jaw so hard my teeth ached, clutched my daughter tight, and charged toward the banquet hall, screaming at the top of my lungs:

"A doctor! Is there a doctor here?!"

Dante's head snapped up. He lunged to stop me.

"Serafina! Who do you think you are, making a scene in front of the Family's physician?! Don't you dare!"

He clamped a hand over my mouth. His men grabbed for Valentina, trying to pry her from my arms and drag her away. She was already gasping between sobs, and now their hands smothered her mouth and nose. Her face went from red to a mottled purple.

I stopped thinking. I sank my teeth into Dante's hand until I tasted blood.

Then I broke free and ran, stumbling into the banquet hall where the Commission's guests sat with their drinks half-raised, locking onto that one familiar figure, and screamed:

"Marco Lombardi! You're the Family's doctor! Save my daughter!"

Marco spun around. His eyes went wide, shock and disbelief tangled together, and then something fierce and bright broke through. Joy. Raw, unguarded joy.

"You're alive?"

He rushed to me. His hands went to his sleeves, rolling them to the forearm with two precise folds, automatic, clinical. On the second fold, his fingers trembled. Then he reached for Valentina, pressing his hands to the wound to stanch the bleeding.

The commotion reached the far end of the room where the head table was set. Rosalia Valenti tilted her head, her gaze drifting down toward the disturbance.

"Who was that woman just now? Her voice sounds so familiar."

Dante stepped forward and bowed low, his answer quick and smooth:

"Donna Valenti, it's nothing. Just a servant from the household. A maid, that's all."

That was when I laughed. A short, cold sound. I pulled the marriage certificate from inside my coat and dropped to my knees.

"Donna Valenti. I am no maid. I am Serafina Castellano, daughter of Don Enzo Castellano. And I am here to beg the Commission's blessing for an annulment of my blood-bound union with Dante Ferrante."