He didn't pause, didn't listen. "I'm warning you, don't use the baby to manipulate me. If you want to get rid of it, then do it. Do whatever you want."

Then a soft, fragile voice came from the other end. "Dante, don't be mad at her. She's just worried about you. This is all my fault…"

"Viviana, this isn't your fault…" he replied gently. And then the call ended.

My hand fell weakly to my side. A bitter smile touched my lips, faint and hollow.

Of course. How could I ever compare to his precious Viviana? Holding on any longer would only make me look more pathetic.

But my baby… my child had only needed two more months to come into this world.

The so-called incident at the mall had been about me from the very beginning. It was all because of Dante.

The moment the button man grabbed me, he slapped me hard across the face, twice in quick succession. My head spun, my vision blurring as his voice echoed faintly.

"Your husband couldn't save my wife! Do you even understand that?" he shouted bitterly.

"That so-called surgeon is nothing but a fraud! And I know his Family has money. Snatching you means I can finally get compensation for what he caused!"

When I realized he wanted money, a small sense of relief flickered inside me. At least that meant he wouldn't kill me immediately. At least my baby might still have a chance.

But after eight calls, seven ignored and one filled with nothing but blame, I lost all value in his eyes.

At that moment, I had never been more terrified.

I knelt on the ground, begging desperately, my voice shaking as I pleaded for my child's life.

But my words meant nothing.

The knife on the table was picked up without hesitation. Then it was driven straight into my stomach.

The pain was unbearable, a burning agony that spread through my entire body. Warm blood poured out, soaking everything beneath me.

My baby was gone, just like that.

And yet, only that morning, I had felt tiny kicks inside me, gentle and full of life.

My consciousness began to fade, slipping further and further away. Without my baby, I no longer had the strength to hold on.

I thought I could just let go, let everything end.

But just as I accepted that fate, Adriana broke through the window to reach me.

She glanced at my phone lying on the floor, its screen still faintly lit, and shouted in panic, "Why didn't you answer? If I hadn't come, what would've happened to you? Were you just waiting to die?"

Her hands trembled as she lifted me, trying desperately to call Luca.

But the only response she got was the same cold message: Viviana's in court. Do not disturb.

Those six words left her frozen, disbelief filling her eyes.

She tried calling the police, but the signal was gone. No cell coverage that far from the main road. No matter how many times she tried, it didn't connect.

With no other choice, she dragged me into her car and drove forward along the narrow back road that cut through Falcone timber land, refusing to give up.

But then came the landslide, blocking the road completely.

Perhaps it was fate.

As the rain poured down and the world around me faded into darkness, I slowly closed my eyes and let everything drift away.

Now, Adriana and I lay in the same room in the Family's private clinic, side by side on two narrow beds. The sterile white walls felt cold and distant, and the faint smell of disinfectant lingered in the air. A soldier stood post outside the door. I could see his shadow through the frosted glass, still as a statue, guarding a room no one from the Family had bothered to visit.

Silence filled the room, heavy and suffocating, pressing down on us like an invisible weight. Neither of us spoke at first, as if even breathing too loudly might shatter what little composure we had left.

She must have heard Dante's outburst over the phone earlier. Even in her weakened state, she forced herself to sit up, her movements slow and unsteady.

Reaching out, she gripped my hand tightly. Her fingers were cold, trembling slightly, and her face was pale as tears slipped down silently, falling onto the back of my hand. My thumb rubbed the pale mark where my wedding ring had sat, back and forth, back and forth, while I stared at the ceiling and refused to let the burning behind my eyes become anything more.

"I'm so sorry, Bianca," she whispered, her voice shaking. "I never should have introduced you to Dante. You deserved so much better than this… you still do."

I could see the guilt weighing heavily on her, almost crushing her. But honestly, my heart hurt even more for her than for myself.

She had spent two long years trying to conceive, holding onto hope month after month. And yet, she lost her baby before she even realized she had been pregnant. The cruelty of it all was unbearable.

I was just about to comfort her when her phone suddenly rang. It was her husband, Luca.

The moment she answered, his voice came through, harsh and impatient. "My brother said Bianca is planning to get rid of the baby. Was this your idea?"

His tone only grew sharper as he continued. "Can you two stop acting crazy for once? Didn't I tell you yesterday I was working on Viviana's case? It's important! I told you not to bother me. Are you deaf?"

He didn't pause to listen, didn't give her a chance to speak. "Honestly, I don't even know why I married you. Always causing trouble, always threatening to walk away like it's some kind of joke. If you want out, then go. No one's stopping you."

The call ended abruptly, leaving nothing but a hollow silence behind.

My blood-sworn sister stared at her phone for a moment, her expression blank. Then she shook her head lightly, trying to brush it off, but her eyes reddened uncontrollably. Through the half-open door, I caught the shape of a soldier posted in the corridor, his gaze fixed straight ahead, pretending he hadn't heard a word. That was how things worked in this family. Everyone heard everything. No one acknowledged a thing.

I reached out and took her hand in mine, holding it gently despite how cold it felt. "Don't be sad," I whispered softly. "We're still alive. That's what matters most."

I forced a small smile. "Maybe this is a sign. Maybe it's time for us to let go of everything that's been hurting us."

"Let's rest for now," I continued, my voice steady. "And when we're stronger, we'll walk out together. We'll start over. Deal?"

She choked out a quiet "okay," her voice barely audible. Adriana smoothed the seam of her sleeve flat with two precise strokes, and then, as if something inside her finally broke, she leaned forward and collapsed against my shoulder.

Her sobs came all at once, uncontrollable and raw. I held her tightly as my own tears began to fall. Fear, anger, grief, heartbreak, everything we had been suppressing poured out in that moment.

What we once believed were dream marriages had turned out to be nothing but carefully disguised nightmares.

I couldn't help but remember the early days, when we had just gotten married. We had even shared our story with the wives of other families at a christening dinner, laughing about how "blood-sworn sisters married Falcone brothers," thinking it was something special.

At the time, the other women had raised their glasses, saying things like, "Double the blessing on the Falcone name!" and "You two are living the dream."

Back then, we had believed it too.

But everything began to fall apart six months ago, the moment Viviana Caruso returned from Europe.

After that, Dante was suddenly always "too busy" to answer calls, his phone constantly unreachable. Luca, too, was rarely at the estate, always out at quiet sit-downs, working the old-country circuit, or attending events at the family's hotel fronts.

That was when we slowly realized the truth. This marriage had never been about love.

It was nothing more than Dante and Luca's twisted way of getting close to Viviana again, a carefully planned move in a game that had nothing to do with us. The alliances our families had blessed, the rings exchanged at the altar of St. Cecilia's, all of it had been part of their selfish scheme.

The most painful part was how long Adriana and I had been fooled. We had believed everything. We had trusted them completely.

We had even allowed them to bring Viviana into the Falcone compound, thinking it was only temporary. But instead, we watched them dote on her, giving her everything they had never given us.

Their phones were filled with photos of the three of them together, smiling, laughing, looking like a perfect trio. Those photos were always hidden from our view, carefully concealed.

A Family surgeon and a Consigliere, both respected and feared, yet they revolved entirely around Viviana. Dante suddenly took an interest in obstetrics, just to be closer to her. Luca personally handled her separation case through the Consigliere's front office, going out of his way for her.

Meanwhile, we, their wives, received nothing. Not even a word on Christmas morning. Not a single bouquet of flowers.

They were present physically, but emotionally, they had never been with us at all.

We had ignored the truth for far too long. Either their hearts had already moved on, or perhaps they had never loved us from the beginning.

It took losing two lives for me to finally see it clearly.

Lying in bed at the private clinic the Family kept off the books in Bensonhurst, I tried to distract myself by scrolling through my phone, deliberately avoiding anything that might trigger more pain. The room smelled of antiseptic and cold tile, and somewhere beyond the locked door a soldier sat in a folding chair, flipping through a racing form.

But when I opened TikTok, a video on the trending page immediately caught my attention.

It was Viviana's latest post. She looked radiant, basking in attention, proudly showing off the two men she called her childhood friends. The Falcone name hung over every frame like a halo she had borrowed.

There were three photos. One was a group picture of the three of them together at what looked like a private dinner at Rao's. Another was a legal document. And the last was a close-up of her hands gently cradling her stomach.

Her caption read: [Those who truly care for you will always show up before danger does. Thank you, my dearest friends.]

The comment section was overflowing with admiration. People wrote things like, "Where can I find friends like this?" and "You're so lucky, girl!"

A few users even pointed out, "Aren't those the brothers who married those best friends?"

But those comments were quickly buried under waves of praise, disappearing almost instantly.

Just then, Adriana sent me a screenshot of the post. Her message was short, but steady: [Bianca, I don't know why, but I feel nothing when I look at this.]

Another message followed. [Two husbands for one wife. Since they want it so badly, let's just make it official for them.]

I took a deep breath, my chest rising and falling slowly. My thumb rubbed the pale mark where my wedding ring had sat, slow and deliberate, as though pressing down on a bruise I refused to flinch from.

[You're right. This has nothing to do with us anymore. I'm contacting a family counsel for the separation. I've endured enough.]

The consigliere's front office moved quickly. By the very next day, both of our separation petitions were prepared. I had copies sent directly to Dante and Luca's private email addresses, the ones routed through the legitimate hospital and law firm accounts so the Family servers wouldn't flag them first.

Two days passed. Neither of them responded. Not a single word.

The silence dragged on, heavy and exhausting, wearing down what little patience I had left.

Finally, I messaged Dante again. [Have you seen the papers? Please respond.]

His reply came quickly, but it was nothing more than anger.

[Haven't you caused enough trouble? The more you push, the less I want to come home. Stop trying to test me!]

I stared at the message, stunned by his arrogance. How had I never seen this side of him before?

Dante wasn't the man I thought he was. He was nothing more than a self-centered, arrogant fool. The Underboss, the celebrated surgeon, the man whose word moved soldiers and operating rooms alike. And he couldn't send his wife a single honest sentence.

I was about to reply when I heard a soft, sweet voice in the background. "Dante, what are you doing? Come eat. Luca and I have been waiting for you."

A bitter smile formed on my lips. "No wonder you have no time for us. You're too busy with your precious 'sister,' aren't you?"

"Bianca, what's wrong with you?" he snapped. "I'm just helping out. Viviana is pregnant. Unlike you, she can't even handle being in the kitchen."

The word "pregnant" hit me like a punch to the chest. My composure shattered instantly.

"You care so much about someone else's child," I said, my voice trembling. "What about ours, Dante? Did you ever care about me? Or about your own baby?"

His tone turned cold, dismissive. "This is pointless…"

Then Viviana's voice came again, light and amused. "Bianca, we're both expecting mothers. I understand how it feels. Pregnancy hormones can make you emotional. Not everyone is as lucky as me, but don't be too upset."

Her words cut deep, sharper than any blade.

A sharp pain flared from my wound, and I felt my strength draining away. The clinic room pressed inward, the hum of the fluorescent light overhead suddenly unbearable.

Dante's voice softened instantly, filled with concern. "Don't worry about her. Your health is what matters most, Viviana. Whatever you need, I'll be there."

I struggled to breathe as tears streamed uncontrollably down my face.

In these two years, he had never truly cared for me. Not even once. To him, I was nothing more than a convenient presence, something easily replaced. A name on an alliance that kept the peace between families. A body in the pew at Sunday Mass.

Before I could say anything else, the call ended.

The silence that followed was crushing. I let out a broken sob, unable to hold it in any longer. Beyond the door, the soldier's racing form rustled once, then went still.