Caspian stared at the blood-soaked bandages on my wrists, horror etched across his face.

The heavy silence in the hotel suite was shattered by a commotion out in the hallway. Hurried footsteps and muffled shouting seeped through the thick wooden door.

"Let me go! I need to see her!" Elena's shrill voice pierced the silence.

Caspian didn't even look toward the sound. He stood up, his jaw clenched, and strode out of the bathroom.

I wrapped a towel around myself and cautiously followed him, stopping at the bedroom doorway.

Caspian yanked the suite door open.

Elena stood in the heavily guarded hallway, struggling against two massive bodyguards, an elderly man with a black medical bag hovering nearby.

She looked past Caspian's broad shoulders, her eyes landing on the blood-stained towel I was clutching tightly.

She gasped, pressing a slender finger against her chest.

"Oh, Sienna, you're bleeding again! I was so worried, I brought the family doctor right away."

Her performance was flawless, yet laced with a sickeningly sweet faux concern.

"Get out, Elena. Go back to your room and rest," Caspian ordered, his massive frame blocking the doorway.

His voice was low and dangerous, rumbling like thunder, leaving no room for argument.

Elena exaggerated a sigh, her shoulders slumping in a show of disappointment.

"I couldn't sleep, Caspian. Sienna slipping by the pool made me feel so guilty I've been awake all night. I just wanted to make sure she was okay."

I looked at the woman who had shoved me into the deep end.

"You don't have to pretend; no one here is applauding your performance."

Elena blinked, feigning innocent surprise, her eyes wide.

"I don't know what you mean. It was a terrible accident."

I crossed my arms, locking eyes with her.

"It's a shame you didn't notice the security cameras installed on the stone pillars by the pool."

Elena froze.

The color instantly drained from her face, leaving her pale and trembling.

I kept my face perfectly blank, giving her nothing.

"They recorded every word you said to me before you pushed me in. Shall we watch the footage together?"

Elena swiftly took a step back, her eyes darting toward the relative safety of the hallway.

"I... I suddenly remembered I have to make a call to my grandfather's associates."

She turned and practically ran down the hall, the doctor awkwardly retreating behind her.

The heavy door clicked shut, plunging us back into silence.

I relished the sudden quiet, refocusing my attention on the man standing in the center of the bathroom.

Caspian hadn't stopped staring at me.

His gaze was heavy, unreadable, locked onto my face as if searching for something I was no longer willing to give.

He grabbed a clean towel from the rack and walked toward me.

He draped the thick fabric over my trembling shoulders, his movements surprisingly gentle.

"Rest for tonight, we'll deal with this tomorrow."

I pulled the towel tighter, building a wall between us.

"Bring the mob lawyers with you, and the annulment papers."

Caspian stopped moving.

He didn't reply, but I heard the faint, abrasive grinding of his teeth—a dry rasp that spoke of a barely contained urge to rip something to shreds.

"If you don't bring them, I'll find my own way to break the oath."

The air in the room grew heavy, as if crushed by his sudden, suffocating rage.

His eyes darkened, flashing with a terrifying possessiveness that made me shiver.

"You are mine, and I will never divorce you." He turned his back and marched stiffly out of the bedroom.

I heard the heavy door click shut, followed by a long, suffocating silence.

I walked over to the nightstand and picked up my phone.

The screen lit up, asking for a passcode.

Without even thinking, I entered Caspian's birthday—the numbers had become muscle memory.

The phone unlocked instantly.

I scoffed at my past self's pathetic devotion.

I went straight into the settings and changed the passcode to my own birthday.

I severed that pathetic little connection I had with him.

A notification popped up at the top of the screen.

It was a short, authoritative text from Caspian.

"Rest well. Wait for me there tomorrow."

I sneered. Why should I listen to him?

I turned the unlocked doorknob and slipped out the hotel's service elevator before the sun was fully up, then took a cab to an upscale Italian café in neutral territory—far from the syndicate's usual haunts.

Luca was already sitting at a corner table.

He stood up when I walked in, his eyes carefully scanning my face as I sat across from him.

"Thank you for pulling me out of the pool last night," I said quietly.

Luca leaned back in his chair, his brow furrowed. "Sienna, you're different today. You haven't looked at me like that in years."

I picked up the menu, avoiding his gaze. "Like what?"

"Like you completely forgot about me."

I put the menu down and met his eyes.

Luca let out a long sigh and leaned forward, resting his arms on the table.

"During our junior year of college, I confessed my feelings to you," he said, his voice tight. "You turned me down."

I was stunned.

I truly didn't remember Luca.

But I couldn't risk exposing my amnesia. If I did, anyone could manipulate me.

"You were completely infatuated with Caspian. To appease his insane jealousy, you cut off all your male friends."

Luca shook his head, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. "To stay near you and make sure you were safe, I had to stoop to being a low-ranking grunt in this dangerous underworld."

I stared at the coffee cup in front of me.

The tragic reality of my past submission hit me like a punch to the gut.

I had isolated myself entirely for a man who wouldn't even save me from drowning.

At that moment, I realized I had to hide my amnesia from Caspian at all costs.

If he knew I had forgotten, he would use it to trap me all over again.

The bell above the café door jingled loudly.

The temperature in the room plummeted the second Caspian walked in.

Flanked by four massive soldiers in dark suits, Elena stood right beside him, her hand resting lightly on his arm.

Caspian's gaze locked onto Luca.

His massive frame radiated a lethal territoriality as he strode toward our table, his very presence terrifying the few civilians in the shop into absolute silence.

Before he could even speak, I stood up.

"We're breaking the oath. Who I see is none of your business."

I raised my voice, making sure every guard heard me publicly denounce his suffocating control.

Caspian didn't even glance at me.

He stared at Luca with murderous intent. "The West Side Port was the price you paid to stay away from my wife."

Luca sneered, leaning back and crossing his arms. "I just wanted to buy her a cup of coffee. Seems you lack confidence in your own charm."

Caspian took a step forward, his hands balling into tight fists.

Feeling a strong surge of disgust, I grabbed my purse from the chair.

Caspian's hand shot out, clamping tightly around my arm.

I looked down at his grip, then pointed at Elena standing a few feet away.

"Give the papers to my lawyer, Caspian. Other than that, we have nothing to talk about."

I yanked my arm hard, but his grip was like a vice.

I raised my voice, ensuring the entire café could hear me. "I'm done playing the supporting role to your shadow mistress."

Shocked, Caspian's grip loosened just enough for me to break free.

I turned my back on the Don and walked out the front door, Luca right by my side.

As the chilly morning wind brushed against my face, I finally understood why the 27-year-old me had wanted to end her life.

Living under the crushing weight of his coldness would break anyone.

I had moved out of the penthouse.

I found a cheap, rundown apartment on the outskirts of the city—a place off the beaten path, far from his territory.

I sat on the lumpy mattress, staring at the peeling wallpaper.

My ringtone shattered the silence.

Caspian's name flashed on the cracked screen.

I answered, my tone completely flat.

"Where are you?"

It wasn't a question; it was a dark, commanding demand.

"Did you sign the lawyer's papers?" I countered.

The line went dead.

He hung up on me.

Three hours later, the flimsy wooden door to my apartment was kicked in.

The cheap wood splintered, the deadbolt shattering and scattering across the faded linoleum floor.

Caspian stepped over the broken threshold and into the cramped living room.

His towering silhouette blocked the dim light from the hallway, casting a long, dark shadow over me.

He scanned the dingy room, his upper lip curling in disgust.

He demanded, "Why is my wife living in a rat hole instead of her rightful home?"

I stood up, crossing my arms over my chest.

"I'm serious, I'm leaving you," I said coldly. "Why are you still holding on to me?"

Caspian closed the distance between us in two long strides.

"I do not want a divorce," he growled. "Saving Elena was an instinct I was trained for since childhood; it wasn't from the heart."

He stepped right into my personal space, looking down at me from above.

The heat radiating from his body washed over my skin.

Refusing to back down, I pressed my hands firmly against his solid, unyielding chest.

"Where are the papers, Caspian?" I demanded.

He ignored my question, staring deeply into my defiant eyes.

He raised his large hands and, with a gentleness that almost hurt, cupped my face.

His voice grew deep and husky, echoing in the quiet room like a command.

"Wife, come home. You belong in my bed."

I let out a harsh, mocking laugh.

His arrogance was astounding.

I grabbed his thick wrists and shoved his hands away from my face.

"We're done," I spat. "I'm sick of the bulletproof glass, the smell of disinfectant, and the gun under your pillow. Get out."

I shoved him toward the broken doorway.

He let me move him, but his dark, tempestuous eyes never left my face.

He finally stepped out into the dim hallway, the tension between us thick enough to cut with a knife.

I slammed the broken door shut as best as I could, leaned against it, and let out a shaky breath.

Later that night, I sat cross-legged on the floor, the glow of my laptop lighting up the dark room.

I was browsing a secure social network, checking on the family's recent activities.

A new photo popped up on my feed.

It was posted by Elena.

It was a carefully framed close-up: a steaming cup of coffee resting quietly on a polished mahogany desk.

Draped casually over the back of the heavy leather chair behind the desk was a custom-tailored black suit jacket.

I instantly recognized it as Caspian's.

It was a subtle, calculated message broadcasted to the entire underworld—hinting at her unshakeable position by his side.

I stared at the bright screen, an icy, hollow sneer forming on my lips.

I clicked the "Like" button on the photo.

Then, I typed out a comment for everyone in the Syndicate to see:

"Long live the Don and his Princess!"

I hit send, watching the text finalize on the screen.

Then, with a decisive click, I permanently blocked Elena's account.

I picked up my phone, opened my contacts, and deleted Caspian's name from the list.

Finally, I blocked the Don's number, severing my final tie to him completely.