Dante wouldn't let me leave.

Not yet.

He blocked the door to my room, his broad frame filling the archway like a barricade.

"Please," he said.

His voice was desperate, stripped of the imperious command that usually defined him.

"Just one night. The high school reunion. We RSVP'd months ago. Everyone expects us."

I looked at him coolly while I continued packing my bag.

"You want to play pretend?" I asked.

"I want to remember," he said, stepping closer. "I want you to remember who we were before... before this mess."

This mess.

He spoke of his infidelity and cruelty like it was nothing more than a spilled glass of wine.

"If I go, will you sign the papers?" I asked.

He hesitated.

His jaw tightened.

"Yes."

He was lying.

I knew he was lying.

But I needed him distracted while I finalized the transfer of my assets.

"Fine."

We went to the reunion.

It was held in the gymnasium of our old private school, which had been transformed with silk drapes and crystal chandeliers to mask the scent of floor wax and teenage angst.

People stared.

They whispered.

They saw the Don and his wife.

They didn't see the wreckage beneath the smile.

Dante was attentive.

He brought me punch.

He held my chair.

He touched the small of my back with a reverence that made my skin crawl because it was a performance.

Then came the time capsule.

The principal announced it, dragging a dusty metal box onto the stage.

We had buried it ten years ago.

Dante opened his envelope first.

He laughed, pulling out a photo of his first car.

Then he handed me mine.

It was a letter.

The handwriting was jagged, aggressive.

It was from sixteen-year-old Dante to his future self.

I unfolded it, the paper brittle with age.

Dante leaned over my shoulder, reading along.

To the man who has Serena,

The letter began.

If you are reading this, you are the luckiest bastard alive. She is the sun. She is the only good thing in your violent life.

I felt Dante stiffen beside me.

I read on.

Protect her. Worship her. And if you ever hurt her... if you ever make her cry... then you are not a man. You are a monster. If you break her heart, let her go. Never forgive yourself.

The paper trembled in my hands.

I looked up at him.

His eyes were wet.

He was reading the condemnation of his younger, purer self.

"Dante..." I whispered.

He grabbed my hand, squeezing it tight.

"Serena, I can fix this. I swear. The boy who wrote that... he's still in here."

His phone buzzed.

The special ringtone.

He froze.

He didn't answer it.

It rang again.

And again.

"Answer it," I said.

"It's Mia," he muttered.

"Answer it."

He picked up.

He listened for a second.

His face went pale.

"I have to go," he said, his voice shaking. "She's bleeding. It might be a miscarriage."

He looked at me, torn between the woman he loved and the duty he had shackled himself to.

"Go," I said.

"I'll come back for you. Wait for me here."

He ran.

He ran out of the gymnasium, leaving me standing alone in the middle of our past.

I looked at the letter one last time.

If you break her heart, let her go.

"I will listen to you, Dante," I whispered to the boy who didn't exist anymore.

I dropped the letter into the trash can by the exit.

I didn't wait.

I walked out the back door.

I took a taxi to JFK.

I dropped my SIM card into a sewer grate outside the terminal.

I boarded a commercial flight to Seattle, sitting in economy, squeezed between a crying baby and a sleeping tourist.

As the plane lifted off, watching the lights of New York fade into the darkness, I didn't cry.

I exhaled.

Dante Vitiello POV:

The sterile air of the hospital room reeked of antiseptic and deceit.

Mia lay in the center of the bed, swallowed by the white linens, appearing fragile and translucent.

The doctor had already delivered the verdict: a false alarm. Again. Just stress.

I stood by the window, my back to her, staring out at the parking lot where my reflection ghosted against the glass-a hollow man haunting his own life.

I had left Serena at the reunion.

I had left her standing there, clutching my letter like a lifeline, her eyes full of a sorrow that weighed more than the ocean.

A cold knot of panic tightened behind my ribs.

I needed to go back.

"Dante?" Mia whispered.

I turned.

She was reaching for me, her hand trembling with a practiced frailty.

"Come hold me. I was so scared. I thought we lost him."

I looked at her.

I stripped away the history, the duty, and really looked at her.

I saw the flicker of calculation in her eyes.

I saw the way her gaze darted to her manicure even as she feigned a sob.

I felt nothing.

No protectiveness. No duty.

Just a cold, heavy disgust settling in my gut like lead.

"I'm leaving," I said, my voice flat.

"But you just got here! You have to stay with me tonight. What if something happens?"

"The nurses are here," I said.

I walked to the door, my stride lengthening.

"Dante! If you leave, I'll scream. I'll tell Nonna you stressed me out!"

"Do it," I said.

I didn't care about Nonna.

I didn't care about the heir.

I just wanted my wife. My real wife.

I walked out of the room, letting the heavy door sever her shrill cries.

I drove back to the school like a madman, tires screeching as I blew through red lights, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs.

The gym was empty.

The music had died, leaving only a cavernous silence.

The janitors were sweeping up the sad remnants of confetti.

"Excuse me." I grabbed a man by the arm, perhaps too roughly. "The woman... my wife. Where is she?"

"The lady in the blue dress? She left hours ago, man. Took a cab."

I drove home.

The mansion was dark, looming against the night sky like a tomb.

I took the stairs two at a time, desperation fueling my ascent.

"Serena!" I roared.

Silence answered me.

I threw open the bedroom door.

The closet was open.

Her clothes were there. The expensive gowns, the furs, the shoes I had bought her-trophies of a cage she never asked for.

But her go-bag... the old duffel she used for charity runs... was gone.

I went to the bathroom.

On the counter, next to her toothbrush, sat her wedding ring.

The diamond caught the moonlight.

It looked cold.

Abandoned.

My phone jarred the silence.

It was the private investigator I had hired to watch Mr. Gu, the rival underboss who had been encroaching on our territory.

"Boss, you need to hear this," the PI said, his tone lacking its usual professional detachment.

"Not now," I snapped, my eyes locked on the abandoned ring. "My wife is missing."

"It's about Mia, Boss. And Gu."

I paused.

"What?"

"I tapped the phone of Gu's mistress. She just got a call from Mia Russo."

"Play it."

The recording crackled to life.

Mia's voice. Frantic. Angry.

"He's leaving me, Gu! He walked out. He doesn't care about the baby. I need the money now. The two hundred million. Or I tell him everything."

Gu's voice, smooth and oily.

"Calm down, sweetheart. You have the Vitiello heir in your belly. You are the golden goose."

"It's not a Vitiello heir!" Mia screamed on the recording, her voice distorted by static but the words crystal clear. "It's yours, you idiot! And if Dante finds out before I get my payout, he will skin us both alive."

The phone slipped from my hand.

It hit the carpet with a dull thud.

The world tilted on its axis.

The baby.

My duty.

The reason I had broken my wife.

The reason I had destroyed the only good thing in my life.

It was a lie.

All of it.

A roar built in my throat, a primal sound of rage and agony that tore through the empty house.

The Dragon had been asleep.

But now... now he was awake.

And he was starving for blood.

Dante Vitiello POV

I didn't kill her immediately.

A bullet would have been too easy. A mercy she didn't deserve.

I needed to see the performance through to the end.

I sat shadowed in the VIP box at the underground auction house, the same wretched place where I had bought the sapphire necklace for Mia weeks ago.

The same place where I had cruelly cast Serena aside.

The memory hit me with the force of a physical blow, a phantom ache radiating through my chest that no amount of whiskey could numb.

Nonna sat beside me.

She was giddy, practically vibrating with excitement.

Today, there was a rare item up for bid: a "Long Life Lock" from the Qing Dynasty, made of pure gold and blessed by monks.

"We must acquire it for the child, Dante," she said, clutching my arm with frail, desperate strength. "To ensure his health."

I stared at the stage below, my eyes cold.

Mia was down there, ensconced in a private booth near the front.

She wasn't alone.

Mr. Gu was slipping into her booth like a snake sliding into its den.

I had arranged for the security cameras in their booth to feed directly to my tablet.

I watched the screen resting in my lap.

Mia was crying, but her face was twisted with rage, not sorrow.

"Where is the money?" she hissed at Gu.

"Soon," Gu said, reaching out to caress her stomach. "My son will be the heir to the Vitiello empire. We will own them from the inside."

Nonna leaned over to look at the catalog.

"Look, Dante! Item 45. It's beautiful."

I looked at Nonna.

The woman who had slapped Serena.

The woman who had branded my wife barren.

"Do you love the baby, Nonna?" I asked, my voice dangerously quiet.

"Of course! He is our blood."

I handed her the tablet.

"Watch."

She frowned, adjusting her reading glasses.

She watched the screen.

I placed the earbud in her ear so she could hear every word.

"I drugged Dante that night ten years ago, but he passed out before we could do anything," Mia's voice sneered through the audio. "He never touched me. But he's so stupid, he believes anything."

"And the avalanche?" Gu asked.

"Serena didn't poison me. I just wanted her gone. I hope she froze to death."

Nonna's face turned the color of ash.

She gasped, clutching her chest as if her heart were failing.

"No... no..."

She looked at me, her eyes wide with dawning horror.

"Dante... what have we done?"

"We?" I said, my voice devoid of emotion. "No, Nonna. You wanted an heir. I gave you exactly what you asked for. A monster."

I stood up.

I walked to the railing of the balcony.

Below me, the auctioneer was announcing the Long Life Lock.

"Bidding starts at one million."

Mia raised her paddle.

She was spending my money.

She was smiling at Gu, triumphant.

I pulled my gun from its holster.

The sound of the slide racking back echoed through the silent hall like a crack of thunder.

Heads turned.

Mia looked up.

She saw me.

She saw the look on my face.

It wasn't the look of a husband.

It was the look of the Capo dei Capi-the Boss of Bosses.

"Dante?" she faltered.

I aimed.

Not at her.

At the Long Life Lock on the podium.

Bang.

The gold ornament shattered into a thousand useless fragments.

The crowd screamed.

Security guards drew their weapons, but when they saw it was me, they lowered them instantly.

"Bring them to me," I ordered my soldiers, pointing at the booth.

Mia tried to run.

Gu tried to fight.

My men dragged them out, throwing them onto the center stage like sacks of garbage.

I walked down the stairs, slow and steady.

The room parted for me like the Red Sea.

I stepped onto the stage.

Mia was sobbing, crawling toward me.

"Dante, please! He forced me! It's a lie!"

I looked down at her.

I looked at the rosary on her wrist.

My rosary.

"Take it off," I said.

She fumbled with the clasp, her hands shaking so hard she couldn't undo it.

I ripped it from her wrist.

Beads scattered across the floor, mixing with the gold shards of the broken lock.

"Where is she?" I asked.

"Who?" Mia wept.

"My wife."

"She left you!" Mia screamed, her mask finally falling off, revealing the rat beneath. "She's gone, Dante! She hates you! She's never coming back!"

I pistol-whipped Mr. Gu before he could speak.

He collapsed, blood pooling on the stage.

I turned to my Capo.

"Take them to the warehouse," I said. "Keep them alive. I want them to feel every second of what comes next."

I turned and walked out of the auction house.

I walked into the night air.

I pulled my phone out.

I dialed Serena's number.

The number you have dialed is disconnected.

I dialed it again.

And again.

Disconnected.

Gone.

I looked at the city skyline.

It was vast.

It was empty.

"Find her," I whispered to the darkness.

"Burn the whole world down if you have to."

"Just find her."