Sienna POV:

I stared at the red-haired woman. The words she just spoke hung in the sterile air, heavy and sharp. I didn't know her, but the raw devastation in her voice felt genuine.

I frowned, ignoring the throbbing pain in my ribs. "Explain. Tell me exactly what you mean."

The woman—Julia, I assumed, though I didn't know how I knew that—pulled a plastic visitor's chair to the side of the bed. She sat down heavily, wiping her wet cheeks with the back of her leather sleeve. She glanced nervously at the door, ensuring the bodyguard outside wasn't looking in. She carried the cautious, paranoid energy of someone who lived her entire life under surveillance.

She took a deep, shaky breath. "The man outside. His name is Dante. He is your fiancé."

I let out a short, cold laugh. "My fiancé? My taste in men couldn't possibly be that bad."

Julia shook her head, a bitter, sad smile touching her lips. "For the last seven years, you practically gave up your entire soul for him."

A sudden wave of physical nausea hit my stomach. The idea of being subservient to the violent thug outside made my skin crawl. I pushed my palms against the mattress, trying to force myself into a sitting position.

"Hey, don't move," Julia panicked, jumping up to support my back. She carefully arranged the pillows behind me, avoiding my wrapped ribs.

I settled back, breathing heavily. I looked down at my hands resting on my lap. These hands felt like they should be holding a drafting pencil or a paintbrush.

Instead, I noticed the skin. The backs of my hands and my knuckles were covered in faint, pale scars. Tiny burn marks. Small, faded slices from kitchen knives. They were the hands of someone who spent hours standing over a hot stove, or burning herself on an iron to make sure a custom suit was perfectly pressed.

I rubbed my thumb over a burn scar on my left wrist. "What exactly have I been doing for the last seven years?"

Julia bit her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. "You walked away from a master's degree in architecture at Cornell. You dropped everything just to be the perfect hostess for the Moretti family."

I sucked in a sharp breath of cold air. I looked at the scars again. "I was an absolute idiot."

Julia reached out and gently grabbed my hand. Her voice dropped to a frantic whisper. "Sienna, listen to me. The night of the car crash."

My eyes narrowed. "What about it? Give me the details."

"An oncoming truck lost control and swerved into your lane," Julia said, her voice shaking with residual terror. "In that split second, Dante unbuckled his seatbelt."

My chest tightened slightly. My logical brain assumed he unbuckled to shield me. To protect his supposed fiancée.

Julia shattered that logic in a second. "He threw himself into the backseat. To cover Valeria."

I froze. "Who the hell is Valeria?"

Disgust flashed in Julia's red-rimmed eyes. "The widow of one of his men who died in combat. Dante feels responsible for her."

I stared at the white blanket covering my legs. The sheer absurdity of the situation washed over me. My fiancé, in the exact moment of a life-or-death impact, chose to protect another woman.

"The car rolled," Julia continued, her tears falling onto my hospital gown. "It caught fire. Dante kicked the door open. He carried Valeria out of the wreckage."

I closed my eyes. A sudden, violent flash of orange fire burned behind my eyelids. The suffocating, toxic smell of burning rubber and melting plastic filled my nose. I heard the crunch of metal.

My eyes snapped open. I was panting, my chest rising and falling rapidly.

"If a passing truck driver hadn't smashed your window with a fire extinguisher and dragged you out, you would have burned alive in that passenger seat," Julia cried.

I lifted my scarred hand and pressed it flat against my chest. I waited for the heartbreak. I waited for the crushing devastation of a woman who had just realized her lover left her to die.

There was no heartbreak. There was only a cold, calculating anger.

I lifted my chin. My vision was crystal clear. The fog of the amnesia didn't matter anymore. I knew exactly what kind of situation I was in.

I looked over at the small bedside table. A smartphone sat next to a plastic water cup. The screen was severely cracked, resembling a spiderweb, but the casing was intact.

I pointed at it. "Give me the phone."

Julia hesitated, looking from the phone to my face. "Sienna, you don't need to—"

"Bring it to me," I commanded. My voice was low, but it held no room for argument.

Julia swallowed hard and handed the device over.

I took the heavy phone in my hand. I stared at the shattered black screen, seeing the pale, bruised reflection of my own face in the glass. I pressed the power button on the side.

"Let me see exactly how stupid I was."

Sienna POV:

The cracked screen flared to life, casting a harsh blue glow over my pale face. A prompt appeared, demanding a six-digit passcode.

I hovered my thumb over the shattered glass. My mind was completely blank. I didn't know my own birthday, let alone a random string of numbers.

Julia let out a long, pathetic sigh from the chair beside me. She leaned in and quietly recited Dante's birthdate.

I rolled my eyes so hard it physically hurt. Of course. Because my entire pathetic existence revolved around him. I punched in the numbers. The phone unlocked with a soft click.

The home screen loaded, and a wave of pure, physical revulsion hit me. The wallpaper was a candid, close-up photo of Dante sleeping. His dark hair was messy against a white pillow, his sharp jawline relaxed.

I grimaced, my stomach turning. I immediately opened the settings, navigated to the display options, and changed the wallpaper to a solid, pitch-black background.

Breathing a little easier, I tapped the photo gallery icon. The number at the top of the screen mocked me: over three thousand photos.

I started scrolling rapidly. Picture after picture. Dante sitting at his desk. Dante's back as he walked away. Close-ups of Dante's silk ties. Pictures of his half-empty coffee cups.

I kept swiping, searching for myself. I couldn't find a single selfie. I couldn't find a single picture of me smiling, or doing anything that didn't involve serving him. I was a ghost in my own phone, a mere accessory to his life.

I closed the gallery and opened the Notes app.

The very first note was pinned to the top. The title was written in bold: *Dante's Absolute Taboos*.

I tapped it. A massive, meticulously detailed list appeared. *No cilantro in anything. Shirts must be hand-washed only and scented with cedarwood. Never, ever ask about his daily schedule.*

I let out a harsh, mocking laugh. "Was I his fiancée, or his senior in-home nurse?"

Julia looked down at her boots, refusing to meet my eyes. Her silence was a loud confirmation.

I kept scrolling down the notes. My finger stopped over a title that made my blood run cold: *Valeria's Preferences*.

I opened it. It was a detailed guide on how to pick birthday gifts for the other woman. It listed her favorite flowers, her clothing size, and a strict list of conversation topics to avoid so I wouldn't "upset her delicate nerves."

My fingers started to tremble. This wasn't the trembling of a broken heart. This was pure, unadulterated rage. I was angry at myself. I was furious at the woman who had allowed herself to be stripped of all dignity.

I closed the notes and opened the messaging app.

The pinned conversation at the top was with Dante. I opened the chat log.

The screen was a wall of green text bubbles. Paragraphs of me asking if he ate, telling him to drive safe, begging him to come home early.

His replies were scattered gray bubbles. *Yeah. Busy. Stop bothering me.*

I scrolled to the very bottom. The last message was sent two hours before the crash. *Honey, will you come to the wedding dress fitting tonight?*

There was no reply. I stared at that pathetic green bubble until my eyes burned. It was the most pathetic thing I had ever seen.

I took a deep, steadying breath. I closed the messaging app and went back to the home screen.

Without a single second of hesitation, I opened the photo gallery again. I tapped the 'Select' button in the top right corner.

I dragged my finger down the shattered glass, selecting every single one of the three thousand photos of his face, his suits, his life.

Julia gasped, leaning forward. "Sienna, are you sure you want to do that?"

My eyes were dead. I pressed the trash can icon. A prompt asked me to confirm. I hit delete. Then I went into the 'Recently Deleted' folder and emptied that too.

Next, I opened the Notes app. I swiped left on the taboos. Deleted. I swiped left on Valeria's preferences. Deleted.

Finally, I opened the messaging app. I swiped left on Dante's pinned contact. I hit block, and then I hit delete.

I stared at the phone. It was completely empty. A clean, blank slate. I tossed the heavy device onto the bedside table. It landed with a plastic clatter.

"Seven years of garbage, cleared in one second."

Sienna POV:

A sudden, violent commotion erupted in the hallway outside.

Dante had clearly lost whatever thin shred of patience he possessed. He kicked the heavy metal door frame with his leather shoe.

The thick soundproof glass absorbed the noise, but the physical force of the kick sent a visible shudder through the entire wall. The blinds rattled against the glass.

Julia jumped in her chair, her shoulders shrinking inward like a frightened animal. She stared at the door in terror.

I slowly lifted my eyes. Through the narrow slats of the blinds, I met Dante's gaze.

His dark, pitch-black eyes were locked onto me. There was no relief in his expression. There was no joy that the woman he was supposed to marry had woken up from a near-fatal crash. There was only the arrogant, high-handed scrutiny of a master annoyed that his pet was causing a scene. He expected me to be crying for him.

I stared back at him without blinking. My eyes were completely flat, studying him with the detached indifference of looking at a corpse on a metal table.

Dante's dark eyebrows snapped together. He visibly flinched, stung by the absolute lack of worship in my eyes.

I broke the eye contact first, turning my head to look at Julia. I needed to focus on logistics.

"The wedding," I said, my voice eerily calm. "It's scheduled for next month. Have the invitations already been sent out?"

Julia blinked, completely thrown off by the sudden shift in topic. She stuttered, "Y-yes. Every politician, businessman, and mob boss in Chicago has received one."

I nodded slowly, processing the information. "Good. The wedding proceeds as planned."

Julia shot up from her chair, her eyes wide with absolute shock. "Are you insane? He left you to burn in a car! He almost killed you!"

I held up my hand, silencing her. My brain was working with surgical precision. "The Moretti family cannot afford the humiliation of a canceled wedding. If I call it off now, it will trigger a power struggle within the Chicago syndicate. I will be the target of the fallout."

Julia clenched her fists, her face turning red. "I would rather watch the family go to war than watch you marry that piece of trash!"

A slow, chilling smile touched the corners of my mouth. "Who said I was going to marry him?"

Julia stared at me, thoroughly confused. "Then what are you doing?"

"The wedding is a bargaining chip," I explained coldly. "I need time. I need to use this period to take back everything that belongs to me before I disappear."

I looked down at my left hand. The clear plastic IV tube was taped to my skin, restricting my movement. It felt like a leash.

I reached over with my right hand and pinched the plastic base of the needle.

Julia gasped, taking a step forward. "What are you doing?"

I didn't answer. I ripped the medical tape off my skin and yanked the thick needle straight out of my vein.

A sharp sting bit into my hand. Several thick drops of dark red blood instantly bloomed onto the pristine white hospital sheets. The contrast was stark and violent.

I pressed my thumb hard against the puncture wound to stop the bleeding. With my other hand, I threw the heavy blanket off my legs. I gritted my teeth against the screaming pain in my broken ribs and swung my legs over the edge of the mattress.

My bare feet hit the freezing hospital floor. My knees buckled slightly from the weakness of lying in bed for days.

Julia rushed forward, grabbing my arm to keep me upright. Tears were welling in her eyes again. "Sienna, please, you are too weak."

I shoved her hand away. I took a deep, jagged breath and forced my spine to straighten. I would not let him see me slouch.

I grabbed the heavy wool coat draped over the foot of the bed and pulled it over my thin, embarrassing hospital gown. It covered my fragile frame like armor.

I took a step toward the door. Then another. Every single step felt like walking on broken glass, draining my limited energy, but my posture was relentless.

Outside the glass, Dante saw me moving. He stopped pacing. His eyes darkened into a deep, unreadable abyss.

I reached the door and wrapped my hand around the freezing metal handle.

I pressed the handle down. "It is time to meet my wonderful fiancé."