Seraphina POV

The drive home was silent.

The partition was up, separating us from the driver, but the distance between us on the leather seat felt like an ocean.

Dante scrolled through his phone, utterly unbothered. He radiated a calm arrogance, the confidence of a man who believed he owned the world and everything in it-including me.

"She provoked me," I said.

I broke the silence because the pressure in my chest was going to kill me if I didn't let some of it out.

"You made a scene," Dante said without looking up. "You are the Donna. You are supposed to be above that."

"She slapped me, Dante."

He finally looked at me. His eyes were dark pools, devoid of light.

"And you slammed her face into a mirror. I think you got your pound of flesh, Seraphina. Let it go."

"Let it go?" I laughed, a harsh, brittle sound. "She is your mistress. Everyone saw her. Everyone knows. Do you have any respect for me at all?"

Dante sighed, rubbing his temples. He looked annoyed, like I was a child complaining about a broken toy.

"Valeria is useful," he said coldly. "She understands the business. She relieves stress. It doesn't mean anything. You are my wife. You carry my name. That should be enough for you."

"It's not enough," I whispered.

"Then make it enough," he snapped.

His hand shot out, grabbing my chin, forcing my gaze to meet his. His grip was hard, bruising.

"You are mine, Seraphina. You exist because I allow it. You live in luxury because I provide it. Don't confuse your position. You are here to look pretty and give me heirs. Do not question how I run my life."

He let go of my face and turned back to the window.

I touched the spot where his fingers had dug in. My skin felt hot.

He didn't see a partner. He didn't see a person. He saw property.

When we got to the penthouse, he went straight to his study. He didn't apologize. He didn't try to comfort me. He simply poured himself a scotch and closed the door.

I retreated to the guest room. I couldn't sleep in our bed. The sheets would smell like him, and tonight, he smelled like her.

I sat on the edge of the bed in the dark. My phone buzzed. It was a text from an unknown number.

He loves me. He's only with you for the politics. Give up, Princess.

Attached was a photo. It was taken inside this penthouse. In my kitchen. Valeria was wearing one of Dante's shirts.

I stared at the image. The time stamp was from two days ago.

While I was visiting my mother's grave, she was in my house, wearing my husband's clothes, drinking from my mugs.

I didn't cry. I was done crying.

I walked to the window and looked out at the city lights. It was a beautiful view. A view worth killing for.

I needed a plan. Matteo was right. I couldn't just run. If I ran, I was prey.

I needed to stop being the prey. I needed to become the hunter.

Seraphina POV

I woke the next morning to the acrid taste of bile rising in my throat.

I barely made it to the bathroom before I emptied my stomach, heaving until there was nothing left but dry, painful spasms.

I sat on the cold tile floor, trembling as I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.

It wasn't the stress. Deep down, I recognized this sensation. My mother had described this specific misery to me often enough.

Dread settled in my chest, heavier than the nausea.

I got dressed and drove myself to a clinic three towns over. I didn't take the main car; I took the old sedan. I paid in cash. I used a fake name.

The doctor was a kind, older woman with gentle hands who didn't ask why I kept my sunglasses on indoors. She ran the tests efficiently.

Ten minutes later, she came back with a warm smile.

"Congratulations," she said, beaming as if she were delivering a gift. "You're six weeks along."

The room spun. The white walls seemed to close in on me.

I was pregnant.

I was carrying the Vitiello-Moretti heir. The Crown Prince. The living treaty that would cement the alliance between our warring families in blood forever.

A month ago, this would have been the happiest news of my life. I would have rushed home to tell Dante. He would have spun me around, kissed my stomach, and treated me like a goddess bearing his legacy.

Now, the thought of his blood mixing with mine made the bile rise again.

I couldn't bring a child into this darkness. I couldn't raise a son to be a monster like his father, or a daughter to be a pawn like her mother.

I walked out of the clinic in a daze. I sat in my car for an hour, my hands gripping the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white.

My phone jarred me from the trance. Dante.

"Where are you?" he asked. No hello. No apology for last night.

"Running errands," I managed to say, my voice sounding hollow to my own ears.

"Be ready in an hour," he commanded. "We are going to the Lake Estate. I have business to attend to there, and I want you with me. It looks better if we are seen together after last night's... incident."

The Lake Estate. It was isolated. Private. Miles away from the city, surrounded by deep woods and dark water. A perfect place to hide a secret. Or a body.

"Okay," I whispered.

I drove back to the city, my mind racing. I stopped at a pharmacy, but I didn't buy vitamins. I bought a burner phone and a prepaid card.

When I got back to the penthouse, silence greeted me-until I heard voices drifting from the study. The door was cracked open.

"I'm telling you, Dante, I can't keep doing this," Valeria's voice whined, high and grating. "She's going to ruin everything."

"She is nothing, Valeria," Dante replied, his tone dismissive. "Stop worrying about her. Focus on what matters."

"What matters? Us? Or the brat she's eventually going to pop out?"

"There is no brat yet," Dante said, his voice terrifyingly calm. "And even if there is, it's just an heir. You, Valeria, are my pleasure."

I stood frozen in the hallway, the air leaving my lungs.

He didn't know I was pregnant. He was already dismissing our child-our flesh and blood-as "just an heir." A tool. A thing.

I touched my flat stomach, my protective instinct flaring hot and fierce.

I made a promise to the tiny cluster of cells inside me.

I will not let him have you.

I went to our bedroom and pulled out a travel bag. I didn't pack for a weekend trip.

I packed my jewelry-the pieces that were mine, not gifts from him. I packed the cash I had sewn into the lining of my winter coats. I packed the burner phone.

I wasn't going to the Lake Estate to play the happy, obedient wife.

I was going there to end this.

Seraphina POV

The drive to the Lake Estate was suffocating. Above us, the sky was a bruised gray, hanging low and leaden over the highway.

Dante navigated the Maserati with a terrifying ease, one hand resting casually on the wheel, the other hovering over the gear shift. He exuded a calm, detached power, looking utterly untouched by the wreckage of our marriage.

"You're quiet," he noted, his voice slicing through an hour of heavy silence.

"I have a headache," I lied, keeping my gaze fixed on the blurring trees.

He reached into the glove compartment without looking away from the road and tossed a plastic bottle into my lap.

"Take two," he commanded. "You need to be sharp. The Russos are meeting us there for dinner."

I gripped the bottle of aspirin until my knuckles turned white. To him, my pain was nothing more than a logistical error to be corrected.

When we finally arrived, the house loomed over the water like a fortress of glass and steel. It was cold, uninviting, and absolute. Below, the lake was black, its surface smooth as oil.

I went upstairs to unpack, needing to put distance between us. The master bedroom overlooked the water, and I stepped out onto the balcony, letting the wind whip my hair across my face.

That was when I saw it.

A car pulled up down the long, winding driveway. It wasn't the Russos.

It was a black sedan with tinted windows. A man stepped out. I didn't recognize his face, but I recognized the type instantly. He moved with the fluid, lethal grace of a predator. He wore a long coat, and in his hand, he carried a duffel bag that dragged slightly with weight.

This wasn't a dinner party.

Heart hammering against my ribs, I went downstairs.

Dante was in the kitchen, pouring a drink with his back to me.

"Who is that?" I asked, my voice trembling slightly.

Dante didn't turn around.

"Security," he said smoothly. "With the tension in the city, I wanted extra eyes on the perimeter."

He was lying. I could see it in the rigid set of his shoulders.

I walked closer, forcing myself to step into his space.

"Dante, look at me."

He turned slowly, swirling the amber liquid in his crystal glass. "What is it, Sera?"

"I know you're lying," I whispered. "I know about Valeria. I know you don't respect me. But tell me the truth now. Why are we really here?"

Dante set the glass down on the marble counter with a sharp clink. He walked over to me, his frame towering over mine, casting a long shadow.

He reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear. His touch was gentle, almost tender, but his eyes were terrifyingly empty.

"We are here to fix things, Seraphina," he said softly. "We are here to make sure the Family has a future. Sometimes, to build something new, you have to clear away the old debris."

A chill, colder than the lake wind, ran down my spine. I understood.

I was the debris.

He leaned down and kissed my forehead. It felt like a benediction. Or last rites.

"Go change for dinner," he murmured against my skin. "Wear the white dress. I like you in white."

I turned and walked up the stairs, forcing one foot in front of the other even though my legs felt like lead.

Once inside the bathroom, I locked the door. My hands shook as I turned on the shower, letting the water roar to mask any sound.

I reached into my bag and pulled out the burner phone I had hidden days ago.

I dialed the number I had memorized from my father's old journals-a fail-safe from a life I thought I had left behind. A number for a man who didn't exist. A cleaner. A ghost.

"I need a hit," I whispered the moment the line connected.

"Who is the target?" a distorted, mechanical voice asked.

"Me," I said, staring at my reflection. "Make it look like an accident. Make it look like a rival family did it. But I need to disappear. Tonight."

There was a long pause on the other end.

"The price is high."

"I can pay," I said instantly.

"Done. Be ready at midnight."

I hung up and flushed the SIM card down the toilet.

I looked at myself in the mirror. I was pale. I was shaking. But my eyes were dry.

I put on the white dress. The silk draped over me like a shroud. I looked like a ghost already.

Tonight, Seraphina Vitiello would die. And from her ashes, something else would rise. Something that would make Dante Moretti wish he had never learned the true meaning of the word Vendetta.

I took a deep breath, opened the bathroom door, and walked out to meet my executioner.