Sienna POV

I woke up sputtering, choking as a bucket of ice-cold water crashed against my face.

It wasn't fresh water. It tasted brackish. Salty.

I gasped, my chest heaving and lungs burning as I tried to inhale past the fluid.

I wasn't in the clinic anymore.

I was in the dark.

The air was damp and heavy, thick with the metallic tang of rust and the rot of mold.

I tried to lift my hands to wipe the stinging brine from my eyes.

There was a sharp, jarring clang.

Chains.

My wrists were shackled to the stone wall above my head, pulled so taut that my feet barely touched the ground.

"You're awake."

Dante stepped out of the shadows.

He was holding an empty metal bucket.

Despite the filth of the room, he looked impeccable. His suit was crisp, his hair slicked back without a single strand out of place.

As if he hadn't just drained his wife of blood to save his mistress.

"Why?" he asked.

One word.

He didn't shout. He sounded genuinely curious, like a scientist studying a specimen that had behaved unexpectedly.

I hung there, my body screaming in pain. The needle site on my arm throbbed in time with my racing heart.

Instinctively, I tried to move my fingers to speak, but the iron cuffs bit into my skin. I couldn't sign. My hands were bound.

I looked at him.

I let all the hate, all the sorrow, all the years of silence pour into my eyes like a weapon.

Because she is evil, I thought, screaming the words inside my skull. Because you are blind.

Dante stepped closer. He ran a finger down my wet cheek, his touch terrifyingly gentle.

"You broke Omertà, Sienna. You attacked the family. The penalty is death."

He paused, tilting his head slightly.

"But death is too easy for you. You like silence? You like the dark?"

He gestured to the dank space around us.

"This is the old wine cellar. The one you tried to lock Valeria in. Now, it's your home."

The heavy oak door creaked open behind him.

Valeria walked in.

She looked weak, leaning heavily on a cane, but her smile was vibrant, fed by a fresh source of life.

She was alive.

My blood was running through her veins now. It was my life force keeping her heart beating, fueling the very breath she used to mock me.

"Oh, Dante," she cooed, limping over to him and resting her head against his shoulder. "Is this wise? Her parents might ask questions."

Dante wrapped an arm around her waist, supporting her fragility.

"Her parents believe she has been sent to a private sanatorium in Switzerland for her... mental condition. They are grateful I am paying for the best care."

Valeria laughed. It was a sharp, brittle sound that echoed off the stone walls.

She walked up to me, her gaze predatory.

She leaned in close, so close that only I could hear her whisper.

"You gave me your blood, little fish," she hissed. "Now I really am part of the family. And you? You're just a ghost."

She turned back to Dante, her face transforming into a mask of adoration.

"The wedding preparations are almost done, my love. We need to send the announcements."

Dante looked at me one last time.

There was no regret in his eyes. Only a cold, hard resolve.

"Let her rot," he said.

They walked out, leaving me to the shadows.

The heavy door slammed shut.

The lock engaged with a sound like a gunshot, sealing my fate.

I was alone in the dark.

Buried alive.

Sienna POV

Three days passed.

Or perhaps it was four.

Time loses its meaning when the sun ceases to exist.

I survived on the crusts of stale bread and the tepid water that Rocco shoved through the slot in the iron door once a day.

But the cold was the worst part.

It seeped past my skin and settled deep into my marrow, making my joints ache with a familiar, biting throb. It reminded me of the freezer. Of the docks.

On the fourth day, the metal slot slid open with a harsh scrape.

Rocco didn't push food through this time.

Instead, he slid a sleek tablet across the rough stone.

"Boss wants you to watch," he grunted, his voice devoid of pity.

I dragged my body over to the device, my limbs heavy.

The screen flared to life, the brightness stinging my eyes.

It was a live stream.

The Vitiello estate gardens had been transformed into a paradise of white roses. A string quartet was playing Vivaldi, the elegant notes filtering tinny and distorted through the tablet's speakers.

It was a wedding.

My wedding.

But I wasn't the bride.

The camera panned to the altar.

Dante stood there. He looked devastating in a black tuxedo, sharp and imposing against the soft florals. He wasn't smiling. He looked like a statue carved from unyielding marble, beautiful and cold.

Then the music swelled and changed.

Valeria walked down the aisle.

She was wearing a gown of intricate lace that likely cost more than my entire existence. It was tight-fitting, perfectly showcasing the body that my blood had been spilled to save.

Beside the tablet, Rocco slid a piece of paper and a pen through the slot.

I picked it up, my fingers numb.

Divorce papers.

Reason: Irreconcilable Differences and Mental Instability.

I looked at the screen. The priest was speaking now, his words a low murmur.

I looked down at the paper.

My hand didn't shake.

For the first time in years, a strange, hollow calm settled over me.

I signed the paper.

Sienna Vitiello.

Then, I reached into the hidden hem of my dress.

The guards had searched me, patting down my ribs and pockets, but they hadn't checked the lining.

The vial was still there.

Gia had said one drop slows the heart. The whole vial stops it.

I worked the tiny cork free.

On the screen, Dante took Valeria’s hands in his.

"Do you, Dante Vitiello, take this woman..."

I raised the vial to my lips.

It tasted like nothing. Innocuous as water.

I swallowed it all.

I lay back on the cold stone floor, clutching the tablet to my chest like a lifeline.

My heart gave a hard thud against my ribs.

Then another.

Then it slowed.

Thump... thump...

On the screen, Dante was sliding a ring onto her finger.

He looked up then. Straight into the camera lens.

For a split second, I thought he could see me.

My vision blurred at the edges. The biting cold wasn't painful anymore. It was warm. Comforting, like a heavy blanket.

My lungs stopped drawing air.

The darkness wasn't a cage anymore.

It was freedom.

Dante Vitiello POV

The reception was nothing short of a circus.

Fake smiles. Fake congratulations. Fake loyalty.

I hated every goddamn second of it.

I had downed three glasses of scotch just to tolerate the sound of Valeria’s voice. She was drunk on champagne and power, parading around the room like she owned the very air we breathed.

Meanwhile, I couldn't get the image of Sienna out of my head.

The way she looked in that cell. Broken. Dirty.

And those eyes.

They didn't plead. They judged.

"Dante, baby," Valeria slurred, tugging me toward the elevators. "Let's go upstairs. The night is young."

I let her lead me to the bridal suite.

I didn't want her.

I craved silence.

Valeria kicked off her heels and collapsed onto the bed. She reached into her clutch and pulled out a folded piece of paper.

"Look what Rocco gave me," she giggled. "The little mute finally signed."

She tossed the paper at me.

It fluttered to the floor between us.

I picked it up.

The divorce decree.

At the bottom, the signature was shaky but firm.

Sienna Vitiello.

She had signed away her name. She had signed away her place by my side.

Something inside me snapped.

It was a violent, ugly fracture in my chest.

I didn't feel relief. I didn't feel free.

I felt rage.

Pure, molten rage.

"She signed it?" I asked, my voice dangerously quiet.

"Yes!" Valeria clapped her hands. "Now we are official. No more loose ends."

I stared at the paper.

She gave up.

Sienna never gave up. She fought me at every turn. She defied me with her silence.

Signing this paper wasn't surrender. It was an exit.

I tore the paper in half.

Then in quarters.

"Dante?" Valeria sat up, her smile faltering. "What are you doing?"

I let the confetti of legal documents rain down on the carpet.

"She is my wife," I growled, stalking toward the bed. "She stays my wife until I say otherwise."

Valeria scrambled back against the headboard. "But... but we just got married! The ceremony!"

"A show," I said. "For your father. For the Commission."

I grabbed Valeria’s chin, forcing her to look at me. Her eyes widened in fear.

"You are a placeholder, Valeria. Do not forget that. You wear the ring because I allow it. But Sienna..."

My chest heaved.

"Sienna belongs to me. Even in that cell. Even in hell."

I released her. She fell back against the pillows, sobbing.

I walked to the window and looked out at the dark grounds.

Why did I feel like I had just lost something I could never replace?