After seven years together, Dominic Valente, who had never once given me flowers, sent me 9,999 roses and a set of lingerie for my birthday.

I happily posted about it on social media, only for his 'ideal woman' to comment underneath: [Some people can only pick up the trash I don't want.]

That's when I learned that he had bought a safehouse for her, right below the residence he kept for us in the family compound. The gifts he gave me were actually meant for her.

I personally delivered the flowers to them and caught them having a candlelit dinner together.

Dominic, without any hesitation, cursed at me. "Can you stop being so dirty-minded? Serafina and I are just discussing business. Besides, if there really was something between us, would you have even had the chance to become my alliance bride?"

In the past, I would have argued with him endlessly to get to the truth. But this time, I just casually tossed the flowers and my alliance ring at him and said calmly, "I wish you both happiness."

——

The ring rolled across the floor in a slow, almost mocking arc before coming to a stop at Dominic's feet. He lowered his gaze, a cold sneer forming on his lips. Without hesitation, he lifted his foot and pressed down hard, grinding the ring into the ground as if it were worthless. In that instant, it felt like he had crushed not just the ring, but also every ounce of dignity and love I had once held for him.

The room was silent. Serafina sat perfectly still at the table, candlelight catching the edge of her wine glass. A soldier stood near the kitchen doorway, eyes fixed on the middle distance, pretending he hadn't seen a thing. In this world, witnessing a Don's private cruelty was its own kind of danger.

His voice followed, sharp and impatient. "If you want to marry me, then fix that suspicious, paranoid attitude of yours." He didn't even look at me as he spoke. "Stop making a scene over nothing. Now move aside. We have serious matters to discuss. Go home and reflect on yourself."

Hearing those familiar accusations again, I expected anger, or maybe the sting of humiliation. But instead, an unfamiliar calm spread through me. It was quiet, almost numb, like something inside me had finally broken beyond repair.

My thumb drifted to the pale mark on my ring finger where the band had sat for years. I felt the bare skin there, the slight indentation that hadn't yet faded. Then I forced my hand back to my side.

I didn't argue. I didn't cry. I simply turned around and walked away, leaving behind the ring, the place, and the version of myself that had once begged for his attention.

After leaving Serafina's safehouse, I opened the family group chat without hesitation. My fingers moved quickly as I typed out everything, exposing Dominic's betrayal and clearly stating that I was breaking the alliance.

For a brief moment, the chat fell silent. Then, almost immediately, the man who never replied to my messages suddenly appeared. He sent a photo of his computer screen, as if that could erase everything.

[Just working late with a female associate.]

Then, as expected, he shifted the blame with practiced ease. [Bianca, there's no need to throw a tantrum just because I didn't buy you that eight-thousand-dollar wedding dress.]

Another message followed quickly. [I didn't even mention how you used my credit card to drink at bars with your male friends.] His words were calculated, each one designed to make me look unreasonable.

The once-quiet group chat exploded in an instant. Notifications poured in rapidly, one after another, filling the screen with noise and judgment.

My Hale was the first to speak. Her words were harsh, cutting, and relentless. She scolded me as if I had committed some unforgivable mistake, saying I wasn't worthy of Dominic and that I should be grateful he even tolerated someone from a line as faded as the Bellavias.

She demanded that I apologize to him immediately. Then, as always, she escalated things, threatening that if I let go of such a powerful union, she would rather die to prove her point. I could almost see it: Evelina wetting her lower lip, that small injured sigh through her nose, before the manipulation arrived dressed as motherhood.

I stared at the screen, watching everything unfold exactly as I had expected. There was no surprise left in me, only a quiet sense of inevitability.

With a soft sigh, I exited the group chat, cutting myself off from the suffocating noise.

After my parents split, my Hale had changed completely. The warmth she once had slowly disappeared, replaced by constant irritability and sharp criticism. She had clung to what remained of the Bellavia name the way a drowning woman clings to driftwood, and every decision she made for me was about restoring what the family had lost. Growing up in that suffocating environment, I had longed for something gentle, something stable.

That was why I had been drawn to Dominic in the first place. He seemed calm, polished, and patient, everything my home life was not. The young Don of the Valente Family, with his tailored suits and quiet authority, his hand at the small of my back at charity dinners. I thought I had finally found someone who could give me peace.

But after seven years together, I finally understood the truth. He was nothing like what he appeared to be.

His patience and kindness were reserved for Serafina Conti. His courtesy was for strangers and associates whose loyalty he still needed to secure.

With me, there was only cold indifference, subtle cruelty, and words that cut deeper than any blade.

He was especially skilled at manipulating situations in front of others. He would provoke me again and again until I lost control.

He would watch as I broke down, raising my voice, questioning him in anger, while he remained calm and composed. Then, at just the right moment, he would step in and play the understanding partner.

He would "forgive" me in front of everyone, making himself look generous, while I was left standing there, reduced to an irrational, hysterical woman. The capos watched. The wives whispered. And Dominic's reputation as a measured, patient man only grew.

Over time, that became the story everyone believed. I was the unreasonable one. The emotional one. The problem.

And he was the patient man who endured it all.

But this time, he had miscalculated.

Only those who still care make a scene. Only those who still hope will fight.

A heart that has already withered does neither.

When Dominic came through the front door, two soldiers trailed him to the threshold before peeling off to their posts outside. He was holding a bouquet of roses. The petals were wilted, their edges damp and curled, as if they had already been used and discarded before being brought here.

I was lying on the sofa, casually scrolling through my phone, completely indifferent to his arrival.

He scoffed when he saw me. "Why haven't you cooked dinner? Still mad?" His tone was full of impatience.

"Enough is enough," he continued. "Haven't you always wanted flowers? I bought them, didn't I? So stop sulking."

He threw the bouquet in front of me, as if tossing something insignificant.

There was a time when I would have been happy. I used to envy women at Sunday Mass clutching fresh bouquets their husbands had brought, their faces filled with quiet joy.

I had mentioned it to Dominic many times, hoping for something simple, something ordinary.

But every time, he responded with irritation. "If I'd known you were this vain, I wouldn't have gotten involved with you."

"It's not that I can't afford it," he said coldly. "But you, Bianca, what have you achieved? You're just a woman who cooks and keeps house. Do you even deserve it?"

He called me lazy. He called me materialistic.

Yet he conveniently forgot that it was he who persuaded me to step away from my work at the Bellavia family's last legitimate front, who promised me a future, a marriage, a life bound to his. He said the alliance would protect my family's name. He said I would never want for anything.

I believed him. I gave up everything for him.

And in return, I became nothing more than a servant in his eyes.

He was too stingy to buy me a single fresh rose, yet he had no hesitation when it came to Serafina.

For her, he set up a safehouse. For her, he prepared countless flowers.

Not long ago, I saw Serafina's post. They were soaking together in a bathtub filled with rose petals, laughing and playing like lovers without shame.

After ruining those 9,999 roses, they picked out a few intact ones and brought them to me, as if I should feel grateful.

I looked at the wilted bouquet in front of me, disgust rising in my chest.

Without hesitation, I lifted my foot and kicked it away.

Then I raised my eyes to Dominic, my voice calm and steady.

"I don't like dirty, second-hand things."

I paused for a moment, then added,

"And I dislike dirty, second-hand men even more."

Upon hearing my words, Dominic's face darkened instantly, his expression turning cold and displeased. His hand went still at his side, the signet ring motionless against his thumb. His voice carried a sharp edge as he snapped, "Bianca, what right do you have to speak to me like that?" He took a step closer, his tone growing even harsher. "Don't forget, you're living under my roof. My protection. My name keeps your family breathing."

For a brief moment, I almost laughed at the absurdity of it. In the seven years of our arrangement, we had always split expenses equally. Even after I stepped away from work, I had been using my own savings, carefully budgeting every cent. Not once had I truly depended on him.

I wanted to argue, to expose his hypocrisy right then and there. But before I could say a word, the oven suddenly beeped, cutting through the tense silence. The sound felt strangely grounding. Too tired to continue the argument, I simply turned away, put on my gloves, and carefully took the cake out of the oven.

Dominic frowned slightly as he stared at the cake, his gaze lingering on it for a few seconds. Then, as if something clicked in his mind, his expression softened just a little. "Is today… your birthday?" he asked, his tone no longer as sharp.

Today was my thirtieth birthday. It was also the seventh anniversary of being bound to him. I had spent the entire day in the kitchen of this guarded house, carefully baking this cake by hand, hoping that we could celebrate together once he came back from whatever sit-down or back room had kept him. It was a simple wish, yet it now felt almost laughable.

Perhaps out of a trace of guilt, Dominic took the initiative to find some candles. He placed them awkwardly on the cake and hurriedly said, "I've been really busy lately. Family business has been overwhelming. I'll make it up to you." He paused briefly before adding, "How about this afternoon, I take you out to pick a new alliance ring? Bigger stone. Something people notice."

He sat down across from me, straightening his posture, slipping back into that familiar, polished version of himself. The candlelight caught the edge of his signet ring as he folded his hands on the table. His voice softened as he spoke again. "Bianca, there's really no need to be jealous of Serafina. We were together when we were young, but that was years ago. I've already moved on."

Moved on?

The words echoed faintly in my mind, pulling up an old memory I could never quite erase. Back when we had just started seeing each other, I once brought him lunch as a surprise at the social club on Mulberry. Standing outside the back room, I overheard him talking to his capos. When they asked why he chose me, he had replied casually, "Anyone is fine, as long as it's not Serafina."

At the time, I had been too young, too proud, and too naive. I believed that sincerity could change everything, that love could fill any gap. Looking back now, I finally understood how foolish I had been. I had made the same mistake over and over again, and now it was time to stop before I lost myself completely.

I looked at him and replied coldly, "No need. You can go. I'll handle it myself."

Dominic froze for a moment, clearly caught off guard by my tone. But after years of me giving in, of swallowing my pride and forgiving him, he quickly relaxed. He assumed this was just another one of those times, that I would eventually compromise again.

With a small smile, he lit the candles and pushed the cake slightly closer to me. "Go on, make a wish," he said lightly, as if everything was normal.

In the past, every birthday wish I made was about him. I wished for us to be happy, to stay together, to grow old side by side. But this time, as I closed my eyes, my wish was simple and clear.

I want to be happy. I want to be free from Dominic, forever.

When I opened my eyes, ready to blow out the candles, I realized that he was already gone. The room felt strangely empty. The faint smell of his cologne still hung in the air, mixing with the candle smoke.

The cake I had spent six or seven hours making lay on the floor, smashed beyond recognition. He had left in such a hurry that he knocked it over, not even bothering to stop or pick it up. The door was left half open, as if even that small detail didn't matter to him.

After silently cleaning up the mess, I picked up my phone.

Serafina had just posted a new update: I'm such a clumsy girl. I bumped into the cabinet while walking. Luckily, my Prince Charming is always there to protect me.

In the comments, Dominic, the same man who had ignored me even when I was in a car accident, replied almost instantly: Whenever you need me, I'll always be there.

I stared at the screen for a moment, then calmly pressed the like button.

Not long after, a new message from him popped up. Serafina hurt her foot. I'm taking her to the private clinic. Go over and clean up her place.

Another message followed immediately. And make some bone broth to bring over. Don't put cilantro in it.

At that moment, everything suddenly made sense. Dominic never had any dietary restrictions. Yet every time I added cilantro to a dish, he would explode in anger, calling me useless and incapable.

It wasn't that he hated cilantro. It was Serafina who did.

I stared at the message for a long time, thinking about ignoring it completely. My thumb drifted to the pale mark on my ring finger where the alliance ring used to sit. But after a brief hesitation, I still walked downstairs.

Dominic was holding Serafina in his arms, speaking to her in a soft, gentle voice. One of his soldiers stood near the car with the rear door already open, eyes averted, as though tenderness from the Don was something no one was supposed to witness. The moment Dominic saw me, his expression turned cold again. "Why are you so late?" he snapped. "If Serafina's treatment gets delayed—"

Before he could finish, Serafina gently tugged on his sleeve, her voice soft and considerate. "Dominic, I'm fine. Don't be mad at Bianca because of me. I know she's never liked me."

Her words were gentle, but they cut deeper than any accusation.

Dominic immediately frowned and turned his anger toward me. "Enough, Bianca. Clean this place properly. I'm not going to marry a jealous woman who can't even handle simple things."

With that, he carried Serafina away without another glance. The soldier followed, and the door of the black sedan closed with a quiet, final sound.