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.

I watched his retreating figure quietly and whispered under my breath, "I wouldn't marry a shameless, cheating man either."

After they left, I slowly looked around the room. The bathroom floor was wet, the air still heavy with moisture. In the trash bin, two used condoms lay discarded carelessly.

A wave of nausea rose in my chest, making me feel sick.

So this was what his "overtime" had been all about. Every night, before climbing the stairs back to the main residence, he had been down here with her in this safehouse kept off the Family's books.

I walked into Serafina's bedroom. It was filled with luxury items: designer bags, high-end skincare products neatly arranged on every surface, silk scarves draped over a chair still warm from use. Everything in the room spoke of indulgence and excess. The kind of indulgence only a Don's protected woman could afford.

I suddenly remembered how, just a few days ago, I had asked Dominic for a lipstick as a birthday gift.

He had looked at me with pure disdain and said, "You're already thirty. Why are you still celebrating birthdays? Trying to act young? It's disgusting. Just stay home and do your chores. No amount of expensive makeup will make you twenty again."

He was right about one thing. I would never be twenty again.

But Dominic had never lacked twenty-year-old girls around him. Serafina was just the one he favored the most.

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm. Then I pulled out my phone and began taking pictures of everything in the room, documenting every detail. The bags with their receipts. The skincare with the price tags still attached. The bedroom that cost more per month than most of the associates earned running his legitimate fronts. Every photograph was leverage, and leverage was the only currency this world respected.

After that, I went back upstairs and started packing my things.

In the seven years we had been together, the things Dominic had given me were pitifully few. A set of French kitchenware, a robot vacuum, and a so-called "master-crafted" knife set. I left them all behind without hesitation.

As I packed, I couldn't help but let out a quiet, bitter laugh. Serafina's belongings downstairs filled an entire room. Yet in this place where I had lived for years, everything I owned could fit into a single suitcase.

When I was done, I picked up my phone and called my best friend, Adriana Ricci, who was overseas running a legitimate front in allied territory. After three missed calls, she finally answered.

I bit my lip, holding back my tears as I spoke. "Adriana… I was wrong. I shouldn't have given up my career and my life for Dominic. I regret everything. I want to come find you."

She called me a fool, her tone harsh and unfiltered, saying I deserved it. Then she hung up.

I sat there in the empty room, a wave of sadness washing over me.

All the moments when she had tried to warn me came rushing back. I remembered the disappointment in her eyes the last time we spoke face to face. She had told me that a woman who gave up her own name for a man's protection ended up with neither.

Just as my tears finally began to fall, my phone lit up again.

Adriana had booked me the earliest available ticket. Three days later, at noon.

The tears I had been holding back for so long finally broke free.

Tears for myself. Tears for the seven years I had wasted.

Dominic didn't come home that night. After I refused to cook for Serafina, he blocked my number without hesitation, as if cutting me off was the most natural thing in the world. A Don's silence was its own kind of punishment, and he wielded it the way other men wielded fists.

I didn't bother trying to reach him again. Instead, I packed lightly and took the trip back to my hometown, planning to collect a few things from my childhood before leaving for good.

I had no idea what Dominic had told my Hale beforehand. The moment I stepped off the bus, I saw Evelina already waiting at the door, craning her neck and looking around anxiously, clearly expecting someone else.

When she realized that Dominic hadn't come with me, the anticipation on her face disappeared instantly. Her expression darkened, her lips pressing into a thin, displeased line. The look of a woman watching her family's last connection to protection and tribute walk away.

What she didn't know was that Dominic would never come here again. From the very beginning, he had looked down on me and the Bellavia name, treating our fading bloodline as something beneath him. We were useful for the alliance. Nothing more.

My Hale walked up to me quickly and asked, "Have you two made up yet?" Her tone carried both urgency and expectation, as if there was only one acceptable answer.

"We're not going to," I replied calmly. But the moment the words left my mouth, her hand came down hard across my face.