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.

The slap rang loudly, and I staggered slightly. Half of my face burned instantly, swelling up as the pain spread.

Still not satisfied, she raised her hand again and began hitting me, just like she used to when I was a child. This time, she didn't even try to hold back, doing it right there in front of the neighbors, in front of anyone who passed along our narrow street where everyone knew the Bellavia name and what little was left of it.

She grabbed the wooden stick leaning by the door and started beating me with it, her strikes fast and forceful. One blow after another landed on my body, each one heavier than the last.

As she hit me, she shouted accusations, her voice sharp and furious. "Dominic already told me everything! Do you have any idea how lucky you are? A man like him is something you'd only deserve after several lifetimes of good fortune!"

"And yet you can't even keep him! Jealous, unruly, acting however you want. You're nothing but a lowly, useless person!" she continued, her words cutting just as deeply as the blows. Somewhere down the block a car idled, its engine low, and I knew one of Dominic's soldiers sat behind the wheel watching this. They were always watching.

Her voice grew louder and more hysterical. "Let me tell you this, no matter what it takes, even if you have to beg or get pregnant, you must find a way to marry Dominic! Otherwise, don't even think about coming back here!"

At that moment, a gust of cold wind swept through the street, and heavy rain began to pour down without warning. The sudden downpour soaked everything within seconds.

Only then did my Hale finally stop. Instead of letting me inside, she stepped forward and blocked the doorway, her body acting as a barrier. She wet her lower lip and let out a small, injured sigh through her nose before she spoke again, and I recognized the ritual. The cruelty was about to dress itself as motherhood.

She threw my belongings out one by one, without care, as if they meant nothing. "Get out!" she shouted. "If you're going to die, then die at the Valente family's house. Don't dirty my doorstep!"

One of my childhood trophies struck my forehead as it was tossed out. The impact made my vision blur for a moment, and warm blood mixed with the cold rainwater as it slowly trickled down my cheek.

I bent down silently, my hands trembling slightly as I sifted through the scattered items on the ground, trying to gather what little pieces of my past I could still hold onto. My thumb drifted to the pale mark on my ring finger where the alliance ring had sat for seven years, and for one breath I let it stay there. Then I forced my hand back to my side and kept gathering.

A black Bentley slowly pulled up beside me, its presence out of place in the pouring rain. The door opened, and Dominic stepped out, holding an umbrella in one hand. His suit was perfect, his signet ring catching the streetlight as rain streaked past it.

With the other hand, he grabbed my arm firmly, his grip tight and unyielding. Without giving me a chance to react, he dragged me toward the car and pushed me inside.

Once the door shut, the rain became a muffled roar against the glass. The interior smelled of leather and cigar smoke and something else. He spoke in a low, controlled tone. "Bianca, have you learned your lesson now?"

He looked at me as if he were granting me mercy. "There's no one in this world who will love you except me. Be a good girl and come home. Apologize properly to Serafina, and you'll still be the future Mrs. Valente."

He took off his coat and draped it over my shoulders. But the moment it touched me, a familiar scent hit my senses. It was Serafina's perfume, lingering unmistakably on the fabric.

I turned my head slowly, looking out the window at the rain-blurred streets. Everything outside looked distorted and distant, just like how I felt inside.

Once, I had believed Dominic was my salvation. I had trusted him with my deepest thoughts, my fears, and my pain, thinking he would understand me better than anyone else.

But now I realized that he had used all of that against me. He had taken my vulnerability and turned it into a tool to control me. Every secret I had whispered in the dark of his bedroom, every fear I had named, he had filed away the way his consigliere filed leverage on judges and union bosses. I was just another asset to manage.

He had never been my refuge. And he was never worth my love.

Only by leaving him, and leaving that so-called home behind, could I truly have a chance at a better life. That thought settled quietly but firmly in my heart.

While I was lost in these thoughts, Dominic's phone suddenly rang, breaking the silence inside the car.

A woman's voice came through the speaker, light and slightly anxious. "Dominic, why aren't you here yet? Everyone's waiting for you."

"They're all teasing me," she continued with a soft laugh. "They're saying how the estate gathering has the boss's wife attending, but the boss himself is nowhere to be seen. I'm running out of ways to explain for you."

Dominic glanced at me awkwardly after hearing that. There was a flicker of hesitation in his eyes, as if he was weighing his options.

He clearly wanted to leave me behind, but at the same time, he seemed to realize that doing so might not look appropriate in front of others. Even a Don had to mind appearances when soldiers and associates were watching.

After a brief pause, he said, "Bianca, why don't you come along to the estate gathering?" His tone was casual, as if he were offering me some kind of favor.

In the past, I was never allowed anywhere near his operations. Even when I brought him meals at the social club, I had to wait outside like a stranger, letting his trusted aide come out to take the food so I wouldn't disturb his work.

This invitation, if it could even be called that, was something unprecedented. A rare "kindness" from him.

I took out a tissue and gently wiped the blood from my forehead. My movements were slow and steady, as if nothing could disturb me anymore.

Then I looked up slightly and replied in a calm voice, "Okay."

I arrived completely soaked, my clothes clinging to my body, my hair dripping with rainwater. I must have looked utterly disheveled standing there in front of everyone, out of place and embarrassing. The Valente vineyard estate was warm with candlelight and low conversation, and I stood at the entrance of it like something the storm had dragged in.

Dominic didn't even try to hide it. The moment we entered, he deliberately quickened his pace, walking ahead of me and putting distance between us. It was as if he was afraid people would realize I was with him, afraid of being associated with someone like me.

When Serafina saw me, her lips immediately curled into a pout of displeasure. Her expression was subtle, but the disdain in her eyes was impossible to miss.

As I stood there, I overheard Dominic lean closer to her and whisper in a low voice, "I don't feel sorry for her. I just want to embarrass her."

He let out a faint, almost amused breath before continuing, "I want everyone to see that without me, she's worse off than a dog."

Those words should have hurt. They should have pierced straight through me. But surrounded by the mocking, curious, and judgmental stares of the people around me, I felt… nothing.

Maybe I had already been hurt too many times. Maybe my heart had long since gone numb.

I raised my hand calmly and asked a passing server for a blanket. Wrapping it around myself, I walked over to the sofa and sat down quietly, watching the crowd move about as if I were just an observer, detached from everything.

Associates laughed, capos talked, men toasted glasses of dark wine. The atmosphere was lively, but none of it had anything to do with me. I simply sat there, still and silent, as if I didn't belong in that world anymore.

Just then, my phone rang. It was Adriana.

Her voice came through the line, steady and efficient. She told me she had already contacted several operations overseas for me and that I could go for interviews anytime I was ready. Her words were direct, but beneath them was a kind of quiet support.

I felt a faint warmth in my chest, something I hadn't felt in a long time. I was just about to respond when suddenly, a hand landed on my shoulder.

Startled, I turned my head and saw Dominic standing behind me. His brows were slightly furrowed, his expression carrying a hint of suspicion.

"Who are you talking to?" he asked, his tone sharp. "What interview? Where are you planning to go?"

I met his gaze for a brief moment before answering casually, "Telemarketing."

At my reply, the tension in his expression slowly eased. His frown relaxed, and a trace of satisfaction appeared in his eyes. His signet ring settled against his thumb, still.

"That makes sense," he said lightly. "Your own family doesn't even want you anymore, so where could you possibly go?"

He glanced toward the window and added indifferently, "The rain has stopped. There's nothing for you to do here. Go home."

Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he reminded me, "When you get back, don't forget to wash my coat."

I didn't respond. Instead, I quietly took off the coat he had given me earlier and tossed it onto the sofa beside me.