The next evening, a black bulletproof sedan eased into a top-tier luxury jewelry store designated as a neutral zone.

Dante was behind the wheel. He brought Silvia into a private VIP vault that was never open to clients.

"Yesterday was your birthday. The Heart of the Sea arrived. I had it taken from an Azantrian warlord last year. I thought you should see it."

Silvia's right shoulder was still unhealed. The wound had yet to form a scab, and her expression was faintly unfocused.

There had been a time when their feelings were mutual. He had chosen her birthday for their wedding and promised that every year, on that same day, he would present her with a rare jewel as a pledge.

After that, another person came between them.

"Is your injury still painful?"

Dante met her eyes briefly in the rearview mirror, an uncharacteristic gesture of concern.

Silvia almost believed that what she had endured the night before, the ordeal of being stitched without anesthesia, had left him uneasy.

That belief faltered with Lucia seated beside him.

"Dante, the security here is incredible. It looks like something out of a film!" Lucia said brightly.

Silvia swallowed the sour weight in her chest. Her thoughts drifted to her mother, Rosetta Ceretti, and the words she had spoken before she died.

The Valenti family had once helped them. In repayment, Silvia had been trained harshly from a young age and had devoted herself to Dante's protection.

Now, even with someone else at his side, she continued to endure, honoring Rosetta's final wish.

In the inner room, the manager stepped forward in white gloves and presented a velvet case with both hands.

"Don Valenti, this is the piece you personally selected. The main diamond is 20 carats, with exceptional clarity. There is only one like it in the world."

The blue diamond was deep and luminous, recalling a tear taken from the sea itself.

Silvia's breath caught. Without thinking, she reached out, as though reaching for something she once believed in.

"It's beautiful! I've only seen diamonds like that on TV," Lucia said, her tone full of envy.

Her gaze soon dropped, and her voice softened.

"Silvia is so fortunate. I grew up in a slum. I nearly died fighting over a glass marble."

Dante had been examining the diamond's cut. Lucia's words drew his thoughts back to her past, to the years she spent fighting to survive, and pity quietly took hold.

He decided on the spot, his eyes crinkling with the same easy smile at Silvia. "Silvia, there's a tactical flaw in this necklace. It's not right for you."

Her fingers curled slightly. Her mood sank inch by inch.

"What's wrong with it?" she asked.

"You're responsible for my security. You're the family's sharpest blade. A necklace with a complex chain like this becomes a noose the moment a fight turns close range."

It was Silvia's birthday gift—proof that she was his wife, not just his soldato. She wasn't willing to compromise.

"Relax. No one in this area can get close to me."

Her pushback made Dante frown. He took it as stubbornness.

"I didn't say you can't wear it. But practicality comes first if you want to stay alive. Listen to me."

When he finished, his gaze shifted to Lucia's neck, and his voice softened. "Lucia, you've got a solo exhibition next week. As someone under my protection, how you present yourself reflects the family. I won't have other families looking down on you.

"Take this necklace and wear it. It'll hold the room."

Lucia looked up in shock, tears shining as she waved her hands. "I can't, Dante. That's Silvia's—"

"Don't refuse me," Dante cut her off. He picked up the priceless necklace and stepped behind her.

"Silvia doesn't care about dressing up. It'll just sit in a safe and gather dust. This suits your skin. With this on, I'd like to see who dares question your background."

He lowered his head and fastened the clasp at Lucia's neck, focused and gentle, every inch the devoted husband.

Silvia stood where she was, like someone who'd wandered into a world that was never meant for her.

Only after everything was settled did Dante seem to remember she was supposed to be the focus tonight.

"Oh, right. Didn't you have your eye on that Eisenland tactical knife before? I'll have the arms dealer send it over. I'll make it up to you with a top-tier personal combat loadout."

How considerate! He gave jewelry to the woman he loved and weapons to the soldato.

Silvia stayed stubborn. "I don't want compensation. I want what belongs to me."

Dante's gaze cooled, a warning slipping into his voice. "Don't push it! Top-grade weapons on the black market cost just as much as that pile of stones. I'm thinking of you.

"Wearing something like that while fighting is a good way to get yourself killed faster. Is that what you want?"

Lucia sensed the shift at once and hurried to explain, "Silvia, please don't be upset. I'm only borrowing it for a few days. If you really want it, I'll take it off right now."

She made a show of unfastening it, but her "clumsy" fingers couldn't get the clasp to budge, and panic reddened her eyes.

Dante pressed Lucia's hand down, his expression turning cold. "Enough! It's just a necklace. Is this really worth being this aggressive?"

He couldn't be bothered to look at Silvia again. He pulled Lucia along and strode for the door. "Ignore her. Come on. I'll take you to try the matching couture. Don't let this ruin your mood."

The manager stood awkwardly with the empty box. "Donna Valenti, how—"

"Throw it away."

A sharp burn flared again in Silvia's right shoulder. She drew her coat tighter around herself and let out a quiet breath.

"I'm sorry, Mom. I don't think I can hold on much longer. If I can't carry out your wish someday, please don't hold it against me."

She whispered the prayer to herself and tipped her head back, forcing the tears down.

Rivoria's headlines were wall-to-wall with Lucia's name.

Dante had rented out the largest art museum for her solo exhibition. Every major faction showed up.

Silvia was there, too. As Dante's wife, she wore a black suit meant for a fight, with an earpiece tucked in, and disappeared into a corner.

It was Dante's order.

"Everyone here tonight runs a family. Too many eyes, too many risks. A gown would slow you down. Lucia's the focus. You handle the perimeter and keep anyone unwanted from getting near her."

Silvia stood behind a column and watched him take Lucia's arm beneath the lights.

Lucia wore a shimmering mermaid gown. Around her neck hung the Heart of the Sea, the necklace that should've been Silvia's, the blue diamond throwing off a cold gleam that spoke the language of power.

Voices murmured all around them.

"Don Valenti really dotes on Ms. Pellini. He even gave her a diamond necklace like that!"

"Where's Donna Valenti? Why hasn't she appeared?"

"Keep it down! What Donna? She's nothing more than an 'elite soldato.' Have you ever seen a proper society wife standing guard in menswear?"

Silvia rubbed the web of her right hand without thinking. Years of gripping a gun had left the skin rough and thick with calluses. It didn't belong anywhere near fine jewelry.

When it came time to unveil the final piece, Lucia reached for the red silk draped over the easel.

That was the moment everything went wrong. The main support cable of the crystal chandelier overhead had been cut.

Screams tore through the crowd.

Lucia froze, shock wiping out even the instinct to run.

"Move!"

Silvia's body reacted faster than her mind. She burst forward and slammed into them, driving Lucia and Dante toward the safe side.

The crash was deafening. The chandelier fell and struck Silvia hard across the back. The broken gold-plated frame tore straight through her skin.

She let out a muffled grunt as both knees slammed into the floor. Blood sprayed outward. A few bright drops splattered across the painting nearby and spread into a dark, blooming stain.

Dante scooped up Lucia at once, pulling her tight against his chest, his words rushing out. "Lucia! Are you hurt? Did any of the shards cut you?"

"Dante, I'm scared… No! The painting… My painting!"

Only after he was sure Lucia was completely unharmed did he whip his head around.

Silvia thought he'd come help her or at least call for someone. His shout hit her instead, sharp and sudden.

"Silvia! Are you blind? That was tonight's featured piece! Lucia poured everything she had into that painting!"

Silvia struggled to breathe as she tried to push herself up. "Help me. It hurts…"

Only then did the people around them react, rushing forward together to drag the chandelier off her.

Lucia stared at the painting, tears falling in heavy drops. "My painting's ruined! It's covered in blood. Dante, this was meant for you. Silvia destroyed it!"

Seeing Lucia cry only fed the violence in Dante's chest.

Silvia forced the words out through the pain, "It was an accident! If I hadn't shoved her away, she'd be dead right now!"

"That's what you're supposed to do! The family's kept you all these years. As a made man, it's your job to take the hit for me, even if it kills you! But ruining the thing she loves most is your failure!

"How do you think those hands of yours could ever repay Lucia for her painting? Even if you cut them off and sold them, it still wouldn't be enough."

Silvia's gaze dimmed all at once, and the change grated on him.

"What are you standing around for? Get her treated. How annoying!"

Silvia made her way toward the exit at a measured pace, his gentle reassurance forcing its way into her ears.

"Lucia, don't cry. I'll find the best restorer there is. Even if it can't be fixed, I'll build you ten galleries to make up for it, alright?"

Silvia walked down the hallway and remembered that those same hands had once shielded her from a falling steel beam.

Back then, as the heir to the family, Dante had lost control for the first time. He'd held her while she was soaked in blood, terror shaking through him, wishing he could take her place.

Time was ruthless. It could turn treasure into trash and vows into jokes.

After the chandelier incident, Enrico warned Silvia that the tendon damage meant she couldn't let the wound get wet for at least half a month. Weapons training was off-limits as well.

The former Don had passed early. Dante now held the reins of the family, though several long-standing consigliere and branch elders remained.

Days later, the family gathered once again at Valenti Estate for the annual dinner.

Dante spent the whole dinner angled to the left, leaning in now and then to ask Lucia if everything tasted right, and left Silvia to herself.

"Lucia, try the spiny lobster that was flown in."

Lucia was dressed in a light pink off-the-shoulder dress, the Heart of the Sea still around her neck. She knitted her brows and shifted her gaze to the crawfish boil, its red shells glossy under the lights.

Her voice came out soft. "Dante, I'm in the mood for something spicy. But I've been drawing nonstop for the exhibition. My wrist's aching, and I can't peel the shells."

The senior members at the table watched nothing and said nothing. No one there was unaware of where Dante's favor now lay.

Dante nodded when he heard her. "An artist's hands exist to create beauty. They shouldn't be wasted on rough work. It risks damaging their sensitivity. That was my oversight."

When he raised his eyes again, his expression had settled into the familiar distance of the Don. "Silvia, peel the crawfish for Lucia."

Silvia raised her hands. Bandages wrapped them tightly, darkened by seeping medication. "My stitches haven't been removed. I can't do it."

"It's only crawfish. How much force could it possibly take?" Dante asked, displeased.

Being contradicted by a subordinate in front of the senior members struck at his authority.

"You used to set your own bones and keep fighting. Now you're fragile? Don't forget. The family doesn't keep deadweight."

"I…"

"That's an order."

Silvia recognized the signs of his anger at once, his brow tightening and the corners of his mouth dipping.

Rosetta's last words surfaced again.

Silvia finally put the spoon down and said, "Si."

The sharp edge of the crawfish shell pierced the bandage. Spice soaked into split skin, and pain washed over her until her vision dimmed.

Eventually, one whole crawfish was peeled and placed before Lucia. The meat was white and tender, streaked with the faintest red.

It was Silvia's blood.

Lucia yelped, clapped a hand over her mouth, and retched.

Dante slammed his cutlery down. "Silvia! Was this intentional?"

He pointed at the plate of crawfish, his stare dark and vicious.

"I told you to peel crawfish, and this is the scene you put on. Blood all over your hands. Who are you trying to show this to? Are you trying to tell everyone here I've been mistreating you?"

He was convinced she'd done it deliberately. A bloody display meant to disgust Lucia, ruin the dinner, and stage a silent protest against him.

Lucia hurried to soothe him. "Dante, don't be angry. Silvia might've just wanted your sympathy. I'll just skip it."

"You're not skipping it. I'll peel it for you myself."

Silvia watched Dante, the man she had once stood beside under gunfire, and his face suddenly felt terrifyingly unfamiliar.

She remembered taking a bullet for him and ending up with an infected wound, bedridden for a month. Back then, he never left her side.

The Don, who had been raised in comfort, learned to do a caretaker's job. His eyes were bloodshot from sleepless nights, his hand locked around hers as if letting go would let death take her.

In those days, he cried every time he bent to kiss her wound.

Now, to please Lucia, Dante forced Silvia into a maid's role and recoiled from her blood as if it were filth.

"Sorry for the interruption."

Silvia turned and walked straight out of the dining room. She didn't look back.

Dante watched the thin line of blood on the floor and felt an unexpected weight press against his chest. At some point, she'd grown into a weapon that rarely spoke.

Protecting him had become her entire design. She'd erased every trace of emotion, and the rigid discipline that replaced it was enough to choke the air out of him.

The woman who slept beside him felt like a weapon that couldn't feel pain, cold and unyielding as iron. Even now, she showed no temper. She even stood up and apologized, polite to the end.

Dante followed the bloodstains into the hall, hoping to catch a last glimpse of Silvia, but she was already gone. The emptiness unsettled him for no reason.