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.

That day marked the anniversary of Rosetta's death. She was Silvia's mother and also the person who saved Dante's life.

Years ago, she shielded him from a car crash explosion that would've killed him outright. Without her, the man known as the Don wouldn't exist.

On that day every year, regardless of where his arms business took him, he cleared his schedule. He wore a dark, formal suit and accompanied Silvia to the cemetery, where they knelt in silence.

Dante had spoken of it plainly. His biological mother died in childbirth. Rosetta, his nanny, raised him as her own and gave him the care he'd otherwise never known. She later died protecting him.

That exchange of lives became a burden he carried with him always, and he'd never dare forget it.

By 6:00 am, Silvia was already kneeling before the grave. She remained there through the slow hours, from early light to noon, until dusk settled in.

Cold had worked its way into her bones. Rain weighed down the bandage, soaked through and pulled at her skin, while the wound beneath it throbbed with a bloated, stinging ache that had gone nearly numb.

She took out her phone and placed the 33rd call.

"Sorry. The number you have dialed…"

It was the first time Dante was absent.

She was just about to text him when Lucia's update appeared without warning. The caption was all hearts, followed by a single sentence.

"Thank you, Dante, for helping me find my childhood again. This is the happiest day of my life!"

A carousel of nine photos showed none of the cold cemetery or the rain. They showed a carousel, cotton candy, and a fireworks display.

Dante wasn't wearing his usual suit. He had on a casual matching outfit that leaned almost juvenile, a pink balloon in his hand.

His eyes held no menace now. All that remained was his open affection for Lucia.

The photo in the center was taken at the highest point of the Ferris wheel. Fireworks burst across the sky behind them.

Inside the narrow car, Dante, the man everyone feared, cupped Lucia's face and kissed her deeply.

It was Rosetta's death anniversary. Silvia knelt in mud and rain for 12 hours waiting for him, and he spent the day with Lucia at an amusement park, kissing her high above the ground.

This was what "never dare forget" looked like in practice.

…

It was late at night when Silvia returned home.

Dante was seated with ointment in hand, gently working it into Lucia's ankle. "You must've had too much fun today. Your skin's rubbed raw."

The tone carried reproach, but his touch remained gentle.

Silvia entered at that moment. She brought the cold in with her and dropped her phone hard onto the coffee table.

"Do you even remember what day it is?"

Dante kept his focus on Lucia's ankle. His face stayed calm. "I do. It's Rosetta's death anniversary."

Silvia pointed at the rain streaking down the window. For the first time, she lost control and shouted at him, "Then, why weren't you there? I waited for you at the cemetery the entire day!

"My mother died saving you. She was blown to pieces for it! And on her death anniversary, you were kissing another woman on a Ferris wheel?"

Lucia looked startled. "Mi dispiace, Silvia. I wasn't feeling well today. I started thinking about my parents who passed away—"

Silvia cut her off, eyes cold, "Zitta! This isn't your place to speak!"

Dante moved Lucia behind him and finally lost his temper.

"Silvia Serra! Are you out of your mind? Lucia broke down today. She almost had a depressive episode. If I didn't stay with her, was I supposed to let her spiral?"

Silvia answered with a bleak smile, "What kind of illness gets cured by kissing someone else's husband? If you're so clear on priorities, why didn't you die in my mom's place back then?"

"Living people matter more than the dead!"

The blunt reply struck hard, breaking through everything Silvia had been holding together.

"Try to think rationally, Silvia. Rosetta's been gone for years. Whether I visit her or not, she can't feel it. That's something the living do for themselves. But Lucia's here. She's sensitive.

"She needs someone to protect her. You expect me to abandon her for some ritual meant for the dead?"

Silvia trembled, her chest rising and falling out of rhythm.

"If my mom hadn't shielded you with her own body, you'd be the one lying in the mud right now, waiting for people to perform empty rituals, Dante Valenti!"

Dante snapped like he'd heard it too many times already. "Enough! The Valenti family took you in and gave you the title of Donna Valenti. That settled that debt long ago! Stop guilt-tripping me with Rosetta's death!

"If Rosetta were alive and knew what Lucia's going through, she'd understand. She was loyal and kind. She wouldn't cling to old scores the way you do!"

Rosetta's life, and the last words she left Silvia with, the charge to protect Dante at all costs, were reduced to nothing but guilt-tripping.

He had broken their marriage vows, and he'd abandoned the very sense of honor the family held sacred, all for Lucia.

Silvia chose not to argue further. She studied him for a long time before saying, "You make me sick."

Dante turned a little, avoided her gaze, and said through clenched teeth, "Think whatever you want."