In the pictures, Dante was shirtless. There were obvious love bites scattered along his neck. He was holding a little boy, around five years old, in his arms. The boy had a picture book clutched in his hands, while Dante lowered his head and read to him with a gentle, patient smile.

He looked relaxed.

Warm.

Like a devoted father.

I stared at those photos for a long time.

I didn't need to ask who had sent them.

A second later, another message came through.

[Serafina: He really is a great dad, isn't he?]

My vision blurred.

Rage churned in my stomach, mixing with disgust and a pain so deep it almost made me numb.

But I didn't reply.

I simply blocked the number.

At noon, I went to the bribed Catholic hospital alone and had the procedure done. The physician asked no questions. The nurses looked away. That was what Valente cash bought you: silence in a room full of saints on the walls.

No one accompanied me.

No one held my hand.

No one asked if I was scared.

After the procedure, my body was so weak that I had to rest for the entire afternoon before I could even stand without feeling like I might collapse.

I lay there in the sterile hospital room, surrounded by the sharp smell of disinfectant, and had more than enough time to think.

I thought about everything I had gained and everything I had lost in this alliance marriage.

I didn't want my child to be born into a family poisoned by resentment, lies, and betrayal.

I didn't want a baby to open their eyes to parents who shouted, deceived, and hurt each other until there was nothing left but bitterness.

If all I could offer that child was a broken home and a father whose heart belonged somewhere else, then perhaps not bringing them into this world was the only responsible choice I had left.

I refused to bury my head in the sand.

I refused to keep pretending I was happy with a husband who had betrayed me again and again.

I refused to smile through the lies while slowly drowning in them.

So I made my decision.

I would let Dante go.

Completely.

And for the rest of my life, I would learn how to love myself.

When I finally left the hospital, my body was still weak. I had to grip the railing as I slowly made my way down the steps, each movement draining what little strength I had left.

Then I saw him.

Dante stood not far away.

He was holding a little boy in one arm and gripping a woman's hand with the other.

Serafina.

Of course it was Serafina.

The woman who had taken everything I once believed was mine.

The three of them stood together in the afternoon sunlight, looking warm and complete. A man, a woman, and a child.

A perfect little family.

The sight was so painfully ironic that I laughed.

A sharp, bitter laugh escaped my throat and echoed against the hospital walls.

How pathetic.

How cliché.

I slowly raised my hands and clapped.

Once.

Twice.

"What a lovely family," I said, my voice filled with cold amusement. "Really. You three look perfect together."

Dante's head snapped up.

The moment he saw me, panic flashed across his face.

Almost immediately, he let go of Serafina's hand.

Then he frowned, as if trying to cover up the guilt that had already betrayed him.

"Adriana? What are you doing here?"

I looked at him and gave him a thin, humorless smile.

"Getting an abortion."

My voice was flat.

Calm.

Almost empty.

Then I looked at the boy in his arms. Matteo was sticking his tongue out at me, smug and childish, completely unaware of what had just happened.

"Congratulations," I said softly. "He's officially your father now. All yours."

Dante froze.

The color drained from his face.

He quickly set the boy down and stormed toward me, grabbing my arm so tightly that pain shot through my bones. The soldier standing six paces behind him shifted his weight but didn't move. No one intervened when the Underboss put his hands on his own wife.

"What are you talking about?" he demanded, his voice shaking. "You got rid of our baby? Are you out of your mind, Adriana?"

His grip was brutal, but I didn't flinch.

I only looked at him coldly.

"What do you think I'm talking about?"

Then I yanked my arm free and slapped him across the face with all the strength I had left.

The sound cracked through the hospital corridor.

Dante's face turned to the side from the force of it.

For a moment, he just stood there, stunned, his expression caught somewhere between shock and disbelief. No one slapped the Underboss of the Valente Family. Not soldiers, not rivals, not even the Don himself. But I did.

I stared at him and said, word by word, "We're done, Dante. I want a divorce."

Dante remained frozen, as if he couldn't believe I had actually hit him.

Serafina was the first to react.

She rushed to his side, cradling his face with both hands as if he were the one who had been wronged. Then she turned to glare at me, her eyes red and full of righteous anger.

"Adriana Bellandi! Look at what you've done to him! You've gone too far!"

"Too far?"

I let out a cold laugh.

Without a second of hesitation, I raised my hand and slapped her too.

The sound rang sharply through the sterile hallway.

Serafina screamed, stumbling back as she clutched her cheek in disbelief.

I looked at her, my voice icy.

"If that's too far, then what do you call tearing apart someone else's marriage? What do you call letting your son call another woman's husband Dad?"

Serafina's face went pale.

Before she could answer, Matteo rushed in front of her, spreading his arms wide as if to protect her. His small fist knotted in the cuff of his sleeve, knuckles white, eyes locked on the floor even as he shouted.

"Don't hurt my mommy!" he yelled, his little face twisted with fury. "You ugly witch!"

I looked at him and laughed bitterly.

"A witch?"

My gaze shifted back to Serafina.

"If I'm the ugly witch, then your mother is the mistress who lured away someone else's husband."

"Enough!"

Dante's furious roar cut through the hallway.

He stepped forward, his eyes burning with anger.

"Why didn't I realize before how crazy you are?"

By then, our argument had already drawn a crowd. Nurses, orderlies, visiting families. People gathered around us, whispering to one another.

"Is that the mistress?"

"She even brought the child?"

"Shameless."

"Disgusting."

The words spread through the crowd like sparks catching dry grass. Even here, even inside a hospital the Valente Family kept on retainer, the whispers moved faster than any enforcer could silence them.

Dante's face flushed red with embarrassment. Loss of face. In front of civilians. The one thing a man in his position could not afford.

Unable to contain his anger, he kicked a potted plant near his feet. The pot crashed to the floor, soil spilling everywhere.

"Adriana, nothing ever happened between me and Serafina!" he shouted, pointing a trembling finger at me. "She's right. You're completely out of control! I've been too soft on you, and this is what you've become!"

I looked at him, almost amazed by how shameless he could be.

Even now, he was still lying.

I took out my phone and opened the photos Serafina had sent me.

Then I turned the screen toward the crowd and zoomed in so everyone could see.

"Everyone, take a good look," I said, my voice cutting cleanly through the tense silence.

"This is my husband, half-naked at this woman's place in the middle of the night."

I enlarged the image again, focusing on the red marks on his neck.

"And these marks on his neck?"

I lifted my eyes to Dante, my smile cold and mocking.

"Don't tell me they're mosquito bites."

The hallway erupted.