The day I found out I was pregnant with twins, Vincent Castellano celebrated like a man who had been handed heaven.

Fireworks over Brooklyn. Vows whispered against my stomach. Promises that his empire, his loyalty, and his life were mine.

That same day, I found out the hospital built in my name had been sheltering his affair.

While I was throwing up and fighting to keep our babies safe, he was holding another woman in the next room.

So I made my choice.

I would keep the twins.

But Vincent Castellano would lose all three of us.

The day I went for the abortion, I brought only the Cassella family’s most loyal steward to an unmarked private clinic deep in Queens, off the Castellano family’s books entirely.

A young nurse kept stealing glances at me before leaning over to whisper to her colleague, “Isn’t that Donna Castellano? Why on earth would she be here alone for this?”

Her colleague yanked her arm sharply. “Shut your mouth. The Don built her an entire private hospital. That can’t be her. You’re seeing things.”

“Ma’am, if you could just sign here,” the nurse said, her voice cutting through my thoughts.

I lowered my eyes to the consent form.

On the television across the room, an interview with Vincent was playing on a loop.

The notoriously cold-blooded Don of New York’s most powerful crime family looked into the camera with a tenderness few people in the world had ever seen.

“My wife is carrying twins,” he said, his voice softening. “Watching how hard this pregnancy is on her breaks my heart. Once the babies are born, everything I own belongs to her and our children.”

The nurse let out a quiet sigh, her eyes full of envy.

“You’ll never find another man like Mr. Castellano in all of New York. They’ve been inseparable since they were kids. When the Cassella family was ambushed, he defied his own blood, wiped out the enemy compound, and proposed to her that same night.”

My pen froze above the paper.

I remembered it all too well.

When I was a child, the Cassellas were betrayed from within, and my parents were slaughtered in cold blood. It was Vincent who had knelt before the heavens and sworn a blood oath to me that night.

“Seraphina, my life is yours. I will be your shield against every storm this world has to offer.”

For that promise, I had turned down an invitation to a top-secret national research laboratory, laid down my family’s legacy, and become his Donna.

In the end, he was the one who shattered that vow into a million pieces.

They were right, of course. Vincent Castellano had loved me with a devotion that made the whole city believe I was the luckiest woman alive.

I had been frail since childhood, so he built Seraphina Private Hospital for me, filled it with the finest medical minds on the East Coast, and opened its doors to the public free of charge in my name, all to earn blessings for my health.

He never knew that the very afternoon I confirmed the twins, I received explicit nude photos from his mistress, Isabella Rossi.

That was the moment I realized the hospital bearing my name had long since ceased to mean me.

During my first trimester, while I was hospitalized and drifting in and out of consciousness from violent morning sickness, Vincent had been in the room next door, tangled in the sheets with her.

The second I saw those photos, I knew these children did not deserve to be born into a marriage already rotting from the inside out.

The nurse spoke again, gentle now, but firm with professional warning.

“Ma’am, the twins are developing perfectly. Are you absolutely certain you want to go through with this? A twin termination carries significant health risks, and given your medical history, it could leave you unable to conceive again.”

Her words jolted me back to myself.

These children were innocent. They carried my blood, the last of the Cassella line.

What I wanted to destroy was not them. It was the life he had poisoned. Vincent was the one I should have cut out.

“I’ve changed my mind,” I said abruptly, turning to my steward. “We’re not doing this procedure.”

Once we were outside, I spoke again.

“Contact the professor at the lab. Tell him I accept his offer to join the classified project. And arrange a new identity for me. Completely clean. No ties to either family. No paper trail whatsoever.”

My steward hesitated for only a second before bowing his head in silent assent.

When the professor heard my decision, he texted me at once.

[Seraphina, I’m glad, though my heart aches for you. But you must understand: once you enter this project, you sever all contact with the outside world. Think carefully before you reply.]

His offer had not been new. He had asked me more than once over the years to join the project, and every time, I had refused for Vincent.

This time, I did not hesitate.

I replied at once, reaffirming my decision.

I knew better than anyone how all-consuming Vincent Castellano’s need for control was.

He would tear the world apart to find me.

And so there was only one way forward.

Seraphina Castellano had to vanish from this world completely.

When I returned to the villa, Vincent was already home.

He strode toward me, his voice thick with worry.

“Where were you? You weren’t answering your phone, you shook your security detail. I had half the crew out looking for you. I’m sorry, there was an emergency with the family......”

I turned my head slightly, pretending not to see the fresh hickey peeking out from the unbuttoned collar of his tailored dress shirt.

“Just went for a walk. Felt trapped in these four walls.”

He exhaled in relief, gesturing to the spread of pastries on the table. It were my favorites, from the patisserie right next to Seraphina Private Hospital, the only place in the city that made them exactly how I liked them.

“It’s my fault. I should’ve been here with you. It won’t happen again, I promise.”

Once, I would have taken this as irrefutable proof of his love.

The truth was, he’d just left Isabella’s arms at that very hospital. This was his guilty penance, a half-hearted offering for the sin he’d just committed.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. Another text from Isabella.

[Don’t think sitting on the Donna’s throne means you’ve won, she purred in the message. I’m the one he wants to wake up to every morning.]

I didn’t care about her petty games.

I only found the man before me utterly unfathomable.

He would spiral into a blind panic if I didn’t reply to his texts within minutes, yet while I carried his heirs and suffered through the agony of early pregnancy, he sought solace in another woman’s bed.

He’d even built her a goddamn hospital.

When I stayed silent, Vincent grew anxious, reaching for my hand.

“Baby, did I upset you? Hit me, yell at me, whatever you need to get it out. Just don’t bottle it up. You’ll hurt yourself, and the babies...”

His palm burned hot against mine, but all I felt was a violent wave of nausea.

I wrenched my hand away and doubled over, retching violently.

I knew he had a severe, almost pathological hatred of mess, yet he didn’t hesitate for a second, stepping right behind me to hold my hair back.

Thankfully, I’d barely eaten in days; nothing came up but bitter bile that stung my throat and brought stinging tears to my eyes.

He swept me up into his arms, carrying me up the grand staircase and laying me gently on our bed with infinite care.

I believed his concern in that moment was real.

But so was his betrayal.

That night, my steward sent me a secure message. He’d finalized every detail with the professor, secured my new identity, and prepared every element of my staged death: the registered vehicle, pre-prepared DNA samples, the extraction route, the boat waiting on the Hudson. All was in place.

That night, I told Vincent I wasn’t feeling well and shut myself off from him.

He had the housekeeper make me a tonic from my mother’s old recipe.

Since I’d conceived, he wouldn’t let me do a single thing, not dry my hair, not bend down to pick up a pen, not even open a car door for myself.

The maids always whispered:“A man like the Don is one in a million.”

“When Donna has the baby, he’ll pluck the stars right out of the sky for her.”

Vincent heard them, stepped outside to make a quick call, then returned to me with a smile. “Darling, I’m taking you to the Hayden Planetarium this weekend. Rented the whole thing out. I got you a gift. I had a star named after you. The catalog number’s our wedding date.”

“Seraphina, I know you’ve been low these last few weeks. I know this pregnancy is hell on you, and I hate that I can’t take the pain away. All I can do is to make you smile.”

He sat beside me, his voice softening.

He would never know those two lives almost never made it into the world at all.

When the weekend came, Vincent had the entire planetarium lit only with the projected night sky, just for the two of us.

He held my hand as we walked through the starlit halls, pointing out constellations for me.

“Look right there,” he said.

“That’s your star. A testament to our love. When the children are born, we’ll bring them here, and tell them how their mama and papa’s love is as eternal as the stars themselves.”

Just then, his phone buzzed in his pocket.

He glanced at the screen, his jaw tightening for a split second, then turned to me with that apologetic look I’d come to loathe.

“I’m sorry, baby. Family emergency. I have to go handle it. I’ll be back before you know it, I swear.”

Seconds after he walked out the door, my phone buzzed.

A photo from Isabella.

Another framed star-naming certificate, this one emblazoned with Vincent & Isabella.

Her text followed a moment later: [Wondering if he’d rather stargaze with you, or have a little fun with me under the starlight roof in that Rolls you got him for his birthday? He’s on his way over right now, Donna.]

A fist closed around my heart, squeezing so tight I could barely breathe. That car, the custom Rolls-Royce Phantom, had been my birthday gift to him. He’d spent a fortune modifying the starlight roof, carving our initials into the leather, saying the stars would bear witness to our blood oath.

Now it was the backdrop for his infidelity.

A video followed right after.

Isabella lay in the passenger seat, the starlight glowing behind her as she smirked into the camera. “He says it’s thrilling,” she whispered.

“Like doing it right in front of your face. I suggested we do it in your bed, while you sleep. Think he said yes?”

I gripped my phone so hard my knuckles turned white, hot tears spilling down my cheeks before I could stop them.

When Vincent returned and saw me crying, he panicked instantly, his hands flying to my shoulders.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Don’t you like the gift? Did I do something? Did someone touch you? Tell me who it is, and I’ll put a bullet in their head tonight.”

His concern was identical to that of the boy who’d taken a bullet to the ribs to keep me from getting hurt when we were kids.

But that same boy had grown into the man who’d hurt me worse than any rival crew ever could.

I lifted my tear-streaked face, choking back the sob in my throat.

“No… I just love the gift so much. I’m overwhelmed.”

I forced a weak, wobbly smile.

“As a thank you, I have a surprise for you too. You’ll get it in a few days, on our anniversary.”

Vincent let out a huge sigh of relief, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead, and held me tight.

“You silly girl. I’d give you the whole world just to see you smile. If you love the stars, I’ll build you a whole goddamned planetarium. When the babies come, we’ll live quiet, like we always wanted. No more wars, no more crews. Just us.”

He rambled on about a future that no longer included me.

Just then, my burner phone buzzed in my purse.

A secure message from the professor had come through.

[Security clearance approved. Identity transfer protocol has passed final review. Once signed, all records connected to your current identity will be sealed and inaccessible for ten years. No public, legal, medical, financial, or government trace will remain. Confirm signature.]

My thumb hovered over the screen for less than a second.

Ten years?That was not enough.

If Vincent Castellano could choose Isabella, then I could choose disappearance.

Not for ten years.For the rest of my life.

I signed without a moment’s hesitation.

Then I lifted my eyes to the man still holding me and smiled faintly against his shoulder.

Vincent Castellano, tomorrow, I will vanish from your world forever.