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.

The next day, our wedding anniversary arrived.

I woke before sunrise and went downstairs before the kitchen staff had even started the day. For once, I wanted to make Vincent breakfast with my own hands.

When he walked into the kitchen and saw me standing at the stove, he crossed the room in seconds, snatched the spatula from my hand, and pulled me against his chest, half angry, half frightened.

“What are you doing in here? You’re pregnant. You shouldn’t be standing over a hot stove. Where’s the staff?”

“Today’s our anniversary,” I said softly. “I wanted to be alone with you for a little while.”

His eyes reddened at once. He buried his face in my hair and held me as if I might vanish the moment he let go.

“I should be the one doing this for you. All I want in this life is for my wife to be happy. Every single day.”

If Isabella hadn’t shown me the truth, I might have believed I was the luckiest woman alive.

But the blood oath had already been broken. There was no going back.

Just then, the phone he had left on the kitchen counter lit up and began to vibrate.

I glanced at the screen, then picked it up and handed it to him.

“You have a message.”

Vincent tensed for a split second, then relaxed when he saw my calm expression.

“That’s my girl. Never checks my phone, never gives me grief. Trusts me.”

He thought I was noble.

He thought I was naive.

He never imagined I knew every single detail of his betrayal.

He’d hidden behind my trust, making up endless excuses to slip away and be with her.

Every time she called, he ran.

Isabella had just texted me, gloating that she was pregnant, that my greatest leverage was gone, that she would be the one to sit on the Castellano throne.

She told me Vincent was taking her for a “prenatal checkup” that morning, and had promised to find a way to make me accept her child as my own.

Vincent read the message, then turned back to me, his voice smooth.

“Baby, I have to go. Those Moretti bastards are making trouble on the docks again...”

I didn’t call him out on his lie. I just smiled up at him.

“Be careful. And when you get back, don’t forget to open the anniversary gift on the coffee table. It’s for you.”

Vincent kissed the top of my head, grabbed his gun from the hall table, and hurried out the door.

The second his car pulled out of the driveway, I sent my steward a one-word text: Execute.

Then I placed my phone, along with every photo, video, and chat log Isabella had ever sent me, into the hand-carved wooden box. My anniversary gift to Vincent.

By the time he opened it, Seraphina Corleone would already be dead.

I picked up my pre-packed bag, and got into the unmarked car waiting at the gate.

As we passed Seraphina Private Hospital, I saw Vincent’s Rolls-Royce parked outside.

He was already there.

I watched him go around to the passenger side and help Isabella out with the same care he had once reserved for me.

Beneath the gold letters of the hospital built in my name, my husband escorted his mistress inside for her prenatal checkup.

My steward met my eyes in the rearview mirror.

“Donna, should I stop?”

I looked at Vincent one last time.

At the hospital.

At the woman beside him.

At the life I had once mistaken for love.

Then I turned away.

“No,” I said. “Keep driving.”

Let him go to her.

Let him lie to me one last time.

Let him open the box and learn what his betrayal had cost him.

From this moment on, Seraphina Corleone no longer existed.

She died on her wedding anniversary.