The phone rang sharply in the empty hospital room, slicing through the silence. It was my father, calling all the way from the family territory. He wasted no time unloading a storm of scolding.

"You're being reckless, Isabella!" his authoritative voice boomed through the receiver. "Damiano is the Don! A little attitude is normal. You're weakening our hand!"

In his eyes, my dignity and life were nothing more than dust in the face of family interests. I leaned against the pale hospital pillow, staring at the gray, smothered sky outside the window.

"Dad…" I interrupted him calmly. "The child you were counting on—the one meant to seal a century-old alliance between our families—has now turned into ashes."

Silence fell on the other end of the line, with just the faint buzz of electricity, as if it were mourning this quiet tragedy.

Not long after, a few of my uncles barged into the room. Their faces wore fake sympathy, but their eyes were glued to my stomach.

"What a shame… It was a boy."

"How could you be so careless, Isabella?"

"Damiano may be at fault, but how could you fail to protect your child as a mother?"

Every word was an accusation, every sentence a judgment. To them, I hadn't lost a child but the family's bargaining chip.

"Don't worry," said the eldest uncle, patting my shoulder in a forced show of comfort. "We'll make him answer for this. Besides, you're still young. There will be more babies in the future."

I looked coldly at these old men, soaked in greed. "No answering needed."

I straightened slowly, scanning every face in the room. "I'm ending this marriage."

The words hit them like a bullet. My mother-in-law, Elena Gallo, stood in the corner and muttered under her breath, "What a disgrace! She can't even give birth to a child, and now she wants to talk about divorce?"

Giuseppe Vito, my father-in-law, wasn't that happy either. He dialed Damiano's satellite phone, which connected this time. The background was noisy and chaotic.

"What now?" Damiano snapped angrily, like someone had ruined his mood.

Giuseppe switched the call to speaker mode and shoved the phone toward me. "Talk to him yourself."

I stared at the glowing screen. "The baby is gone."

There was a pause on the other end of the line, but Damiano's roar soon cut through. "Enough already, Isabella! To make me bow, you're going as far as to make up a lie like this? I already dealt with Bianca!

"To prove my loyalty to you, my hands are bloody. So, why are you still holding onto the past? Do you have any idea how frustrating it is, dealing with all this crap outside? Can't you just be more understanding?"

Not once did he ask about my condition or—if it was true—where the baby had been buried.

I remembered every day and night of the past five months—how I struggled through depression yet was unable to take sleeping pills because of the pregnancy and had to stare at the ceiling until dawn.

Meanwhile, he slept soundly in the next room, sometimes I could hear other women's laughter.

Tears welled up in my eyes. By then, Dad and Mom had arrived at the hospital. Not only did they not offer me a simple hug, but they also sided with the uncles.

"You want a divorce? Don't even dream about it!" Mom scolded me. "If you dare to leave him, I'll cast you out of the Cappa family!"

This was my family, the clan I had fought so hard to protect.

Rage ignited in my chest. I grabbed the water pitcher and hurled it at the wall, creating a loud bang. Shards exploded everywhere, water splashing across the floor.

A few of my uncles stumbled back, startled, staring at me in shock.

Standing in the wreckage, eyes blazing, I roared, "Then cast me out! From today on, my life will finally belong to me! No one gets to pull my strings anymore—no one!"

Once my strength had returned enough, I yanked the IV from the back of my hand. I slipped into a black, form-fitting gown and tucked the agreement into my clutch bag.

I made my way to Damiano's office building in the heart of the city—Dominion Tower. The elevator shot upward, and with a sharp chime, I arrived at the top floor.

The moment the doors opened, a familiar scent hit me. It was a sickeningly sweet and cheap perfume, Bianca's favorite brand. My stomach clenched violently, nausea rolling over me like old waves.

I shoved the heavy door open without hesitation. The office was dim, shadows stretching across the floor, with only the massive floor-to-ceiling windows letting in a sliver of daylight.

On the leather couch was the very woman who should've been dead. She sat on Damiano's lap, smiling as she drew a circle on his chest. "Amore mio, you're so tricky…"

The moment Damiano saw me, he stiffened like he had been electrocuted, shoving Bianca behind him in a panic. I instinctively stepped back and covered my mouth and nose.

So, this was the real truth. All that talk about killing the traitor for me, about proving loyalty, had all been a lie. Not only had he not harmed her, but he had even kept her in the most conspicuous place, laughing at my stupidity.

"I-Isabella, what are you doing here?" he stuttered, fumbling with his rumpled shirt collar and trying to look composed.

I stared at him quietly, then hurled the agreement I had pulled out from my bag at him. "Sign it."

He frowned and picked it up before his gaze fell on my stomach. The curve that should've carried his heir was now flat. His eyes widened in shock.

"Is the baby really… gone?" Damiano asked, his voice shaking with disbelief.

I didn't answer him and stayed silent.

"Let me explain!"

He rushed toward me, desperate, trying to grab my hand. "Keeping Bianca was to control the rival family! It's politics! You know how tense things are right now… You cannot let their lies blind you. I only ever care about you!"

Bianca cowered behind him, her eyes instantly brimming with tears, playing the helpless victim. "Don't blame him, Isabella. It's all my fault…"

She trembled, staggering backward, only to crash into the bookcase behind her. The old shelf was unstable, and with her weight, it toppled with a deafening crash.

"Watch out!"

Damiano reacted instinctively, lunging forward and using his own back to shield Bianca. The noise was thunderous, with dust filling the air. I stood frozen, coughing as the particles stung my throat.

Yet, despite everything, Damiano only had eyes for Bianca.

"Are you hurt?" he asked warily.

Then, following the commotion, a private ledger slipped from the top of the fallen bookcase. It hit the floor, and out came a used condom package.

That was Damiano's way of ending things with Bianca, wasn't it?

A violent surge of nausea took hold of me. He seemed to notice something and turned around, intending to hold me steady.

"Get away from me!" I yelled, slapping his outstretched hand away and bolting into the restroom.

The violent vomiting had left me weak and barely conscious. In the end, I was rushed to the family's private clinic. As soon as my parents heard, black armored cars piled up at the entrance, nearly blocking it entirely.

Fate, as always, had a cruel sense of irony. Damiano's car pulled up, too.

He carefully helped Bianca out. A tiny adhesive bandage on her knee was the only damage—a scratch, but I was the one lying on a gurney, hooked to an IV.

Mom's face paled. She might care about the family business, but at that moment, her maternal instinct overrode everything. "Grab her!"

Her hand flicked toward the bodyguards behind her. Two of them lunged forward, yanking Bianca roughly into their grip. Then, Mom slapped her harshly across the face.

"Puttana! How dare you destroy the alliance between our families!"

Clutching her swollen cheek, Bianca trembled violently, screaming as she shrank into Damiano's arms. "I'm scared, Damiano… Help me…"

Damiano looked down at his shaken mistress, the brutality in his eyes erupting all at once. He wrapped an arm around her and soothed her softly. "Don't be afraid. I'm here. No one gets to touch you."

She lifted her tear-streaked face, voice breaking as she played her part. "It's all my fault… I shouldn't have shown up… You and Isabella should just live your lives in peace. I'm willing to sacrifice myself…"

That was all it took to light the fuse.

Damiano spun around, yanking a gold-plated pistol from his waistband. The black muzzle was leveled straight at my parents.

"Get the hell out of here, all of you!" he roared. "You're forcing an innocent life to death! She's just a woman! Do you people have any humanity left?"

Right there, in front of everyone, he barked an order to the underboss, "Cut off every single air route tied to the Cappas—now! I want them to understand the price of laying a hand on my people."

The place erupted in chaos. I forced myself upright, climbed off the gurney, and grabbed the barrel of his gun. "Are you insane? That's my family's lifeline! You're declaring war!"

Damiano's eyes turned frosty. He shoved me aside with a sharp push. I stumbled back, slamming into the gurney, bones aching.

"No amount of profit matters more than Bianca's tears," he said, looking down at me like I was nothing.

Dad's phone buzzed instantly with a confirmation that the air routes had been cut. His face darkened, fury burning behind his eyes, and he ended the call. "Fine! Very well! You act without mercy, so don't expect me to play fair!"

He spun to his bodyguards, bellowing, "Get ready. We're going to war!"

Beside him, Mom trembled with rage. "This marriage was a mistake! You'll pay for this!"

I took in the scene before me, then reached up and tore the ruby necklace—once a symbol of my status as the Madre—from my neck. Hurling it at Damiano's feet, I seethed, "Let the war begin."

I turned my back on him. "I'll make him pay for this. I'll strip him of everything he has and use his ruin as an offering to my dead child."