A stranger from the party took me to St. Anne's Hospital. The Lucchese Family controlled the place, but when the nurse pushed me into the emergency room, it was almost empty.

She made three calls. With each one, her face grew paler. "The trauma surgeon and the head of obstetrics were called to the top floor. Miss Serena was frightened, so the Godfather wants a full examination."

Blood seeped from my leg into the sheets. Pain tightened low in my stomach again and again.

I caught the nurse's wrist. "Don't let them know I'm pregnant. Save my baby."

She froze, then nodded with red eyes.

Before I passed out, I thought I heard Damian's voice at the end of the hall.

"Where is she?"

Someone answered, "Sir, Miss Serena is still waiting for you."

His footsteps stopped for one second, then moved away.

When I woke up, two days had passed. The nurse told me that if I had arrived ten minutes later, the baby would have been gone.

There were no missed calls from Damian. No message. Not even a question.

Only two new alerts waited inside my encrypted app.

The first was a video. In the garage, Serena opened my gift box, removed the ruby bracelet, and replaced it with the bloodstained bullet and the black card. Then she leaned close to a Lucchese guard and gave him an order. When the party fell into chaos, that same guard deliberately drove his shoulder into me.

The second file was an investigation. Five years ago, Serena had not run because she feared marriage. She had stolen the Vega ledger and eloped with the heir of a rival family. Now she was pregnant with that man's child, abandoned, and back in New York because she needed Damian's name to cover the scandal.

The last message read: The private plane is ready. Passport, new identity, and offshore accounts are in place. Say the word, and you leave on the wedding day.

I replied: As planned.

That evening, Serena sent me an invitation. Groom: Damian Lucchese. Bride: Serena Vega.

On the back, in her looping handwriting, she had written: Eve, Damian promised me the grandest wedding in New York. You have to come. After hiding as Mrs. Lucchese for five years, you should see with your own eyes which woman he truly can't let go of.

I read it once and dropped it into the trash.

She had no idea that from the moment I died in that snowstorm, I had stopped waiting for Damian to turn around.

The next day, Damian came.

He stood beside my bed with faint red lines in his eyes, as if he had not slept for nights. Yet the first thing he said was, "You still won't apologize to Serena?"

I looked at him quietly.

"She was terrified," he said. "The doctors said she can't handle any more stress. You're her sister. Is it really so hard to lower your head once?"

"So the wedding is my apology?" I asked.

"It's not a real wedding. It's a show, something decent for her to stand on. You're still my wife. That won't change."

I almost laughed. His signature was already on the divorce papers. He simply didn't know it yet.

At last, he seemed to remember I was injured. His brows drew together. "How's your leg?"

"Fine."

"You always do this. It hurts, and you say you're fine. You're wronged, and you say you're fine. Eve, what the hell do you want from me?"

In my last life, I had wanted him to claim me, to defend me in front of my parents, to choose me over Serena just once.

Now I wanted nothing.

"You don't have to do anything," I said.

"Show up on the wedding day. Once the ceremony is over, I'll make her move out. Your place won't change."

"All right."

He froze, as if all the comfort he had prepared got stuck in his throat.

His underboss knocked outside the door. "Sir, Miss Serena fainted during the gown fitting."

Damian rose at once. "Eve, don't disappoint me again."

The door closed.

I opened the encrypted chat.

[Pick me up at the North Hill helipad on the wedding day.]

The reply came at once: [Confirmed.]

On the day of the wedding, snow covered the private chapel of St. Michael's. Serena walked toward the altar in a priceless gown, holding my father's arm. Damian stood before the priest with the silver wolf badge on his chest, his face colder than the storm outside.

I sat in the last row, closest to the door.

As the priest began the vows, I looked down at my phone. The blue dot that marked the helicopter had already stopped at North Hill.

My father placed Serena's hand in Damian's. "I'm giving you my most precious daughter."

Damian did not take it right away. His gaze moved over the guests and suddenly landed on me.

It was as if he had finally noticed how quiet I had been all day.

Serena whispered, "Damian?"

I stood and slipped out through the side door.

The wind outside was brutal. I walked down the old stone steps toward the helipad. Behind me, another helicopter roared over the chapel. Black envelopes spilled from the sky like some obscene version of snow.

Inside every envelope was a copy of the signed divorce page, screenshots of Serena switching the gift box, and proof that she ordered the guard to hurt me.

The chapel erupted.

I shut off the feed.

A silver-gray helicopter waited in the snow with its rotors already turning. My lawyer stood by the open door and held out his hand.

"Ma'am, it's time to go."

I stepped inside. Before the door closed, I looked down at the chapel one last time. Serena was clutching Damian's hand, and the priest's voice broke apart in the wind.

"Damian Lucchese, do you take..."

The helicopter lifted off.

The roar swallowed whatever answer he gave. I didn't want to hear it anyway.

I lowered my head and placed my hand over my stomach.

In my last life, I died on a snowy night while they rushed toward their perfect reunion.

In this life, I would take my child and fly toward a dawn that belonged to us.