I strode through the front entrance of Marino Tech without slowing down.

By the time I reached the executive floor, two large glass doors stood between me and my office.

Bianca was waiting in front of them.

The sight of her made my stomach turn.

She was wearing the designer dress I had bought her several months earlier after she'd shown up at my house in tears, confessing she was about to be evicted because she couldn't pay her rent. I had even invented the role of Executive Assistant so she could have a stable paycheck.

Now she stood there like a loyal guard dog, keeping me away from the office that belonged to me.

"You can't go in there, Sam," she said, folding her arms.

"Step aside, Bianca," I replied evenly, refusing to raise my voice. "I have a meeting with Ms. Harrington and the investors in less than ten minutes."

"Lorenzo told everyone you're on medical leave," she answered without moving an inch. "He's leading the meeting today. You should head home and get some rest. You're... not in the right condition."

I walked closer until we were barely a foot apart.

"I'm the founder of this company," I said. "I'm also the majority shareholder. Move, or consider this your termination."

A smug smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

"You don't have the authority anymore," she said. "Lorenzo's the one signing payroll now."

I refused to waste another second arguing with her.

I stepped past her and reached for the door handle.

Suddenly, Bianca hurled herself sideways.

The performance would've been laughable if it hadn't been so calculated.

My sleeve barely grazed her arm, yet she let out an exaggerated scream before throwing herself onto the carpet. She grabbed her ankle dramatically and cried out in pain.

"Please... Alessandra, stop!" she sobbed loudly.

The conference room doors burst open.

Lorenzo rushed out first, followed closely by Ms. Harrington and the rest of the board members.

He hurried to Bianca's side and knelt beside her.

"Bianca?" he asked urgently. "What happened?"

With tears pooling in her eyes, she pointed a trembling finger toward me.

"She pushed me," she whispered between fake sobs. "I only told her she couldn't interrupt the meeting, and she lost control. She shoved me."

"That's a lie," I said immediately. "She threw herself onto the floor."

Lorenzo slowly rose to his feet, wearing an expression of perfectly rehearsed outrage.

"Alessandra," he said, shaking his head in disappointment. "Have you really reached the point where you're assaulting employees? Assaulting your own best friend?"

"She stopped being my friend a long time ago."

Ignoring him, I turned directly to the investors.

"Ms. Harrington, I apologize for this interruption," I said. "My husband is trying to force me out by convincing everyone that I'm mentally unstable. None of it is true, and I'm fully prepared to conduct today's meeting."

Ms. Harrington looked visibly uneasy.

Her eyes drifted from Bianca, who was still pretending to cry on the floor, back to me.

"Alessandra..." she began carefully. "We were informed about what happened at the police station... and about your psychiatric admission."

"There was never anything wrong with me," I replied firmly. "The entire situation was manipulated."

Before she could answer, Lorenzo stepped in.

"She's experiencing another episode," he said gravely. "Can't you see it? Look at her. She's manic."

He turned toward the board with an apologetic sigh.

"I'm truly sorry all of you have to witness this. I'll take care of my wife. Please go back inside while I handle the situation."

Then his voice rang through the hallway.

"Security."

The two guards stationed near the elevators glanced at one another.

I'd known both of them for years.

Neither moved immediately.

Lorenzo addressed Ms. Harrington with calm professionalism.

"According to our corporate bylaws," he explained, "if Alessandra is medically unfit to perform her duties, executive authority temporarily transfers to her spouse until she's cleared to return. That makes me acting CEO."

"I understand," Ms. Harrington replied quietly.

She gave me a sympathetic look that somehow hurt more than outright condemnation.

"Alessandra... perhaps going home would be best. We can't afford instability during negotiations for a merger this important."

I looked around the hallway.

Not one person saw the woman who had founded Marino Tech.

They saw a problem.

A risk.

If I exploded, Lorenzo would have exactly the reaction he wanted.

If I fought back physically, I'd only strengthen his story.

Slowly, I relaxed my clenched hands.

"Very well," I said, my voice colder than ice. "Enjoy the meeting, Lorenzo."

I held his gaze.

"This is far from over."

Without another word, I turned and walked away.

As I reached the elevators, I caught Bianca flashing me a triumphant smile before Lorenzo helped her hobble theatrically into my office.

My office.

I spent the rest of the afternoon alone inside the mansion, quietly packing my belongings into moving boxes.

Just after six o'clock, I heard the front door open.

"Alessandra?"

Lorenzo's voice carried through the foyer.

I stepped onto the upstairs landing and looked down.

He had one arm wrapped around Bianca's waist, helping her inside.

Her ankle was wrapped neatly in a spotless elastic bandage that looked as though it had come straight out of its packaging.

I folded my arms.

"What is she doing here?"

"She's staying with us for a while," Lorenzo answered casually as he settled her onto the living room sofa. "With the ankle injury you caused, she can't manage the stairs to her apartment. Besides, someone needs to keep an eye on you while I'm working."

I gave a humorless laugh.

"Keep an eye on me? I'm neither a child nor an inmate."

He shrugged while removing his suit jacket.

"You're emotionally unstable," he replied matter-of-factly. "Bianca offered to help. She'll make your meals and remind you to take your medication."

"I'm not taking medication," I shot back. "And I certainly don't want her living in my house."

"Our house," Lorenzo corrected smoothly. "Seriously, why are you making such a big deal out of this? She's been your best friend since kindergarten."

He looked at me with practiced innocence, as though he hadn't spent the past week systematically destroying my life.

As though he hadn't forced me onto our bed.

As though I hadn't seen every photograph exposing his affair.

A memory surfaced before I could stop it.

Bianca and I sitting cross-legged on our dorm room floor, splitting instant noodles because neither of us could afford anything else.

Bianca holding my hair while morning sickness left me kneeling over a toilet during my first pregnancy.

Bianca wrapping me in her arms after I miscarried.

"I'll never leave your side, Sam. Sisters before misters, remember?"

The memory felt like a blade twisting deeper into my chest.

"We're not friends anymore," I said quietly as I descended the staircase.

"Oh, don't be so dramatic," Bianca replied sweetly from the couch, carefully elevating her supposedly injured foot. "I know you're overwhelmed right now, Sammy. You don't have to lash out. I've already forgiven you for pushing me."

I stopped directly in front of her.

"You've forgiven me?"

She smiled with infuriating sweetness.

"Of course. I know you didn't mean it."

I looked straight into her eyes.

"The moment you climbed into bed with my husband, you stopped being anything to me."

Silence swallowed the room.

Lorenzo froze beside the liquor cabinet.

Bianca's smile disappeared.

"I... I don't know what you're talking about," she stammered, instinctively looking toward Lorenzo. "See? She's doing this again. She's imagining things."

"I've read every message," I said. "I've seen every picture. Remember calling me a 'frigid bitch'? Or have you conveniently forgotten that too?"

Bianca recoiled against the cushions.

"You're sick," she cried. "None of that happened! You're inventing things!"

"That's enough!" Lorenzo thundered, slamming his hand against the wet bar with enough force to make the glasses rattle. "Stop harassing her! You're completely out of control!"

"No," I shouted back. "I'm the woman who covered her rent when she had nowhere to go. I'm the one who handed her a career when every company turned her away. And this is how she repays me? By sleeping with my husband?"

"She's going to attack me again!" Bianca shrieked, tears streaming down her face with suspiciously perfect timing. "Lorenzo, she's dangerous!"

Something inside me finally broke.

"Dangerous?" I repeated quietly.

A bitter laugh escaped my lips.

"You haven't seen dangerous yet."

Before either of them could react, I swung my hand.

The slap cracked across Bianca's face so loudly that the sound echoed through the cavernous living room.

The bedroom door slammed shut behind me.

A second later, I heard the deadbolt slide into place.

The sound echoed through the guest room, making one thing painfully clear.

I was locked in.

My face throbbed where Lorenzo had struck me. He'd dismissed it as an instinctive reaction, insisting he'd only slapped me to "bring me back to my senses" after I hit Bianca. Looking at the angry bruise spreading across my cheek, I knew exactly what it really was.

Abuse.

I lowered myself onto the edge of the bed and stared blankly at the closed door.

My phone had disappeared.

My laptop was gone too.

Inside the house I had bought with my own money, I had become a captive, watched over by the husband who had betrayed me and the woman I had once considered family.

Time crawled by.

Outside the window, daylight slowly faded until the sun disappeared beneath the horizon. Shadows stretched across the walls, swallowing the room inch by inch.

My stomach twisted painfully.

The growl that escaped it reminded me I hadn't eaten anything since the previous day.

Eventually, I heard the lock disengage.

The door opened.

Bianca walked inside carrying a dinner tray.

An ice pack rested against the side of her face where I'd slapped her, but there wasn't a trace of misery in her expression. If anything, she looked pleased with herself.

"I brought you something to eat," she said cheerfully, placing the tray on the bedside table.

Chicken noodle soup.

It had always been my favorite comfort meal.

At least, it used to be.

"I'm not interested," I replied without looking at her.

"Oh, Alessandra." She sighed dramatically before sitting beside me on the mattress as though nothing had happened between us. "Don't be stubborn. You have to eat something. You're starting to look terribly thin."

"Leave."

Instead of listening, she leaned closer and lowered her voice.

"What if we stopped fighting?" she suggested almost playfully. "Maybe we should call a truce."

I finally turned to face her.

Really looked at her.

This was the same woman who had stood beside me as my maid of honor.

The same woman who had held me while I sobbed after another negative pregnancy test.

"A truce?" I repeated slowly. "You're sleeping with my husband."

She shrugged as though we were discussing the weather.

"So?"

Her fingers absentmindedly tugged at a loose thread on the quilt.

"We've shared everything since we were little girls, haven't we? Clothes, makeup, secrets..." She smiled. "Why should Lorenzo be any different? The three of us could make this work. We could live together like one happy family, just like old times."

Revulsion churned violently inside my stomach.

The nerve.

The complete lack of shame.

I wanted to scream until the walls shook.

Instead, I remembered what the attorney had told me.

Gather evidence.

Wait.

Survive.

Losing control now would only hand them another excuse to have me declared unstable.

I swallowed the bitter taste rising in my throat and forced myself to stay calm.

"You really believe that could work?" I asked quietly.

"Of course." Bianca smiled wider, something predatory flashing behind her eyes. "Lorenzo loves both of us. Just differently. I give him excitement." She tapped her temple before pointing at mine. "You give him intelligence. Together, we're exactly what he needs."

I nearly gagged.

Still, I made myself nod.

"Maybe..." I whispered. "Maybe you're right. I'm exhausted. I don't want to keep fighting anymore."

Bianca's entire face lit up.

"I knew you'd come around!" she exclaimed, clapping excitedly. "I'll tell Lorenzo right now. He's going to be so happy."

She hurried out of the room so quickly that she forgot to lock the door behind her.

About ten minutes later, Lorenzo stepped inside.

He studied me cautiously, clearly expecting another confrontation.

When he found me sitting quietly instead, the tension visibly left his shoulders.

"Bianca told me you're ready to apologize," he said.

I lowered my eyes.

"Yes," I answered.

It was the biggest lie I'd ever told.

"I'm sorry, Lorenzo. I don't know what happened to me. Everything that's been happening... the pressure... I just lost control."

"I know." His voice softened as he walked over and wrapped his arms around me.

Every muscle in my body stiffened.

I forced myself not to pull away.

"It's okay, sweetheart," he murmured. "We'll get through this. We'll be a family again."

Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet jewelry box.

"I bought you something."

He opened the lid.

A diamond necklace glittered beneath the bedroom light.

"I wanted you to have this," he said with a smile. "Think of it as a fresh start. Proof of how much I love you."

"It's beautiful," I said softly, allowing him to clasp it around my neck.

"Oh, and I bought Bianca one too," he added casually. "She's done so much to help lately. It only seemed fair."

We went downstairs together.

Bianca was already seated at the dining table.

Around her neck hung an identical necklace.

At first glance they looked exactly alike.

Then the chandelier caught the stones.

Mine reflected the light with a dull, cloudy shine.

Hers scattered brilliant flashes of color in every direction.

She was wearing genuine diamonds.

Mine were nothing more than cheap imitations.

His mistress received the real gift.

His wife received the counterfeit.

I silently took my seat, folding my hands tightly beneath the table.

Lorenzo lifted his wineglass.

"A toast," he announced. "To fresh starts."

Bianca smiled at him.

"To new beginnings."

Their glasses clinked together.

I raised mine as well but never took a sip.

Instead, I reached for the soup.

The first spoonful tasted wrong.

There was a strange metallic bitterness beneath the broth.

I forced myself to swallow.

Then I took another bite.

Almost immediately, my stomach cramped so violently that I doubled over.

"Alessandra?"

Lorenzo's voice sounded distant, as though he were standing at the other end of a tunnel.

"My stomach..." I gasped. "Something's wrong."

Agonizing pain tore through my abdomen.

I tried to stand.

My legs refused to obey.

The floor rushed toward me as I collapsed, retching uncontrollably.

"Oh my God," Bianca said.

She didn't leave her chair.

She simply watched while calmly taking another sip of wine.

"Call an ambulance!" I cried.

The dining room blurred.

Darkness crept into the edges of my vision.

For one terrifying moment, Lorenzo simply stared at me.

I watched the calculation flicker across his face.

Was it worth saving me?

Or would it be easier if I died right there?

The next thing I remembered was the rhythmic beeping of medical equipment.

The sharp scent of antiseptic filled my lungs.

My eyelids felt impossibly heavy.

I couldn't open them.

But I could hear.

"Is she dead yet?"

Bianca.

She sounded annoyed more than concerned.

"No," a man answered.

A doctor.

"She's stable now. It appears she suffered a severe toxic reaction. Either food poisoning or an interaction with the medication listed in her chart."

Bianca let out an irritated groan.

"Seriously? That bitch just refuses to die."

"Lower your voice," Lorenzo warned sharply.

"So what now?" Bianca asked. "She's going to wake up and blame the soup."

"We'll explain it away," Lorenzo replied smoothly. "We'll say the stress finally caught up with her. Her health has been deteriorating for weeks. It'll fit perfectly with everything else."

"And... the pregnancy?"

Bianca's voice dropped.

Silence followed.

Heavy.

Oppressive.

Then the doctor spoke.

"She never knew."

His tone was subdued.

"She was approximately eight weeks pregnant."

Everything inside me froze.

"She was?" Lorenzo asked.

"The pregnancy couldn't be saved," the doctor answered quietly. "The abdominal trauma combined with the toxins was simply too much. She miscarried."

My baby.

I hadn't even known.

After three heartbreaking miscarriages...

After years of doctor's appointments...

After finally giving up on ever becoming a mother...

There had been a child growing inside me.

And because of them...

My baby was gone.

Hot tears slipped from beneath my closed eyelids.

I didn't move.

I didn't make a sound.

I lay perfectly still while the three people responsible discussed my child's death as though they were solving a business problem.

"Well," Bianca said without an ounce of remorse, "that's one less complication. At least there won't be an heir getting in the way of the divorce."

"You're right," Lorenzo agreed without hesitation. "In the end, it's probably for the best."

A pause followed.

"Now all that's left is making sure she completely falls apart at her birthday party."

Inside, something hardened.

No.

That would never happen.

Because long before my birthday arrived...

I'd already be gone.

I lay motionless on the hospital bed, my eyes fixed on the blank white ceiling above me.

The empty expanse slowly became something else in my mind—a place where every plan, every move, every ounce of vengeance began to take shape.

My hand drifted to my stomach.

It was flat now.

Only hours ago, it had carried a life I never even knew existed.

Now there was nothing.

A faint vibration beneath my pillow pulled me back to reality.

I slipped out the burner phone and answered without hesitation.

"It's taken care of."

My aunt's voice came through the line, brisk as ever. She didn't waste time on condolences or gentle words. Efficiency had always been her love language.

"The divorce petition has already been filed. We invoked the emergency provisions based on domestic violence and financial fraud. Lorenzo won't know anything until someone personally serves him the papers."

I closed my eyes for a brief moment.

"What about the marriage?" I asked quietly, my throat still raw.

"Everything has been arranged."

She sounded as though she were discussing a board meeting rather than my future.

"The other family has agreed. Their son has less than a week before his thirty-fifth birthday. He must marry before then to secure his inheritance. You need protection just as much as he needs a wife. This isn't romance, Alessandra. It's business."

"I understand."

The words came easier than I expected.

"Who is he?"

"You'll meet him at the chapel on Fourth and Main exactly one hour from now."

She paused.

"Don't underestimate him. He's one of the most powerful businessmen in the country. Shipping, technology, real estate—his influence reaches everywhere. Compared to him, Lorenzo isn't even worth mentioning."

A humorless smile touched my lips.

"Perfect."

I tightened my grip on the phone.

"I don't need another husband."

I looked toward the window.

"I need someone capable of eating sharks."

"Then don't be late."

The call ended before I could reply.

I slowly pushed myself upright, swinging my feet over the side of the hospital bed.

Every movement pulled at the ache in my abdomen.

The pain was constant.

A reminder.

A punishment.

But it also kept my resolve burning.

The hospital room door creaked open.

I slipped the phone beneath my thigh just before Lorenzo walked inside.

He looked immaculate in a tailored navy suit.

Anyone passing by would have mistaken him for the picture-perfect husband devoted to his recovering wife.

His eyes immediately swept across the room.

"Who were you talking to?"

"No one."

The answer came too quickly.

I forced myself to hesitate.

"Actually..."

I lowered my gaze.

"It was a psychologist."

One of his eyebrows lifted.

"Really? Since when do you believe in therapy?"

I let my shoulders sag.

"I've had a lot of time to think."

The lie blended seamlessly with the exhaustion in my voice.

"Everything that's happened... especially the..." My voice caught.

"The baby."

That single word nearly shattered me.

The grief wasn't fake.

I simply used the truth to disguise another lie.

"Maybe you've been right all along," I whispered. "Maybe something really is wrong with me. I thought... maybe checking myself into a treatment center would help. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere I can finally get better."

The satisfaction that spread across Lorenzo's face made me sick.

His smile was slow.

Victorious.

"Oh, Sam."

He walked over and rested a hand on my shoulder.

"I'm proud of you."

His tone overflowed with false tenderness.

"This is the first sensible decision you've made in weeks. Things will be much easier once you accept the help you need."

"I know."

I stared at the blanket.

"I just want everything to stop hurting."

"It will."

He glanced down at the expensive watch on his wrist.

"The timing actually works out well. Bianca and I have an important client meeting this afternoon. Merger negotiations."

He straightened his jacket.

"We'll be gone for a few hours. You go speak with your doctor and arrange your admission."

"I will."

As he turned to leave, his hand tightened around my shoulder.

His fingers dug painfully into my skin.

"And Alessandra..."

His voice dropped.

"Don't do anything foolish."

His smile disappeared.

"If you try to disappear, I'll find you."

His grip tightened even more.

"And next time, don't expect the doctors to treat you so gently."

I met his eyes without flinching.

"I won't run."

Another lie.

"I'm finished fighting you, Lorenzo."

I forced a defeated smile.

"You've already won."

His expression softened instantly.

"That's my girl."

He kissed the top of my head.

Every instinct screamed at me to shove him away.

Instead, I remained perfectly still.

A moment later, he walked out of the room, casually whistling as though he hadn't just threatened my life.

I counted the minutes in silence.

Five.

Then another five.

Only when I was certain he'd left the hospital did I move.

Bianca had packed a change of clothes for me the previous day.

A plain gray dress hung loosely from my thinner frame.

I changed quickly, tucked the burner phone into my purse, and walked out of the room.

The nurses barely looked up from their station.

No one stopped me.

Outside, I flagged down the first taxi I saw.

"The old chapel at Fourth and Main," I told the driver.

The cab pulled away from the hospital.

Buildings drifted past the window in a blur.

Then I saw it.

A massive Marino Tech billboard.

My smiling face still overlooked the city, projecting confidence and success.

Soon, Lorenzo intended to replace it with his own.

Unless I destroyed him first.

The taxi stopped in front of a small stone chapel tucked between modern office towers.

Its weathered walls made it look centuries older than everything surrounding it.

It stood quietly against the skyline like it had been waiting for me.

After paying the fare, I stepped out.

The heavy wooden doors were already open.

Inside, the air was cool.

Rows of candles flickered softly near the altar, casting warm light across the ancient stone walls.

Someone was already there.

A man stood near the front of the chapel with his back turned toward me.

He was tall.

Broad across the shoulders.

The cut of his tailored suit alone probably cost more than my first car.

"Hello?"

My voice echoed through the empty chapel.

The man slowly turned around.

I stopped breathing.

This wasn't the stranger I'd expected.

Nor was he some unfamiliar billionaire arranged by my aunt.

Dark hair.

Piercing blue eyes.

A sharp jaw that looked even more defined than I remembered.

Time had made him older.

Stronger.

Harder.

But there was no mistaking him.

"Alessio..."

The name escaped in barely more than a whisper.

Alessio.

My first best friend.

The little boy who had lived next door before his family moved away when we were twelve.

The one who used to race me down the sidewalk, push me on the swings, and slip a ring woven from grass onto my finger while promising we'd get married someday.

His expression remained calm as he looked at me.

"It's good to see you again, Alessandra."

His voice was deeper now.

Smooth.

Steady.

It carried the richness of aged whiskey.

"It's been a very long time."

I blinked several times, still trying to convince myself he was real.

"You're... the man my aunt arranged for me to marry?"

I took another hesitant step toward him.

A faint smile touched one corner of his mouth.

"I'd rather call myself your business partner."

Then he nodded.

"But yes."

He folded his hands in front of him.

"My family requires a marriage before I can claim my inheritance."

His blue eyes held mine.

"And you need someone powerful enough to stand between you and Lorenzo."

He tilted his head slightly.

"It seems we can solve each other's problems."

I stared at him in stunned silence.

The boy who had once spent entire summers building treehouses with me had become one of the wealthiest and most influential men in the country.

And somehow...

He was offering me a way out.

Tears burned behind my eyes.

"Alessio..."

My voice trembled.

"Lorenzo... he destroyed—"

"I know."

He didn't let me finish.

His expression darkened as he closed the distance between us.

"I know exactly what he did."

His eyes never left mine.

"I know about every betrayal."

Another step.

"I know about the abuse."

Another.

"I know about your baby."

The last bit of strength holding me together nearly gave way.

"I'm here now, Sam."

His voice softened.

"And I promise you this..."

"We're going to take everything from him."

He extended his hand toward me.

A simple gold wedding band rested against his finger.

There was no hesitation in his gaze.

"No turning back after this," he said quietly.

"So..."

A small smile appeared.

"Are you ready to become my wife?"