Yet when Viviana merely complained about a slight stomachache, he would cancel sit-downs without hesitation and personally drive her to the discreet clinic on Mulberry.

I followed him into his office at the back of the social club, watching silently as he gently told Viviana to go rest in the private room behind the bar. His voice softened in a way I had rarely heard directed at me.

Once the door closed and we were alone, he walked over and grabbed my hand. His voice dropped, quieter now. "Still mad?"

I pulled my hand away, my tone calm but distant. "I told you, I'm not mad."

He frowned slightly, placing both hands on my shoulders. His gaze locked onto mine, searching for something. "Don't lie to me."

"I didn't come home last night, and you didn't even call or text," he said. "And you expect me to believe you're not upset?"

I looked at him, confused for a moment. "Viviana was with you, wasn't she?" I replied evenly. "She's your courier. She'd take care of you."

His expression darkened immediately, his grip tightening on my shoulders.

The pressure made me wince, and I instinctively tried to pull away. In the struggle, he pushed me onto the leather couch against the wall.

As I steadied myself, my hand brushed against something soft. I frowned slightly, reaching down to grab it.

When I pulled it out, I saw a pink lace bra tangled between the cushions.

The moment Dante saw it, the anger on his face vanished, replaced by something else. "That's…" he started, clearly trying to explain.

But I didn't care enough to listen.

I tossed the bra back onto the couch casually, my voice flat. "If there's nothing else, I'll be going, Mr. Moretti."

After hours, I had a sit-down scheduled with an outside associate. As I stepped out of the club onto the narrow sidewalk, a familiar black sedan pulled up in front of me.

The window rolled down, revealing Dante behind the wheel. "Get in," he said. "We'll drop Viv off first, then head to that seafood place by the waterfront."

Viviana leaned out slightly from the passenger seat, smiling brightly. "Sorry, Serena! I'm hitching a ride again!"

I was busy trying to flag down a cab, my attention elsewhere. Without even looking at her, I replied calmly, "You two go ahead. I'm allergic to seafood."

Dante's face darkened instantly. He knew that wasn't true. In fact, that place had always been one of my favorites.

He opened his mouth, clearly about to argue or question me.

But I didn't give him the chance.

I walked past his car without hesitation and got into a cab waiting across the street, leaving them behind without a second glance.

What I didn't expect was for Dante and Viviana to follow me all the way to the restaurant.

I had only come here for business, planning to meet my associate and keep everything strictly professional. But before Matteo Ricci even arrived, the two of them walked in together and casually sat down across from me, as if this were their table too.

For a moment, I just stared at them, unable to hide my disbelief. Then I took a slow breath and cut straight to the point. "I'm meeting Mr. Ricci from the gem trade," I said calmly, making it clear that they didn't belong here.

Dante simply raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair as if amused. "Did Mr. Ricci say he didn't want to see me?" he asked lightly, his tone carrying a hint of challenge.

I fell silent. There was no point arguing. No matter what, he was still the Don, and in front of an outside associate, I couldn't afford to create a scene.

When Matteo Ricci finally arrived, the atmosphere shifted slightly. During the meal, he casually instructed his man to open a bottle of expensive wine, the rich aroma filling the air as it was poured into glasses.

I frowned slightly, my mind drifting back to the doctor's warning when I had gone to the clinic to schedule the procedure.

"You've already had one miscarriage from the car accident," the doctor had said seriously, his voice low behind the closed door of the discreet family clinic where no names were recorded. "Your uterus is severely damaged. The fact that you're pregnant again is already a miracle."

"If you lose this baby, you may never have another chance."

Those words lingered in my mind, heavy and impossible to ignore. I pressed my lips together, about to politely refuse the wine.

Before I could speak, Viviana suddenly smiled sweetly and chimed in, her voice light and cheerful. "I've heard Serena can really hold her liquor. I've always wanted to see it myself."

She tilted her head slightly, her expression innocent and harmless, as if she had no idea what she was implying. Her lower lip caught a faint sheen of moisture a fraction before the words arrived.

My expression turned cold instantly. I looked straight at her and asked, "Who told you that?"

For a split second, her smile froze. She glanced nervously at Dante, her eyes flickering with uncertainty. "Did I say something wrong again?" she asked softly, her tone trembling.

Dante reached out and gently smoothed the hair from her face, his movements filled with a tenderness I had never received. Then he turned to me, his gaze icy.

"Serena, it's just a glass of wine," he said coldly. "Don't make such a big deal out of it."

A chill spread through me as I met his indifferent eyes. The soldier standing two steps behind Dante's chair didn't move, didn't breathe visibly, but I could feel the room tightening like a wire drawn taut. After a brief pause, I forced a faint smile and spoke clearly, each word deliberate.

"Mr. Moretti, I can't drink," I said. "Because I'm pregnant."

The moment the words left my mouth, the entire table fell silent. The private dining room of the supper club, with its velvet curtains and low amber light, seemed to contract around us. Even the faint clinking of glasses seemed to disappear. Matteo Ricci set down his fork without a sound. The soldier by the door shifted his weight half an inch.

Viviana was the first to recover. The brief flash of something unreadable in her eyes vanished as she quickly stood up, lifting her glass with a bright smile. "Congratulations, Serena!" she said warmly.

But just as she brought the glass to her lips, Dante immediately reached out and stopped her. "Vivi, you're pregnant too. You shouldn't be drinking," he said, his tone firm with concern.

For once, Viviana didn't listen. She shook her head slightly, her expression turning earnest. "No, I have to," she insisted.

"Ever since I joined the Family, I've upset Serena so many times. This drink is my apology," she continued, her voice growing more emotional with each word.

Before anyone could stop her, she tilted her head back and drained the glass in one go.

Almost instantly, her face flushed red. She began coughing violently, her body trembling as tears welled up in her eyes.

Dante's expression twisted with anger and frustration. He shot up from his seat, pointing straight at me. His signet ring was perfectly still against his thumb.

"Is this what you wanted?" he demanded. "Only someone as naive as Vivi would fall for your tricks!"

"If anything happens to our baby because of you," he continued harshly, "I will never forgive you!"

I didn't even bother looking at him. My voice was flat, devoid of emotion. "Do whatever you want."

Turning to Matteo, I muttered a brief apology for the disruption before standing up and heading toward the door. My fingers found the fine chain at my throat and held there, just for a moment, as I turned my back on the table.

Behind me, Dante's voice rang out, filled with fury. "Serena, I've had enough of you!"

"You have a problem with everything Vivi does," he shouted. "If you can't accept her, then maybe we should just dissolve this marriage!"

His words made me pause for a split second. But the surprise faded just as quickly as it came.

We had been bound for five years, and in all that time, he had never once acknowledged our union in front of anyone outside the Family walls. Not at sit-downs, not at tribute dinners, not before a single soul who mattered. Now, just to defend Viviana, he was finally willing to admit it.

I turned back to look at him, at that familiar face that now looked distorted with anger. The Don of the Moretti Family, a man whose silence could empty a room, was shouting across a supper club like he had nothing left to lose. Then I nodded calmly.

"Alright," I said. "Let's get divorced."

Without waiting for his reaction, I turned and walked out.

After leaving the hotel, I immediately called my divorce lawyer. As I spoke, trying to finalize the next steps, a sudden, blinding light flashed in front of me.

A car was speeding straight toward me, completely out of control.

Panic surged through me instantly. My body froze, my legs giving out as I stumbled backward in shock.

Just when I thought I was about to be hit, the driver slammed on the brakes, swerved sharply, and sped off in another direction.

I collapsed onto the ground, my heart pounding wildly, my entire body trembling from the shock.

A girl passing by rushed over to help me, her face filled with concern. She reached out to steady me, her hand brushing lightly against my waist.

Then she suddenly gasped, her eyes widening in horror. "Oh my God… you're bleeding so much!"

Her voice sounded distant, as if coming from far away. I slowly lowered my gaze, only then noticing the dark red pool spreading beneath me.

At the clinic, the doctor asked me to contact a family member.

I held my phone tightly, staring at Dante's number for a long time. My fingers hovered over the screen, unmoving.

In the end, I lowered my hand and dialed Lydia Carbone instead.

There was one thing I couldn't forget.

The license plate on that car… was exactly the same as Dante's.

We had chosen that number together.

I stayed in the clinic until noon the next day, the hours passing slowly in a haze of exhaustion and quiet reflection. A nurse checked my vitals twice before dawn, speaking in the careful, low voice people reserved for rooms paid for in cash with no questions asked. During that entire time, Dante only sent me one message. It was short and oddly phrased: Viv's ceiling is leaking, so I'm taking her back to our place.

The moment I read it, I knew it wasn't really him. The tone, the wording, everything about it felt off. It had Viviana's fingerprints all over it, like she was deliberately trying to make sure I saw it.

When I finally returned to the estate, I stood in front of the door and entered the gate cipher out of habit. But it didn't work. I paused, slightly confused, and was about to try again when the door suddenly opened from the inside.

Viviana stood there, wearing my apron as if it belonged to her, smiling brightly like she had been waiting for me. "Serena, you're finally home!" she said in an overly cheerful tone.

"The old code was too hard for me to remember, so Dante changed it to my birthday," she added casually, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Come in, I'll get you some water."

She stepped aside and welcomed me in, her posture relaxed and confident, as if she were the donna of this house and I was the guest.

The smell of freshly cooked food drifted out from the kitchen, filling the air. Before I could take another step, she turned and ran toward the kitchen doorway.

"Dante, Serena's back!" she called out in a light, almost excited voice.

A moment later, Dante walked out. He was wearing the same couple's apron I had once bought for him.

Back then, he had scoffed at it, saying it was childish and refusing to wear it no matter how many times I asked.

Now, seeing him wearing it so naturally, I couldn't help but think he looked ridiculous. The Don of the Moretti Family, a man whose name made soldiers lower their eyes, standing in a kitchen doorway in a matching apron. The contrast felt almost ironic.

He only glanced at me briefly before turning to Viviana, his tone soft and gentle. "Go rest in the bedroom for a bit."

Viviana nodded obediently, grabbing a bag of nuts and snacks from the table before heading straight into my bedroom, as if it were hers.

The door closed behind her, leaving just the two of us standing there. Somewhere deeper in the house, a faucet dripped. Neither of us moved to fix it.