Vera froze. "I didn't—"

Smack.

The slap cracked across her face. She hit the ground, hard. The cut on her knee ripped open again, blood seeping into the carpet.

For a split second, she thought Carlo reached for her—something like regret in his eyes.

Then Gina whimpered, and his hand snapped back to her instead.

Vera blinked fast, swallowing the sting. 'Yeah right. As if he'd ever feel bad for me.'

"You've let me down," he said coldly. "I taught you to fight to protect yourself—not to hurt people. Apologize to Gina. Now."

She stared at him, quiet and hollow.

Even in this life, he didn't hesitate—just believed Gina. Didn't even let her speak.

Back then, whenever she got into it with someone, Carlo always had her back. Right or wrong.

He used to say he stood by his own—not the truth.

Now Gina was the one he stood by. And Vera? She was just... an outsider.

So even after stepping down, she wasn't family anymore.

The weight of that hit like a brick. She didn't even have the strength to fight back.

Guests whispered. Servants watched, smug.

She knew Gina would come for her. She just hadn't expected the worst blow to come from Carlo.

Vera squeezed her eyes shut, pushed through the pain in her leg, and stood.

She bowed.

"I'm sorry, Gina."

Then she limped away. The second she was out of sight, tears smeared her vision.

She ditched the banquet and grabbed a cab to the hospital.

When the doctor said, "The nerves in your ankle are damaged again. There's a good chance you'll limp for the rest of your life," she went numb.

Back when Carlo was about to take over the Quaranta Family, hits came nonstop. She'd taken bullets for him. Dragged him out of kill zones more than once.

That ankle had shattered back then. The nerves were already fried. The doctor had warned her—one more injury and it'd be permanent.

In her last life, after she married Carlo, the orphanage burned. Her legs were broken. She spent the rest of her days in a wheelchair.

She never thought this life would end with her broken too.

Vera lay there, sobbing till her chest hurt.

'Why do two months have to feel this long?' She was barely hanging on.

That night, she dragged her limp leg back to the estate. From a distance, she spotted Carlo by the gate.

Before, that would've meant he was waiting for her.

Not anymore.

Sure enough, the second he saw her, his face hardened. "So you DO remember where you live?

"You vanish without a word and stroll in past midnight. You think nobody's worried?

"Gina's hurt and still thinking about you, scared something happened, blaming herself.

"You're not a kid. Keep this up, and you can leave for good."

"Don't be mad at her." Gina showed up, bandaged and fragile, voice all sweet. "She just counts on you too much. I'm fine. It's just a surface cut."

She gave Vera a soft smile and reached out, all warm and sisterly.

Vera stepped back. Not playing that game.

Gina flinched like she'd been slapped, clutched her bandaged hand. Blood bloomed through the gauze.

"Gina!" Carlo barked.

He scooped her up, yelling for the family doctor.

Vera froze. She'd never seen him panic like that.

She just stood there, stunned.

She hadn't even touched Gina. All she did was step back. There was no way she caused that.

But Carlo looked at her like she was filth.

"Get out," he growled. "I don't have a sister as cruel as you."

It felt like lightning ripped through her. Every nerve shook. It hurt—but underneath was this weird sense of finality.

She opened her mouth to explain, but Carlo wasn't even looking at her. He held Gina like she was glass and walked her toward the master bedroom.

"The doctor's on his way," he murmured. "Don't be scared. I won't let anyone hurt you again."

Every word sliced her up all over again.

Hands trembling, Vera hesitated—then sent him a message.

[Whether you believe me or not, I didn't hurt her.]

The second she hit send, her body gave out. She dragged herself to her room and crashed into sleep.

She figured he'd never reply.

But the next day, his message was waiting.

[Tomorrow is your coming-of-age. I'll hold it as scheduled.]

Vera froze. She hadn't expected him to throw her a coming-of-age party.

Maybe he remembered. Maybe it was his twisted way of giving her one last shred of dignity.

She wore the dress he'd picked out ages ago. Even found shoes that masked her limp.

At the venue, the host handed her a mic.

She gave a tight smile. "Thanks for coming to my coming-of-age—"

Laughter.

All eyes on her, dripping with mockery.

She stood there, blindsided.

Then came Gina, cradling some fluffy dog, trailing a pack of sycophants. Her smirk was poison.

"Vera, sweetie, I know you're finally legal or whatever. Sucks this party ain't for you. Carlo threw it for my dog."

The crowd howled.

And just like that, Vera got it. The message that morning—Gina. Using Carlo's phone. Just to set her up.

Gina caught her look and snorted.

"What, you still think Carlo's gonna save you?" She leaned in, voice low, sharp. "I can pull this right here on Quaranta ground. You really think the Don doesn't know?"

Then she kicked Vera's bad leg. Hard.

"Carlo told me to straighten you out. Knock that attitude right outta you."

Vera hit the floor, pain exploding through her. She tried to crawl.

Hands slammed her back down.

Gina flicked out a knife.

Quick. Mean. Dozens of shallow cuts.

Vera shook, vision tunneling, the edges of the world going dark.

Gina stepped back, admiring her work.

"Carlo says this is payback for touching my wound last time," she said. "You mouth off again, he'll snap your leg."

'My leg's already wrecked.'

Then Vera saw him. Carlo. Second floor. Watching.

He'd seen it all. Every cut. Every kick.

Her vision dipped. She smiled, bitter and broken, and lifted her eyes to him.

"I get it," she said softly. "I hope you and Gina get a lifetime of love."

Vera dragged her bloodied body to call for an ambulance.

The doctor shook his head as he worked. "Cuts aren't too deep, but they'll scar. Shame. Such a pretty girl. Whoever did this wasn't just angry—they were vicious. Your family must be devastated."

She gave a bitter smile.

Her family did this.

They wouldn't shed a tear. Wouldn't care.

She didn't have a family. Not anymore. The brother she once trusted? Already tossed her like garbage.

Still, before she vanished for good, she had one last weapon to finish.

Work kept the pain quiet.

***

Time flew. Before Vera could blink, the Quaranta and Chisari Families dropped the big announcement—the engagement was official.

Every Don in the underworld showed up. The banquet? Over-the-top. Flashy. Loud. A straight-up flex from Carlo, making it crystal clear how much he doted on Gina.

Vera couldn't help it—her mind slipped back. Her wedding with Carlo had been a ghost of a ceremony. No guests. No "congrats." Hell, he didn't even show up on time.

This? This was a different universe.

Music kicked in. Carlo and Gina stepped out, fingers laced, all glitz and glam, the golden couple of the night.

Carlo, cold as ice most days, was all charm and softness. He pulled out a sleek, modified piece and gave a rare smile.

"Gina customized this for me," he said. "Recoil's basically gone. Because of her, every man in the Quaranta Family's gonna have an edge. Marrying her? Luckiest move of my life."

Applause thundered through the hall. Gina soaked it up, acting sweet, but her eyes sparkled with smug.

Vera froze. Her hands shook.

That gun was hers.

The last thing she built for the Quaranta Family—never even had the chance to deliver it.

So how the hell was Gina getting the credit?

That weapon had been her one last shred of pride. She'd swallowed humiliation, exile, betrayal. But this?

No way.

"That gun's not yours!" Vera stood, voice slicing through the crowd. "I made it. Check the grip. Base has my initials—V.E."

Gina curled into Carlo like she was heartbroken. "Vera, how could you? That's not your mark. It stands for 'vita eterna.' It's a symbol of our love—and a blessing. Eternal life for the one who holds it."

Vera didn't even blink. Her eyes locked on Carlo. "I've got the blueprints and logs in my arsenal. You want proof? I'll show you."

For a second, something flickered in Carlo's eyes. Then he nodded.

"Fine. Show me."

But by the time Vera got to the arsenal, the place went up in flames.

The sky lit red. Smoke choked the air.

"Signorina, stop! You can't go in—there's still explosives in there!" someone yelled, holding her back.

She dropped, knees giving out, eyes locked on the blaze. Gina's smug little smirk looped in her head like a curse.

'It was her. Had to be.'

Fingers shaking, she called Carlo—heart pounding, breath tight.

He picked up, voice laced with pure ice.

"Oh, so the evidence just HAPPENS to burn up?" He scoffed. "You kidding me with this? I sent you away to save face, and now you pull this stunt?"

His tone cut like glass.

"Think for once. Gina's the Chisari principessa. She don't need to jack your scraps—she's got top-tier designers on speed dial."