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."

Vera sprinted, lungs burning, leg tearing open again with every step.

All because of what Carlo said right before hanging up: "You've got ten minutes. Make it back, I'll let you pull the surveillance footage. Prove it."

He knew damn well she couldn't make it—not with her leg busted. He didn't care. This wasn't about proof. It was a setup. Another punishment.

He didn't believe her. Never did.

Gina? Untouchable in his eyes. Even with factory cams, he wouldn't bother to look.

Vera's steps slowed. The pain was blinding now, every breath sharp.

Then—black.

She hit the pavement.

Horns blared. Headlights lit up her face.

Bang—!

The car hit her hard. Pain ripped through her body. She woke with a gasp, blood spilling from her mouth.

She tried calling Carlo.

No answer.

Not once.

Eventually, everything faded. She blacked out.

***

When Vera came to, she caught the doctor's grumbling.

"You're lucky that car was running on fumes—couldn't hit hard enough. Otherwise? Not even God Himself would've saved you. And you—running on a busted leg? Blacking out in the street? Are you trying to get killed or what?"

He muttered while changing her bandages.

Vera just gave a dry smile. No way she was explaining why she ran.

Her phone lit up on the nightstand.

Gina's posts. Post after post from last night—her playing the doting girlfriend with Carlo.

The newest one:

[Caught a lil cold. Carlo freaked—called the doc, made me take meds. Still worried this morning, so he's dragging me to the hospital.]

Vera stared. The screen's glow iced over whatever warmth she had left.

'So that's where he'd been. Holding Gina's hand. No wonder he didn't pick up.'

She let out a soft laugh. Whatever. She was leaving anyway.

Outside the window, Carlo was helping Gina into a car, gentle.

Picture-perfect. Disgustingly sweet.

Yeah. Time to go.

But she had one thing left to take care of.

Hands shaking, she texted:

[Carlo, you promised me a coming-of-age gift once. Said I could pick anything. That still counts?]

She wanted her real parents' emerald-green brooch—stolen after they died, sold off, vanished. Took her years to track it down after the adoption. Now? Sitting in another Don's private stash.

The only thing she cared to take with her.

Carlo texted back one word: [Okay.]

No 'Where are you?'

No 'Are you alright?'

Just 'okay.'

***

The day Carlo set up the deal, Vera got discharged—bandaged up, slumped in a wheelchair.

He showed up, took one look, and scoffed.

"What, this the pity card now?"

Old Vera would've scrambled to explain.

This Vera just said, "Let's go."

At the meeting, Carlo didn't blink. Traded away an entire weapons route to force the other Don's hand.

The weight in her chest finally let up. She smiled—genuine this time.

"Thanks."

She reached for the brooch.

But a hand snatched it first.

"Carlo?" Gina gasped. "You're the buyer Don Lombardo was meeting? Ugh, I've wanted this brooch forever. That Don wouldn't budge! You actually got him to cave? Wait—is this a surprise for me?"

Vera looked at him, desperate.

Carlo hesitated, then gave a soft, smug smile.

"Yeah. It's for you."

Vera stared, eyes flooding.

Crack.

The brooch slammed to the floor. The emerald shattered.

Gina gasped. "Oh no, my hand slipped. Totally my fault."

"No—!" Vera dropped, scrambling for the shards, hands shaking.

Gina knelt like she might help—then drove her heel into Vera's ankle.

The wound split open. Blood poured fast.

Pain washed her out. Vera almost went under.

Gina leaned close, voice low, venom-soft. "Me and Carlo? Same world. Same blood.

"I've got the Chisari Family at my back. What do you got? You're a rat from the gutter who forgot her place.

"Your visa's approved. Take your useless life and get out of this country. Don't ever come back. If you do, I'll bury you—and those little rats at the orphanage.

"Once you leave Montavera, you're dead. Don't contact Carlo again. Got it?"

Vera clutched the bloody shards, watching Carlo walk away, his arm around Gina.

She smiled. Empty. "I'll listen. I don't want anything anymore."

She sent Carlo one last message, snapped the SIM in half, flagged a cab, and headed for the airport.

This time, she was really gone.

No looking back.