When Julian walked through the door, the first thing he saw was Stella, her hands clasped tightly as she apologized profusely.

"What the hell is your problem, Cassia?! Stella only came here out of concern!" he snarled.

The consigliere looked flustered and was about to explain, but Stella cut in first, her voice soft and trembling. "Julian, please don't be angry. It was my fault. I smelled the wine and just couldn't resist—it was so rich. I only meant to have a tiny sip, but before I knew it, I'd finished the whole thing. Cassia has every right to be angry..."

Tears welled in her eyes, and Julian's anger instantly vanished, replaced by a gentle tenderness. "It's a bottle of wine. You can have all you want when you're recovered. Why are you antagonizing Stella over something so petty?"

He turned to the consigliere coldly. "Stella hasn't been well lately. Since she likes this vintage, go find a case of the same quality and have it sent to her art studio."

The consigliere nodded quickly and hurried away.

Julian's expression softened again as he leaned down and wiped a tear from Stella's cheek. "Don't cry. I can't stand to see you cry."

Stella burst into a tearful smile and threw herself into his arms. "You're teasing me again."

They left the hospital room together, whispering and laughing until the corridor fell silent once more. It was only then I realized the barbs that once pierced my heart now felt like nothing. I didn't want to argue, I didn't want to cry, and I didn't even want to explain myself anymore.

...

An hour later, as the doctor was checking my wound, several of Julian's soldati swaggered into the room, telling me to get discharged. The rival families, they said, were still making moves.

One of them, perhaps out of sympathy, asked if I needed extra painkillers. I shook my head. "It's alright." This pain was nothing new. I was used to it.

They drove me back to the penthouse, dumped me at the door, shoved a bag of medication into my hands, and sped off. Julian didn't care about me, so his men didn't either. In their eyes, I was nothing.

I opened the door to an empty apartment. Even the housekeeper was gone. Then, Julian's call came. His voice was as cold and distant as ever. "Stella isn't feeling well. Your housekeeper is more attentive, so I had her and the others go over to help. You'll be on your own for a few days. They'll be back once Stella is better."

He said it so casually, as if she were the one who had been shot and nearly died, not me.

"I understand."

He paused, sensing the distance in my tone. "Just tell me what you want to eat. I'll have the housekeeper make it for you when she gets back."

"I understand."

Even over the phone, I could feel him frowning.

"What is this attitude? Over a damn bottle of wine? Let me remind you, Cassia Rhodes—the day I married you, I told you your only purpose was to be Stella’s shield. Don't think playing the part of Donna Bellini for three years makes you more important than her."

I nodded mechanically. "I understand."

"You—" His anger flared again, but before he could finish, Stella's voice called out from a short distance away. "Julian, come try these macarons!"

The call disconnected.

Forty-eight hours until erasure.

I felt hungry, but when I went into the kitchen, I found everything had been taken—the refrigerator was completely empty. Because of who Julian was, he never allowed me to order takeout. I rummaged through the cabinets and found a few stale soda crackers.

The coffee machine had been broken for weeks, so I ate the crackers with tap water and sat at the dining table.

My phone buzzed—Stella was livestreaming on Instagram again. This time, they weren't in the art studio. Judging by the background, it looked like they were on a yacht in the Hamptons. Stella was wearing a loose white button-down shirt, eating tiramisu while chatting with her viewers. A man off-camera would occasionally feed her a bite with a fork, his movements gentle and practiced.

'Can we get more couple content? Just from that hand, I can tell he's gorgeous!'

Stella giggled. "My boyfriend is the most handsome man in the world. Every time he smiles, my heart melts. He pursued me first, but I was too shy, too scared... It took me so long to finally say yes. The dessert is sweet, but not as sweet as we are."

The man's hand reached into the frame and ruffled her hair. She giggled again, her cheeks flushing pink.

By the time Stella had finished half a tiramisu, I had finished the few miserable soda crackers.

During her livestream, her other phone suddenly lit up. She glanced at the screen, a flicker of surprise in her eyes. A few seconds later, she burst into tears in front of over a hundred thousand viewers.

The stream ended abruptly. I was staring at my phone, stunned, when Julian's call came through. The moment I answered, his voice lashed out like a whip. "Cassia Rhodes, all for a bottle of wine? For a few maids? You leaked photos of me and Stella to the gossip columns?!"

"I don't know what you're talking about. The moment I got home—"

"Still denying it? Stella said she only sent those photos to you. No one else has them—not even me! And the yacht today? We've been there before. Your username was in the livestream chat, I saw it!" His voice was a low growl, each word forced through clenched teeth.

If I had been standing in front of him then, I knew what would have happened—he would have kicked me to the ground and forced me to kneel and apologize to Stella.

Just like last winter, when Stella was suffering from menstrual cramps and insisted I take care of her. I had just had a miscarriage and was too weak, so I softly apologized, "I'm sorry." That one sentence was enough for Julian to grab me by the shoulders and shove me to the ground.

I remember bowing again and again—ten times, maybe more—until my forehead was bleeding, and only then did Stella tearfully say she forgave me.

Julian's ragged breathing over the phone pulled me from the memory. I stared at the cracker crumbs and said softly, "It wasn't me. I have no reason to do that."

Then, I heard Stella's trembling voice in the background. "Julian, I feel like... there are paparazzi watching me outside. I'm so scared..."

The call was cut off. I sat motionless at the table, staring blankly ahead.

Sure enough, ten minutes later, Julian's soldati kicked open my door and stormed in. Without a word, they grabbed me like a sack of rice. "Let's go. The Don wants you to be a decoy for Miss Vaughn."

...

The beach house in the Hamptons had a massive floor-to-ceiling window. They tied me to a chair facing the ocean and stuck a book in my hands. On the other side of the room, in the safest part of the basement, Julian was holding Stella gently. "Don't be afraid," he whispered, "I'm here. I'll protect you."

She buried her face in his chest, her small hands clutching his expensive shirt. "Julian, are they going to kill me? I'm so scared. I don't want to get hurt..."

"They won't," he murmured, "You're safe here. I promise."

Her crying slowly subsided into sobs. "Julian, what would I do without you?"

"Don't be silly. You'll always have me. I'll be with you until we're old and gray."

The soft, wet sound of their kissing filled the room. No matter how hard I tried to focus on the book in my hands, every noise found its way to my ears. It went on for half an hour before finally stopping.

Then, Stella's sweet voice broke the silence. "Julian, Cassia is still here. She is your wife, after all. Maybe you should have someone protect her, too."

Julian shot a cold glance in my direction. "If she hadn't leaked our photos and location, you wouldn't be scared right now. She brought this on herself."

I tried to keep reading, but the words blurred. I thought I had run out of pain—so why were there still tears? I didn't understand, and I didn't want to.

I don't know when I fell asleep. When I woke, pain and exhaustion had dulled everything around me. The system's voice echoed faintly in my ear, "24 hours remaining."

But before I could move, Julian's hand struck my face in a hard slap. "Cassia Rhodes, you venomous bitch! How dare you sneak in here while I was sleeping?!"

I shot up too quickly, and a cry of pain was torn from my throat as the movement ripped at the wound in my shoulder.

"Stop pretending," he roared. "Where's Stella?"

Only then did I realize I was in their bedroom. I didn't even know how I had gotten here, but Stella was gone.

"I don't know. I was by the window all night—"

"Liar! Where did you send her?"