Serafina's screams tore through the garden, shattering the hush of the evening and pulling a crowd of startled guests toward the poolside. The low murmur of the banquet curdled into gasps as they took in the scene.

Without hesitation, Lorenzo stripped off his suit jacket and threw himself into the water, the splash sending ripples that broke the lantern light. He cut toward Serafina with frantic, decisive strokes, every soldier along the terrace gone rigid where they stood.

When he reached her, he gathered her into his arms, cradling her against him as he hauled her to the edge. Water poured from her soaking gown, pooling around them as she trembled against his chest.

"Serafina! Serafina, are you all right?" Lorenzo's voice was thick with concern, his hands gripping her shoulders as if to anchor her. His eyes raked her face, hunting for any sign of injury.

Serafina clung to him, shivering with theatrical precision, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. She cast a fleeting glance at me, and the hurt in her gaze was unmistakable. Her smile held a half-second too long before it folded back into grief.

"Sis, if I did something to upset you, you could have just told me," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Why did you push me into the water? You know I'm terrified of it..."

The crowd murmured in shocked disbelief, and before I could open my mouth to defend myself, my mother stormed forward. Her face twisted with fury, her fingers tight around the strand of pearls at her throat.

"Mirabella, how dare you push Serafina into the pool!"

Her shove caught me off guard. My feet slipped on the wet tiles and I stumbled backward.

The moment I hit the water, the icy cold enveloped me, stealing the breath from my lungs. Panic gripped me as I sank beneath the surface, water rushing into my mouth and nose. I kicked and flailed, but my movements were erratic, each one draining more of my energy.

I can't swim.

My chest burned as I struggled for air, the heavy weight of the water pressing down on me. Above the surface, muffled voices and laughter filtered through, but no one came in after me. Not one of the Falcone soldiers moved. They watched the Don's wife drown and stood as still as men awaiting an order that never came.

Through the ripples, I glimpsed my mother standing at the pool's edge, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

"Stop pretending, Mirabella," she scoffed, her voice dripping with disdain. "No one's going to fall for your act. You've been nothing but a curse on this family. Letting Serafina be taken wasn't enough for you. Now you're trying to hurt her again? I should never have brought you into this world!"

Each word felt like another weight pulling me further under.

My father, the old Don, stood beside her, his lips pressed into a tight line. He didn't bother to speak. His cold, condemning glare said it all, and the silver head of his cane never once touched the stone.

I surfaced briefly, gasping and coughing, but the effort drained what little strength I had left.

Through the blur of water and tears, my gaze landed on Lorenzo. My last shred of hope clung to him. Surely he wouldn't let me drown. He knows I can't swim. He might not love me, but he isn't cruel enough to let me die... right?

But Lorenzo didn't move.

He sat on the pool's edge with Serafina still in his arms, his expression hardening as he looked at me. A man who had given quieter signals than this and ended lives by them.

"Did you know Serafina is carrying a child?" he spat, his voice low and full of fury. "How could you do this to her? You could have killed her. And the baby."

The accusation struck me like a slap. My throat tightened and I tried to plead, but the words were lost in my gasping for air.

Lorenzo's face darkened further. "Stay in the water tonight and think about what you've done."

With that, he stood and carried Serafina away, her damp hair clinging to his shoulder. She rested her head against him, casting me a final triumphant glance before they vanished into the house.

The crowd thinned slowly, their whispers carrying a mix of scorn and amusement, none of them daring to speak above the cover their Don had given them. My parents turned and followed without so much as a backward glance.

One by one, they all left.

As the cold seeped into my bones, an overwhelming despair settled over me. My arms felt heavy, my legs weaker with every kick. I can't... I can't keep this up.

The water closed over me again, and this time I didn't have the strength to resurface. My lungs burned, my vision blurred, and my thoughts grew hazy.

Just as the darkness began to take me, a sudden splash broke through the silence. A strong arm wrapped around my waist, dragging me upward with desperate urgency.

Who... was he?

When I opened my eyes, the stark white ceiling of a hospital room greeted me. My body felt heavy, every breath a labor.

I turned my head and was startled to find Lorenzo sitting beside the bed. His hair was disheveled, his shirt creased, as if he hadn't slept. No soldiers at the door tonight, no Consigliere at his shoulder. Only him.

The moment our eyes met, his face lit with relief.

He began signing at once, his movements quick and full of feeling. "Honey, you're finally awake! I didn't mean to leave you behind last night. Gabriele is away handling business and couldn't see to Serafina. She's carrying a child. I had to take her to the hospital first... Please don't be angry, all right?"

His hands stilled briefly. His expression softened as he went on. "You know how much an heir means to the Falcone blood. If something had happened to Serafina's child, they'd have laid it at your feet. Even your own parents wouldn't have forgiven you. I was only trying to protect you..."

He looked at me with such sincerity, as if he expected me to believe every word. His thumb turned the heavy signet ring once around his finger.

But I knew better now.

The ache in my chest was unbearable, but I forced myself to stay composed. I refused to let him see how deeply his words cut me.

I said nothing.

Lorenzo's smile faltered, a flicker of disappointment crossing his face. He hesitated, then reached for my hand.

I didn't pull away, but I didn't respond either. Instead, I turned my gaze to the window, letting the silence stretch between us. Beneath the blanket, my thumb pressed against the bare band of my ring finger, against the absence I had not yet chosen, but already understood was coming.

Later that evening, I sat in the sterile quiet of my hospital room, staring at the photo Serafina had sent me. It was a picture of Lorenzo, leaning over her hospital bed, pen in hand, his expression tender and focused. The caption beneath it twisted the knife further: [Your husband is quite the romantic,] she had written. [He actually wrote me a hundred love letters. He stayed by my side all night and didn't even close his eyes. The men only told him you were waking up, and that's when he finally left to see you.]

Her next message came almost immediately, each word dripping with calculated cruelty: [Mirabella, you'll never be able to surpass me. If you have any sense, you should just step aside.]

The pain in my chest was sharp and unrelenting, but I refused to give her the satisfaction of seeing me break. My fingers hovered over the screen, trembling with restrained anger, but before I could type a reply, the door to my hospital room creaked open.

A man in a crisp black suit entered, his bearing that of a soldier who answered to one master only. He barely glanced in my direction before turning to Lorenzo, who stood near the window, hands buried in his pockets.

"Don Falcone," the man began, his voice low and deferential, the words measured the way men spoke them in rooms where the wrong syllable buried you. "As you ordered, everything is ready for the banquet. The succession pact handing the Falcone holdings to Donna Serafina can proceed as planned."

My heart sank as the words registered. I turned my gaze to Lorenzo.

But Lorenzo's lips curled into a satisfied smile as he nodded, turning the heavy signet ring once around his finger. "Good," he said, his tone calm and even. "If my wife asks about this, tell her the Falcone rackets took a hard hit and the holdings collapsed."

He turned to me then, his expression shifting into one of feigned urgency. His hands moved swiftly, signing with exaggerated concern, "Honey, something urgent happened with the Family. I have to handle it. Wait for me here."

For a moment, I simply stared at him, my mind reeling. His performance was flawless. If I hadn't regained my hearing, I might have believed every word. But now, the truth was as clear as the air in the room.

I nodded silently, watching as he left without a second glance. The door clicked shut behind him, and the silence that followed felt suffocating.

I stared at the empty space where he had stood, my hands curling into fists. The realization hit me like a wave. There was nothing left to hold onto. No love, no trust, no future.

Rather than endure the humiliation of lingering in his world, I decided it was time to leave it entirely.

With a steady hand, I pulled the dissolution papers from my bag, the pages creased and worn from the hours I had spent deliberating. In a family like ours, asking to end an alliance union was an act of open defiance, a thing that was not done. I placed the papers neatly on the bedside table, the stark white sheets a symbol of my resolve. My thumb pressed against the bare band of my ring finger, the place where the wedding ring no longer sat.

Before leaving, I took out my phone and deleted every trace of them. Lorenzo, Serafina, even my parents. Each press of the delete button felt like a small release, a severing of ties that had only brought me pain.

At the banquet, the hall buzzed with anticipation as Lorenzo stood at the head of the room beside Serafina, a triumphant smile on his face. Glasses caught the light, and the heads of allied families leaned close to murmur as he announced the succession pact, the Falcone holdings passing to her.

"This marks a new chapter for our Family," Lorenzo declared, his voice steady and certain.

The crowd raised their glasses, a low swell of approval rolling through the hall. Among them, my parents beamed with pride, lifting their wine high as they celebrated Serafina's rise.

As the evening drew to a close, Lorenzo offered to drive Serafina home himself. She clung to his arm, her smile radiant, but just as they reached the entrance, a familiar figure stepped into their path.

"Long time no see, Lorenzo," Vincenzo greeted, his tone light but pointed, a laugh slipping out a half-beat too early. "Taking your niece by marriage out again? Why didn't you bring your wife along? I wanted to ask her about her ears. Whether she still has trouble hearing."

Vincenzo's words hung in the air like a thunderclap. Lorenzo went still, his expression shifting from surprise to disbelief.

"What did you say?" he asked, his voice low and strained. "Mirabella... she can hear now?"

Vincenzo blinked, thrown by his reaction. "What's with that look? Her hearing came back yesterday. Didn't she tell you?"