Chapter 2

Vittoria's mocking voice rang out above my head.

"A miscarriage report?" she sneered, turning the folded paper over in her manicured fingers like it was a losing hand of cards. "Serafina, don't tell me you're trying to use something like this to crawl back into Salvatore's bed?"

Trembling, I lifted my head, my face deathly pale as I looked at Vittoria standing before me in the pale hush of the clinic corridor.

"Give it back to me."

My voice came out hoarse and broken. Not only did Vittoria refuse to return the report, she leaned closer, her tone dripping with contempt.

"I know you saw everything just now. So what if I was gone for seven years?" she said smugly. "You're still the same loser. As long as I want it, every man wearing the family's blood will turn his back on you. You pitiful worm."

"Seven whole years bound to him, and they never even let your name into the family registry. In the end, not a single one of them chose you. If I were you, I'd have put a bullet in my own head long ago."

Her voice pierced my ears like sharp knives. My pupils shrank as I clutched my ears tightly.

Ever since we were children under the Lombardi roof, Vittoria had taken everything I treasured.

I once thought that seven years of standing beside Salvatore could break this curse. But the moment she came home, everything I longed for fell back into her hands, the way tribute always finds its way to the favored blood.

My chest burned with pain, my vision blurring with tears.

Just then, a shrill car horn suddenly sounded.

I looked up, and saw a vehicle that had lost control, speeding straight toward us across the wet asphalt.

My eyes widened in terror as I lunged to the side. But at that moment, Vittoria grabbed me and held me down with all her strength.

Her expression twisted grotesquely, her eyes filled with malicious delight as she looked at me.

"Sister," she said softly, "let this accident show you the difference between you and me."

Before I could even process what was happening, someone shoved me hard.

"Vittoria! Are you okay?!"

Salvatore and my brothers rushed to shield Vittoria, their faces full of panic and concern. Matteo's hand had already drifted to the piece beneath his coat before he even saw the car, and every one of them closed around her like soldiers around the Don. Not a single one of them spared me a glance.

A sharp crack rang out as searing pain exploded in my ankle.

The next second, the grotesque front of the car slammed straight toward me.

Bang! With a deafening crash, my world plunged into darkness.

...

When I opened my eyes again, a whimper escaped my throat.

Every inch of my body screamed in protest. The pain burned through me like raging flames.

Memories from before the accident flooded back.

Vittoria's twisted, triumphant expression as Salvatore and my brothers chose her without hesitation.

The sensation of my heart being torn apart, everything vanishing again into darkness with that violent impact.

I struggled to sit up, but a nurse gently pressed me back down, looking at me with something close to pity in a place where pity was rare.

"You can't move yet," she said softly. "Where's your family?"

"You came in with that other girl. She only had minor injuries, but her people were here within the hour, all of them, throwing money at every door. Why hasn't anyone come to sit with you?"

Hearing this, I let out a bitter smile.

My family was right across the hall, gathered around Vittoria.

Through the crack in the door, I could see the ward opposite mine.

It was the kind of private suite the Family kept for its own, costing more a night than most men earned in a season, the sort of room reserved for made men and favored daughters.

The door was wide open. Vittoria sat on the bed, rosy-cheeked and radiant, while my husband and my brothers crowded around her, feeding her fruit and coaxing laughter out of her like courtiers at the Don's table.

Not one of them had thought to cross the hall and look at me, even though my injuries were far worse than hers.

"Could you please hand me my phone?" I asked quietly.

The nurse passed it to me.

I didn't try to reach Salvatore or my brothers.

Instead, I sent a message to a single number, one that belonged to no one in the Marchetti or Lombardi blood.

[You once swore to me that no matter when, as long as I needed you, you would come. Does that oath still hold?]

I clenched the phone tightly, waiting for a response.

One minute passed.

Nothing.

I lowered my head in disappointment. Of course. Seven years had gone by. How could that man, heir to a Family sworn against my husband's, possibly still remember a promise made to me?

The next second, my phone vibrated.

My hands trembled as I opened the message.

[It will always hold. Where are you? I'll come for you right now.]

A rush of warmth surged in my chest, yet tears spilled uncontrollably from my eyes.

I replied. [I still have something to finish here. Can you come for me in seven days?]

Before Lorenzo could answer, Salvatore's voice suddenly sounded from the doorway of the ward, quiet in the way that made men across a room go still.

"Serafina," he asked coldly, "who are you texting?"