Lorenzo replied within seconds. [Okay. I'll come fetch you in three days.]
Seeing his message, Bianca felt a small ease settle in her chest at last.
Her body had always been fragile, and after the cleansing procedure, she remained under Dr. Bellandi's care for three more days to regain strength.
It wasn't until the day she was discharged that Vittorio finally came to the clinic.
"Hey. I'm sorry. Viviana's been having a rough few days. Migraines so bad she can barely stand. She gets anxious whenever I'm not around," he explained.
With her back to him, Bianca continued folding the last of her things into a small overnight bag and answered flatly, "Mm."
Sensing her coldness, Vittorio stepped close and wrapped his arms around her from behind.
"What happened with the pills that time. Yes, you went too far. You crossed a line. But I've reflected too. I shouldn't have lost myself… I won't let it happen again," he promised.
"I know you despise Viviana because you love me, but truly, there is nothing between us. She is only a friend. And remember, you're my wife. What is it you fear?" he pressed.
If Vittorio could have seen her face then, he would have noticed the disdain flashing in her eyes.
Friends? You sleep with her. What kind of friendship looks like that? she thought, bitter. Would it only count as "something" if Viviana carried his child?
But Bianca no longer cared. In a few weeks she would be gone for good. There was no use quarreling over things that would soon be ashes.
"What's past is past. I don't wish to speak of it." She folded the last scarf. "Aren't you here to take me home? Let's go."
Vittorio felt a strange hollow. She had not even offered him a smile.
Fine, he thought. When Viviana leaves, I'll surprise Bianca. We will begin anew. I will let the old nights be buried.
Everything of late only proved one thing clearer. Viviana is only a friend. What I feel for Bianca… His gaze lingered on his wife. It is love.
He lifted her bag and guided her from the clinic.
As they reached the corridor, Dr. Bellandi approached with measured steps.
"Bianca, is this your husband? I thought—"
Fearing the doctor might speak of the procedure, Bianca cut him off. "Thank you for your care. I'm recovering well now; I won't take up any more of your time." She drew Vittorio away and hurried from the building.
But no sooner had they returned to the Barresi estate than Viviana's voice rang like a bell through the marble foyer.
"Oh, Bianca, three years and you remain unchanged!" she sang mockingly.
Bianca shot her a warning glare, then turned to climb the stairs to finish packing.
Viviana's next words made her halt.
"Three years ago, I was the one who slipped something into your drink. I told you to find him at the bar. I knew Vittorio loved me, but when I left the country, who could say he wouldn't fall for another? You liked him too, so I set a small trap."
She sauntered forward, one strap of her dress deliberately hanging, the faded marks at her throat and collarbone plain to see.
"You took care of him for three years. I appreciate that sacrifice. But now I've come back. This house is mine, not yours. It's time for you to leave, Bianca."
She smiled, triumphant. Her finger drifted to the pearl at her left ear as if verifying that every word had landed exactly as designed.
"You have no family here in Frostmere Docks. Do not cross me. Take heed: leave while you still can."
Bianca's body trembled with cold fury; the revelation seared through her. So it was her plan from the start, she thought.
Without hesitation, Bianca raised her hand and struck Viviana across the face.
She fixed Viviana with a hard look. "So long as I breathe in this house, you will remain the other woman. Push me, Viviana, and none of us step away unscathed."
Viviana reeled, stunned, lips parted with outrage. Her eyes hardened as she lifted her hand to strike back, when Vittorio appeared in the doorway like a blade.
In an instant Viviana's expression shifted; her voice trembled with contrition.
"Bianca, Vittorio and I are only friends! That night was a mistake! Please! Don't tell anyone!"
In the next beat, she sank to her knees, begging, forehead nearly touching the floor. The pearl earring caught the light as her head bowed, and even now her performance was flawless.
Before Bianca could speak, Vittorio shoved her aside roughly.
Bianca, still tender from her recovery, hit the floor hard and hurt. But it was Viviana he lifted to her feet with practiced gentleness.
When he turned to Bianca again, his eyes cut like knives. "You are being absurd, Bianca! I've told you. Why will you not let this lie?" he demanded.
"If you spread rumors of that night, how will Viviana live with the shame?"
Tears rimmed Bianca's eyes. She bit her lip. "You didn't ask me what truly occurred, Vittorio. Will you believe anything she says?"
His hands balled into fists. Seeing her so fragile stirred something in him, but in the end he sided with Viviana.
"I only trust what stands before me," he declared. "Apologize to Viviana now. Swear you will not lay a hand on her again."
Bianca let out a cold, mirthless laugh, chin high with pride. "I did what any woman would. I am not the one to apologize." Her stance did not waver. "You two are the ones at fault."
Whatever conscience may have lingered in him evaporated.
He smoothed the knot of his tie until it sat too tight, and the room seemed to lose its air. Two soldiers appeared in the doorway before he even raised his voice.
"If you will not beg forgiveness, I will have them carry out the Family's discipline. Ninety-nine lashes. You will not endure them," he said, believing force would bend her will.
He thought threat would break her.
Bianca met his challenge without flinch. Her thumb pressed to the inner edge of her ring, and the trembling stopped.
"I struck her," she said, voice steady. "Because she deserved it. But I have not threatened her." Her eyes flashed. "Vittorio, if you dare lay a hand on me, even just once, you're gonna regret it for the rest of your life."
