Bianca's Pov
The next morning, I left the house without telling anyone. The wheelman dropped me off at the cemetery, and I walked straight to his grave without stopping.
I didn't have the strength to hesitate anymore.
"Master…" My voice came out hoarse as I stood in front of the tombstone.
For a moment, I just stared at his name, my chest tightening in a way that made it hard to breathe. The morning fog sat low between the headstones, thick enough to muffle the sound of the city beyond the iron fence. In here, nothing moved. Even the crows on the mausoleum roof were quiet.
"I'm leaving," I said quietly. "This time, I won't come back."
My fingers brushed against the cold stone, and the memories came all at once — his voice, his patience, the way he used to guide my hand when I painted. Gabriel D'Angelo. The only man in the Family who had ever looked at me and seen something worth protecting without expecting a debt in return.
"I found out the truth," I continued, my voice shaking despite myself. "I know who killed you."
My throat tightened.
"And he knew too."
The words hurt more when spoken out loud.
"I trusted him… and he protected her."
A tear slid down before I could stop it.
"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I couldn't protect anything. Not you… not my child…"
My chest tightened painfully. My fingers drifted to the pale mark where my wedding ring used to sit, pressing against the bare skin until the knuckle ached.
"If you were still here…" My voice faltered. "You wouldn't have let anyone treat me like this."
My voice broke completely this time. For a second, I couldn't speak at all. Then I forced the words out.
"But I won't let it end like this."
I took a step back, my chest rising and falling unevenly. I forced my hand away from the ring mark. I had chosen.
"This is the last time I come here."
I turned and walked away. I didn't look back.
I barely made it out of the cemetery gate when a van stopped abruptly beside me. Before I could react, the door slid open and rough hands grabbed me, dragging me inside.
"Let go—!"
A cloth was pressed over my mouth, cutting off my voice. The sharp chemical smell filled my nose, and within seconds, my strength gave out.
The last thing I saw before everything went dark was Celia Bellandi's unconscious body slumped against the van's far wall.
—
When I woke up, my head throbbed painfully.
The room was dim, the air damp and suffocating. Somewhere a pipe dripped against concrete. My hands were tied behind me, and the rough floor beneath me sent a chill through my body. A warehouse. The kind of place where men disappeared and nobody filed a report.
Voices echoed nearby.
"She's awake."
"Good. Call him."
A phone was put on speaker.
Dante Falcone's voice came through almost immediately, tense and sharp. "Who is this?"
"We have two women," one of the kidnappers said casually. "Celia and Bianca. One hundred million for each of them."
I froze. My heart pounded so loudly I could barely hear anything else.
With those words, the call ended abruptly. The kidnappers turned to stare at us. Celia was sobbing pitifully.
I didn't know how much time had passed when the door suddenly opened again.
I lifted my head weakly to see Dante. He looked disheveled, his hair slightly messy, his shirt wrinkled like he had rushed here without thinking. No soldiers flanking him. No consigliere. Just the Don of the Falcone Family standing in a warehouse doorway like a man who had driven here alone.
His eyes scanned the room before landing on me. Relief flickered across his face.
"Bianca…" he said, stepping closer.
My throat tightened instantly. He actually came for me.
"I brought the money," he continued quickly, his voice low, almost rushed. "Just hold on a little longer, okay? I'll get you out of here."
My fingers twitched against the rough rope binding my wrists.
For a moment, hope flared in my chest but it died quickly with his next words.
"Release Celia."
Those words echoed louder than anything else.
I looked at him.
"You chose her," I said quietly.
He froze.
"It's not like that—" he started.
But even he didn't sound convinced.
"I didn't have enough time," he added quickly. "The money… I could only arrange part of it. I had to get Celia out first, she—"
"She's dying," I finished for him.
The same excuse again.
My chest tightened painfully.
"And what about me?" I asked.
"I'll come back for you," he said finally, his voice firm now, like he was trying to convince both of us. "Just endure it for a while longer."
Celia's voice trembled beside me. "No… Dante, don't do this. I don't want anything to happen to her…"
"You're too good for this world, Celia," Dante said to her, then he turned to me. "I'll be back."
Then he turned and left with Celia without sparing me a second glance.
I lowered my head slightly, my chest tightening until it hurt to breathe.
What was the point of pretending now?
He had already proven it.
He chose her life over mine.
Just like he chose her child over mine.
"Looks like your man doesn't love you that much."
Laughter filled the room.
Rough hands grabbed my arm, pulling me up harshly before throwing me back down again. Pain shot through my side, sharp enough to make my vision blur.
"Wait," one of them said, crouching in front of me. "Did you see that? He came all the way here… and still left you behind."
Another laugh.
"Must feel good."
I clenched my teeth, my body trembling as I tried to steady my breathing.
My chest rose and fell unevenly, my fingers shaking uncontrollably as the weight of everything pressed down on me.
They didn't need to touch me to hurt me. Dante already had.
Time lost meaning after that.
They dragged me, stripped me bare, flogged me for hours then left me cold without food or water, mocking me every time I struggled to stay conscious. The warehouse held the sound of it, the wet crack of leather against skin coming back off the walls a half-second later like the building itself was keeping count.
They didn't stop and I lost track of time. I only knew pain.
Every time I thought it was over, it came again. My body couldn't keep up.
My breathing turned uneven, my chest rising and falling too fast, too shallow like it couldn't get enough air.
"Stay awake," someone laughed. "Don't pass out yet."
My fingers scraped weakly against the floor. I was so cold. I curled in on myself, but it didn't help.
Nothing helped.
"Where's that man now?" another voice mocked. "Didn't he say he'd come back?"
A laugh burst out of someone.
"She is so pathetic."
My chest tightened violently. I couldn't breathe.
I tried but it felt like something was crushing me from the inside.
My vision blurred as tears slipped out uncontrollably. I pressed my forehead against the cold floor, my shoulders trembling.
I didn't know how long it had been when the door was suddenly kicked open.
"Police! Don't move!"
Voices shouted and footsteps rushed in. Someone cut the ropes binding my wrists.
"Bianca!"
I forced my eyes open.
"Nina…" I whispered.
My best friend's face came into view, pale and shaken. "I'm here. You're safe now."
I tried to respond but my voice wouldn't come out as I gave in to the darkness.
