In the end, I dragged my exhausted and injured body down the mountain by myself. Each step felt heavy, but I kept going.
By the time I returned to the base camp near the casino renovation site, I was already back inside the trailer. I had just finished a phone call with a candidate for a new courier position.
At that moment, Dante walked in.
His eyes immediately landed on my phone. A trace of cold suspicion flickered across his face. "Bianca, who were you talking to?" he asked in a low voice.
"Someone I don't know," I replied flatly.
He seemed to assume it was just a wrong number. He didn't question me further. And I didn't bother explaining either.
"I figured you'd be hungry, so I brought you some food," he said, tossing a takeout box onto the folding table. The movement was careless, almost dismissive.
The corner of the box lifted slightly, revealing leftover scraps inside. A sour smell drifted out immediately.
Dante quickly picked it up again, clearing his throat awkwardly. "There were a lot of people ordering from the kitchen. They must've grabbed the wrong one."
With someone of his status, eating with capos and the club's inner circle, how could a mistake like that even happen?
I didn't respond. I simply lay down on the cot and turned to face the other side. "It's fine. My delivery should arrive soon anyway," I said coldly.
Hearing that, Dante's expression darkened. His voice dropped. "Why didn't you tell me you were ordering food? Bianca, I've told you many times, there's nothing between Serafina and me. It's all just for appearances, for the public front. Why are you making such a fuss? Why are you so petty?"
I stared ahead blankly and replied, "I'm not making a fuss."
It was the truth. But somehow, it only made him angrier.
He grabbed the takeout box and threw it straight into the trash. His tone turned sharp and accusing. "Then why didn't you bring Serafina her medicine? Didn't I tell you it's inconvenient for me to go to the clinic because of my public image? It's just buying medicine. Is this really necessary?"
Buying medicine was a small thing. But so was doing laundry. So was cooking.
Serafina claimed she had a germ phobia and insisted all her clothes be washed by hand.
Even in the freezing northern winter, with temperatures far below zero, Dante ordered me to wash her clothes by hand. My fingers would go numb from the cold, the skin cracking from frostbite.
I remembered one time when my frostbitten hands started bleeding. The blood stained Serafina's clothes.
When Dante saw it, he didn't ask if I was hurt. Instead, he kicked me out of the hotel and forced me to wash her clothes outside in the snow. I wore nothing but a thin nightgown. The soldier posted at the door didn't look at me. Didn't move. Omertà applied to cruelty, too.
All because Serafina had once casually said, "Dante, I heard snow can cure frostbite." She'd touched the pearl at her throat when she said it, her voice as light as a lullaby.
In his eyes, I had always been nothing more than a servant. Someone who obeyed every command without question.
But after five years of living like that, I was tired. Completely tired.
My thumb found the inside edge of my wedding band. I pressed it there until the metal bit into the skin.
I pulled the blanket over my head and said coldly, "I'm not feeling well. I don't want to go."
The space on the other side fell silent for a long time.
Then Dante stormed out angrily.
That very night, Dante and Serafina shot to the top of every tabloid feed and society column in the city.
In the video, Dante was carrying Serafina in his arms, rushing into the private clinic on the Family's payroll, shouting for help. His expression looked anxious, almost frantic. The Don of the Bellandi Family, a man whose hand never shook, looked undone for a woman who wasn't his wife.
The gossip columns and neighborhood faithful exploded with excitement.
"Is Dante Bellandi finally making it official?"
"He carried her right through the front doors. I would kill for that."
"Doesn't anyone care what actually happened to Serafina?"
"I know someone on the crew. She said her forehead felt a little warm, and Dante picked her up immediately and drove to the clinic himself."
"I always knew they were perfect together."
I scrolled through the comments quietly. Then my phone rang.
It was Dante.
Before I could even say anything, he began explaining in a hurry. "Bianca, I only took Serafina to the clinic because she said she had a fever. I was worried it would affect the event schedule. That's all. Don't misunderstand the tabloids. There's really nothing between us."
