Serafina's POV
When I opened my eyes, the faint smell of antiseptic and dried herbs filled my nose. I was lying on a cot in the family doctor's quarters, and the old man smiled warmly at me.
"Good thing you were brought here in time," he said, his voice gentle but firm.
I tried to respond, but my throat felt raw, and no words came. The pain I'd felt before was gone, but a deep exhaustion lingered.
"You should never touch anything with nightshade berries again. It's poison to you, child," the doctor scolded lightly, patting my cold hand. "Elisa brought you here, begging me to save you. You're meant to be the lady of this house someday. You must take better care of yourself."
His words were kind, but they stung. Lady of the house. A title I once believed in, a dream I had cherished for so long. Now it felt hollow.
The doctor handed me a small vial. "This will help. Take it three times a day for the next two days, and you'll recover."
I managed a small nod, grateful for his care. I spent the day resting, the quiet allowing me to gather my thoughts. But my fragile peace shattered when the door creaked open and Dante walked in.
His face, once a source of comfort, now brought a pang of pain. He looked weary.
He knelt beside my bed, taking my hand in his. "Serafina, thank God you're okay. I'm sorry I didn't come sooner. Camilla, she's been so sick, and she needed me with her."
The words stabbed at my heart, reopening wounds I thought couldn't hurt any more. I wanted to scream, to tell him how close I'd come to dying while he sat at her bedside. But the words wouldn't come.
Dante caressed my cheek, his touch achingly familiar. For a moment I let myself believe it was just for me. But deep down, I knew it wasn't.
"I'll come back soon," he promised, standing. "But I need to check on Camilla. Don Waverly's daughter is under my protection, and I won't have anyone saying I neglected her. You understand, don't you? Don't be jealous. This is just my duty."
He kissed my forehead softly, the way he used to, and then he was gone. Gone to her.
He never came back after.
I heard from Elisa, one of the few people inside Ricci walls I trusted, that Dante had left with Camilla to settle a dispute with another Family. The news crushed me. Once, I was the one he leaned on, the one he trusted at his side. Now Camilla had taken my place.
As I sat in the quiet of my room, my gaze fell on the wooden box where I kept the 498 letters Dante had written me. Each one had been a promise, a vow that when it reached 500, he'd ask for my hand.
But it had been six months since the last letter.
My hands trembled as I touched the box, the weight of the memories too heavy to bear. Finally I closed it and stood. I couldn't stay in this room full of broken promises.
I made my way to the front of the estate, hoping the air and the children of the soldiers I tutored would soothe my aching heart. But I stopped in my tracks when I saw him.
Dante stood there, laughing with Camilla. He was helping her carry a basket of fresh apples, his smile brighter than I'd seen in months.
Once, the sight of them together would have set jealousy burning through me. Now I just felt empty.
Camilla noticed me first, her sweet smile widening as if she hadn't stolen everything from me. "Serafina. Would you like some apples? Massimo had a crate sent up. Dante said you love them."
Dante turned, smiling at me as though nothing had changed. "Serafina loves apple pie," he said.
I shook my head, keeping my voice level. "No. I don't like it."
His smile faltered. "What? You do. We both love it."
"No," I repeated, firm. "You do. I don't."
Camilla's face twisted into a mock expression of hurt, her hand fluttering to her stomach. "Did I do something wrong, Serafina? I only wanted to share."
Her voice grated on my nerves, but I forced a polite smile. I saw through the act, the way she played the victim so effortlessly. Every time I refused her, Dante treated me like I'd wronged his precious Camilla.
"Serafina," Dante snapped, his voice sharp. "Camilla's only being kind. Can't you make an effort? She's done nothing but try, and you're being unreasonably rude."
I swallowed the bitterness rising in my throat. Once I would have argued. But I was tired. So tired of always being the one to apologize, of always being dismissed.
"Thank you for the apples, Camilla," I said, forcing gratitude into my voice as I took three from the basket. "I'll be heading to the children now."
I turned to leave, but Dante grabbed my arm.
