Just as everything faded, strong arms wrapped around me, pulling me out of death's embrace.
"Bianca!" The voice rumbled like thunder through fog.
Dominic.
His worrying eyes were the last thing I saw before going limp in his arms.
When I woke, the gentle sweet scent of lilies filled the room. A large bouquet rested on the table beside my bed, white petals fresh and trembling like they had been placed there with care.
My fingers trembled as I reached for the folded note left beneath the flowers.
Bianca — The baby is doing well. Please don't worry about her.
I know lilies are your favorite and bring you comfort. I wanted to stay, but the Bratva hit one of our border operations and I had to leave immediately.
I don't want you to face anything alone again, Bianca. Not now, not ever. Please answer me — are you willing to marry me?
My breath caught as I lifted my phone to reply.
Bianca: Okay. This Sunday. Let's get married.
Three days passed in the hospital, and not once did Nico show up.
On the third day, I finally opened my phone only to find it flooded with Serafina's photos. Rumpled sheets in the background as shadows mingled intimately in the candlelight. Photos of Nico kissing her belly affectionately, cooking for her and spending every night at her place.
The memories flooded my mind like a curse.
When I was nineteen, I burned dinner so badly the kitchen filled with smoke. I stood there on the verge of tears, but Nico sat down and ate every bite, smiling like it was the best meal he ever had. Then he gently pushed me out of the kitchen, kissed my forehead, and said softly, "You are already everything to me, Bia. Let me do the rest." Then with a shy smile added, "That way… that way I will know how to cook when our daughter arrives."
That careful, earnest love was gone and reduced to the cold hatred I felt in this instant. It was then a message chimed on my phone.
Nico: I am willing to overlook what happened earlier.
Tomorrow, I will accompany you to choose the wedding dress. Don't disappoint me again.
Once the Southern Shipping Route deal is finalized, everything will be in order.
I stared at the screen for a long moment before replying.
The deal you feel smug about is already cancelled, Nico.
Bianca: Fine.
I didn't bother explaining that the wedding gown I would be choosing had nothing to do with him.
The next morning, I was discharged only to find Serafina accompanying Nico to "help her sister." I didn't speak, sitting with my hands folded in my lap, watching the city blur past the window as Serafina filled the silence. One of Nico's soldiers drove. Another sat in the passenger seat, eyes forward, hand resting on his lap in a way that wasn't casual.
The car finally stopped before the most exclusive bridal boutique in the city.
Serafina smiled and turned to me, her eyes shining with soft triumph. "Look, Sister," she said gently. "Everything here is reserved for the most deserving bride."
As soon as we entered, the sales assistant greeted us with polished enthusiasm, guiding us through the season's finest designs.
My steps slowed as one dress caught my eye.
Ivory and elegant. Just like my mother's wedding gown that was "accidentally" torn by Serafina.
My fingers trembled as I reached out slowly, afraid to taint it, when a voice echoed lightly.
"That one… that is my dream dress."
Before I could touch it, a sharp pain burst across my skin.
SLAP!
My hand flew back as the sound echoed through the boutique, red bruises blooming instantly where Nico's palm had struck.
For a second, Nico stilled, his hand frozen mid-air as if he had only just realized what he had done.
"Bianca… I… that… that doesn't suit you," he explained hurriedly before pointing toward another rack randomly. "That one is best for you."
The sales assistant hesitated, confusion flickering across her features. "Sir… are you sure? You really want your bride to wear that?"
The moment my gaze followed where Nico pointed, a dull ache blossomed in my chest.
Black.
A mourning dress that shone like gems.
I saw the realization strike his eyes a second too late, his lips parting as if to correct himself.
"I saw wrongly. If you are upset, choose whatever you like—"
"I will wear it," I said softly.
The words fell into the boutique like a final bell.
"Bianca, you…" Nico said, stunned, his gaze searching my face, unsettled, like he was looking for tears that never came.
Before the silence could stretch any further, Serafina's voice slipped in gently. Her fingertips drifted to her collarbone, eyes glistening with tears that shimmered but never fell.
"Sister… I am so sorry… today was ruined because of me."
"To make up for it, would you… come to Sunday dinner tonight?" she offered, eyes reddening as if guilt weighed heavily on her heart. "Father misses you terribly. His heart condition worsened after you cut off all contact."
Hearing those words, the small flicker of guilt lingering in Nico's eyes vanished instantly.
"Alright," I replied, making her innocent facade crack for a moment.
I agreed. Not for her.
But because once, my brothers had been my shelter, my twin's footsteps always half a breath behind mine, his hand reaching for mine whenever he was afraid. Before bloodlines mattered, they had loved me without conditions. This would be my final farewell to those memories.
When we finally reached my childhood home, everyone was already seated. The Ferrante house smelled the same as it always had. Garlic and rosemary in the walls. Old wine in the cellar below. The long dining table with its white cloth and heavy silverware, places set with the precision my father demanded.
Father didn't look at me. My brothers didn't greet me. Their attention belonged solely to Serafina.
"You shouldn't strain yourself," Father said gently, his voice softening in a way I barely recognized. He cut his food slowly as he spoke, each piece exactly the same size, the knife never pausing. "Especially in your condition."
Then, as if continuing a thought already settled in his mind, he said, "Serafina was always a kind child… gentle and considerate. She would make a far better wife to lead the household."
Only then did his gaze flick toward me, cold and already done.
"When Bianca ran away, I feared she would truly go astray. Nico, we are grateful you took responsibility for this rebellious child."
Something cold slid down my spine.
The room stilled.
"It wasn't me who was impregnated by an unknown man and still walked through the Family without shame." My eyes lifted, steady.
"Shouldn't Father first ask his 'good daughter' which man she chose to share her bed with?"
CLANG!
A hand slammed hard against the table.
"You shameless woman, do you think Serafina is like you!" My elder brother Tomas exploded, his voice ripping through the room as he stood up furiously. "Wasn't killing Mom enough that now you even want to sow discord in our family?!"
My fingers went numb against the edge of the table. "I… I never—"
"Oh really?" My twin brother Elena stood, his gaze sliding downward slowly until it landed on my stomach with disgust. He cracked his knuckles one at a time, starting with the left hand.
"Let it be, brother." He smirked. "Maybe God saw what kind of woman she was and kept her barren for years. Even when she conceived… it was all but a dead child."
Something broke then.
Not loudly. Not dramatically. Just the quiet understanding that I had loved people who never once tried to love me back.
For years, I had stood between my twin and Father's temper, taken the blows meant for him, swallowed my own pain so he could remain unscarred.
But from beginning to end, none of them ever looked back.
"Brother Elena," Serafina sobbed softly then, clutching at his sleeve. "Please… don't say such things. Sister didn't mean it."
Nico looked at me sharply and did not bother to defend me, as if saying I deserved it.
It was then Father cut in sharply, his impatience freezing the room. The knife in his hand hadn't stopped moving once.
"Enough. Serafina especially cooked the meal herself despite being pregnant. Must you always ruin the atmosphere, Bianca?! Go on and serve the food. That's all you are good for!"
I stood, unable to breathe. My fingers drifted to the hollow of my throat where my mother's locket once hung. There was nothing there. My hand dropped, and my jaw set.
"I am leaving."
Nico's hand closed around my arm, rough and unyielding.
"You will not," he said quietly. "Didn't you already ruin everything… I am already at my limit, Bianca."
"No—"
"Do it," he said quietly, his grip tightening.
"Or I will announce to the entire Family that your mother died because of your weakness. That the Bratva came for you and she stepped in to die because you couldn't even protect yourself."
My world tilted violently as he twisted the deepest of my wounds and tore it open.
I turned toward the kitchen because there was nowhere else to go.
Each step felt heavy as I carried the food back. I settled into my seat with a heavy silence, and each mouthful felt like I was chewing on cold wax.
Then warmth touched my lip.
I wiped it absently and stared at the blood on my fingers. It dripped slowly onto the white tablecloth.
My chest tightened, breath coming shallow and sharp. I lifted my eyes to Serafina.
She met my gaze and smiled, mouthing a word when no one was watching.
Peanuts.
I huffed, clawing at my chest, deathly allergic.
"Bianca—" Nico noticed first before Serafina screamed.
"My stomach!"
She doubled over, clutching herself as panic erupted instantly around her.
Chairs scraped back. Nico rushed to her side. My father and brothers surrounded her, voices overlapping in fear.
"Call the doctor!"
No one looked at me.
I gripped the edge of the table, blood trickling down as my vision darkened, my lungs burning as if the air itself had abandoned me.
They rushed her out.
And I was left behind, struggling to breathe.
