In the middle of the night, the sharp chime of an encrypted message jolted me awake. My head felt heavy as I reached for my phone. It was already 1 AM. The room was silent, and when I turned slightly, the space beside me was empty, the sheets untouched and cold.
I unlocked my phone and saw several messages from Serafina. The first one made my fingers pause. "My big brother is so handsome! I want to eat him up while he's sleeping…" The words felt playful, but something about them made my chest tighten.
There was a photo attached. Dante was sleeping peacefully, his head resting on a pink cartoon pillow. His usually neat hair was messy, falling over his forehead, softening his sharp features. His eyes were closed tightly, and his thin lips were slightly pursed, making him look strangely vulnerable. The signet ring he never removed caught the lamplight on his still hand.
I stared at the image for a moment. Then I noticed the words "The other party is typing…" appear. Almost immediately after, the messages disappeared. Serafina had deleted them.
A second later, she sent a cute kitten meme with a pleading expression. Then another message followed. "I meant to send that to my best friend, but accidentally sent it to you. Dante is asleep. I was just joking and took a sneak photo. Don't blame him, okay?"
She probably thought I would react the same way as before. In the past, I would have called Dante right away, demanding an explanation. But this time, I didn't. I simply blocked her and put my phone aside.
Whether she was joking or not didn't matter anymore. I didn't want to know the truth, and I didn't care to find out. I closed my eyes and went back to sleep.
The next morning, Dante and Serafina came to the counting house together. Two soldiers flanked them at the door before peeling off to their posts. Serafina walked carefully, one hand lightly protecting her belly. Even so, she suddenly stumbled, her face turning pale with fright.
Before anyone could react, Dante stepped forward and picked her up without hesitation. He carried her straight inside. Serafina wrapped her arms around his neck, blushing, and as they passed me, she shot me a faint, triumphant glance. Her fingers smoothed the thin strap of her blouse near her collarbone, just once, a small satisfied gesture.
Associates nearby leaned in and whispered. "She can't even tell a ledger from a receipt," someone said quietly. "Yet she's been the Don's personal courier for half a year. Do you think Don Ravazzani actually likes her?"
I was messaging my consigliere-linked attorney at the time. Without looking up, I casually nodded and said, "Maybe." My tone was calm, as if it had nothing to do with me.
Just then, a familiar voice called out, "Bianca, come here." I turned around and saw Dante standing behind me, his expression cold.
No one in the Family's fronts knew we were married. Dante kept the church-sanctioned union sealed, hidden from every associate, every capo, every soldier who passed through these rooms. In public, we were nothing more than colleagues on the legitimate side of the operation. To avoid suspicion, he always treated me with distance.
There was once when I had a fever of 40 degrees. I could barely stand and went to him for help. But he quickly shook off my hand, afraid of being seen, and told me to ask the house manager for leave instead.
Yet whenever Serafina said her stomach hurt, he would cancel sit-downs without hesitation and take her to the Family's private clinic himself. The difference had always been that obvious.
I followed him into the back room. Serafina was arranged to rest behind the partition. Once we were alone, Dante walked over and took my hand. "Are you still angry?" he asked in a low voice.
I pulled my hand away, my tone distant. "I told you, I'm not angry." I didn't look at him.
He placed his hand on my shoulder, gripping it tighter as he stared at me. "Still being stubborn? You didn't call me last night. Not even a message. And you say you're not angry?"
I paused for a second before replying, "Serafina was there. She's your courier. Of course she would take good care of you." My voice was calm.
His expression darkened instantly. His grip tightened, making me wince. I tried to pull away, but in the struggle, he pushed me onto the sofa.
As I sat up, I felt something beneath my hand. I reached into the gap and pulled it out. It was a pink lace bra, delicate and unfamiliar.
The moment Dante saw it, his anger disappeared. "This is…" he started, clearly trying to explain.
I didn't let him finish. I tossed it back onto the sofa. "If there's nothing else, I'll be leaving now, Don Ravazzani," I said lightly.
