"No." My voice came out steady as I pulled my arm back. "I'm not giving her my blood."
Celia's expression darkened immediately. "Don't do this again, Seraphina. She has leukemia. She needs transfusions. You're compatible."
"That isn't my problem," I replied, refusing to budge. "I'm not the only one barely holding it together."
Marco stepped closer, jaw tight. "How can you be this selfish? She's dying, Seraphina."
"She isn't dying," I shot back. "She's pretending, like she always did when we were kids just to avoid chores and homework."
Enzo raised his voice. "That's enough. You sound crazy."
Before I could react, hands were on my arms.
All of them.
I struggled. I kicked. I twisted. But I was still weak, still bruised, still exhausted, and there were three of them. They dragged me out of the compound like I didn't belong to myself anymore, shoved me into the back seat of the black sedan, and drove straight to the Marchetti-operated clinic on the East Side.
I barely had time to breathe.
Within an hour, I was strapped down.
No one asked for my consent.
No one listened when I begged them to stop.
Needles. Tubes. Bags filling with dark red liquid while the Family physician exchanged uneasy looks with the nurse at the number of vials being ordered.
The world tipped sideways.
And then everything went black.
When I woke up, I felt empty.
Like someone had scooped the life out of me and left the shell behind. My limbs were heavy. My chest felt cold. My head spun as my eyes adjusted to the light.
The first face I saw was the last one I ever wanted.
Vera.
She sat beside my bed, holding a small tray. The clinic room smelled of antiseptic and lilies she must have brought herself. Always staging.
"You're awake," she said softly. "I brought you something to eat."
For a split second, my heart almost believed her.
Then everything came rushing back.
I swiped the tray away. The plate hit the floor with a sharp crash.
The door flew open.
Celia. Enzo. Marco.
"What's wrong with you?" Marco barked. "She went through the trouble of bringing you food."
"You're unbelievable," Celia added. "She's trying to fix things and you act like this?"
"You forced me!" I shouted, my throat burning. "You held me down and took my blood!"
"Seraphina…" Vera murmured, her voice trembling. Her fingers drifted to the inside of her left wrist, pressing lightly against the pulse point. "Please don't be like this. You're my sister. I only wanted peace between us."
She stepped closer and leaned in as if to hug me.
Her lips brushed my ear.
"You see it now?" she whispered sweetly. "They've already chosen. So behave."
My body went still. Celia's stare turned sharp. "Apologize. Now."
My hands clenched the sheets. "I didn't do anything wrong."
Enzo stepped forward slightly. "Careful." My throat tightened.
"…Fine," I said quietly. "I'm sorry."
Not because I meant it.
Because I didn't have the strength to keep fighting.
They relaxed. Satisfied. Like they'd corrected something broken.
I closed my eyes and turned my face to the wall, pretending to sleep, pretending I couldn't hear Vera's soft fake crying or my brothers' murmured comfort.
I stayed that way until they finally left.
That night, my phone buzzed.
Lorenzo: Tomorrow's the day. Are you still in?
I stared at the screen and typed back.
Yes.
The following morning, I didn't want to leave the clinic.
My body still ached. My heart felt worse. Every part of me wanted to disappear.
But Celia didn't ask. He told me.
"We're doing this," he said coldly. "You owe it to Vera. You promised. Stop acting like a child."
So I went.
Not because I wanted to.
Because saying no only meant more yelling, more blame, more guilt shoved down my throat like bitter medicine.
I wore a soft, pale dress, the same one from our very first date. Back when I believed in things like forever. Back when he held my hand like it meant something. Back when I thought I mattered.
He said to meet him at a trattoria on neutral ground. Just us. To fix things. So I waited.
I arrived early. I wasn't sure if I hoped he'd show up… or if I hoped he wouldn't.
The waitress brought water.
Then came back. Then came back again. Minutes turned into an hour. Then another.
"I'll be waiting for someone," I told her with a small smile. "He should be here soon."
He wasn't. Neither were Marco or Enzo.
I checked my phone. Nothing.
The water got warm. The music changed. My back started to hurt from sitting too straight, for too long.
I kept looking at the door.
Maybe now. Maybe now. Then my phone vibrated.
Vera.
Of course.
Vera: Looks like they can't make it, sister. They're busy… with me. Enjoy your dinner alone.
Below the message were photos of them together. The four of them at the compound. Laughing. Vera at the center of the table, right where I used to sit.
Once, I would've cried. This time, I didn't.
I stood up calmly and called the manager over.
"I need to leave a few things here," I said.
From my bag, I placed a small bundle on the table.
A copy of our unsanctioned marriage papers, the documents that had never been sworn before witnesses, never recognized by anyone who mattered. The clinic report confirming the loss of my baby. The ring he'd given me five years ago.
"If he comes asking," I said quietly, "tell him Seraphina Carbone doesn't exist anymore."
My thumb pressed against the bare hollow of my throat where a pendant once hung. There was nothing there. There hadn't been for a long time.
I turned and walked out.
The bell above the door chimed once, clean and final.
Lorenzo was already waiting on the sidewalk.
Just like he promised.
A dark car idled at the curb behind him, engine running, one of his soldiers standing at attention by the rear door. Lorenzo ignored all of it. He stepped toward me and held out his hand.
"Ready?"
I nodded. "Completely."
He led me to the car, and we drove straight for the private airstrip the Marchetti family kept outside the city.
Inside the car, I looked at my phone. Old photos, old messages, names that no longer meant anything.
I opened the SIM tray. I removed it. I dropped it into the console bin.
Gone.
As I boarded the plane beside Lorenzo, a calm I hadn't felt in years settled into my chest.
Tomorrow, they might notice I'm gone. They might panic. They might search.
But they will never find me.
Never again.
