With that thought settled cold in my chest, I left a comment under Bianca's latest video, the one her followers were already flooding with praise:
Serafina Costa: [I wish you a hundred years of happiness and an early birth]
Not long after the message posted, the video vanished.
Shortly after, my phone rang. Lorenzo. I let it ring out. Then, with the same cold indifference he had shown me for ten years under the Falcone roof, I blocked his number.
I remembered then. Today was the day they returned my mother's ashes to me. I told the Family's private physician what I needed and signed myself out ahead of the schedule he'd set. Dr. Bruno didn't like the color of me, that much was plain, and he took it upon himself to come along.
When they placed my mother's urn in my hands, I did not fall apart the way I had braced for. Instead something deep inside me finally snapped. The last chain binding me to this wretched life, the debt that had bought and sold me, gone.
I drew a breath and murmured a quiet goodbye to Dr. Bruno before heading back to the Falcone compound to pack my things.
The moment I crossed into the living room I saw two people. Lorenzo and Bianca, tangled together on the sofa.
At the sight of me, Bianca hurried the zipper of her dress up her spine. But no amount of covering could hide the red marks on her skin, the evidence of what they'd been doing. Her hand went to the diamond at her throat, touching it as if to remind herself what she was worth here.
I felt nothing. No anger. No heartbreak. I simply turned and walked to the bedroom as though I'd seen nothing at all, as though the two of them were no more than ghosts drifting through a house that had never been mine.
By the time I finished packing, Bianca was gone. Lorenzo remained, drinking alone. The bottle beside him was already half spent, and he poured again without once glancing at the glass.
As I came out with my suitcase, he finally looked up. The low light of the room cut shadows across his face, and I could read nothing there.
"Serafina, where were you today?" he asked.
"None of your business."
I had no wish to say more, but Lorenzo set the wine glass down and it slipped from his fingers.
He crossed the room to me in three long strides.
"Don't play so pure and untouchable," he sneered. "You think I don't know? You were out whoring around, weren't you?"
I went still. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"Serafina, are you so starved for company?" His voice dropped low, quiet in the way that men in this Family go quiet before something breaks. "You think I've been neglecting you, so you ran into someone else's arms. That it? Fine. For your loneliness, I'll be the one to fulfill you."
And with that he tore at my clothes and dragged my hand toward the bed.
Panic surged through me. I fought him, thrashing, and got out, "Lorenzo, are you insane?! I just gave birth!"
But he wasn't listening. Like a wild animal, he bit down on my shoulder, his breath hot and ragged against my skin.
Rage and disgust flooded through me. With everything I had left, I shoved him back and struck him across the face.
The room went still for a fraction of a second. Even the silence seemed to be holding its breath.
Then his eyes darkened.
The enraged Lorenzo would not be the one to give ground. Without hesitation he seized the glass bottle from the table and hurled it at me.
Bang! !!
Pain exploded across my forehead, and warm blood trickled down my face.
Lorenzo froze for a split second, then moved toward me on instinct, as if to catch what he'd already broken.
"Why don't you know how to dodge," he muttered under his breath.
I stumbled back a few steps, trying to find my footing, trying to shape words. But my body gave out first. The world blurred, then faded into black.
