Chapter 1

Five years into marriage, Silvia Serra becomes both Dante Valenti's most lethal weapon and his most invisible presence.

She shields him from bullets. She crosses a freezing river for him. Her scars accumulate, and his response is an assumption that it is how things are meant to be.

In time, Dante grows repulsed by the violence clinging to her. He derides her lack of charm and gives his warmth to another woman instead.

He allows others to grind down her dignity, and with a new lover in his arms, he openly stains her name.

Silvia tolerates it so she can continue guarding him.

Everyone mocks her as if she's numb to it all, driven away again and again, but never truly gone.

Then comes the night of pounding rain. Cast aside without ceremony, Silvia erases every sign she was ever there and leaves with finality.

Dante treats it as nothing more than sulking, convinced she will return within three days.

Later, the once-untouchable Don was seen on his knees at Silvia's feet, stripped of all pride, begging her to turn back and look at him just once.

Chapter 1

On the night marking five years of marriage, Dante Valenti, the Don of the Valenti family, once again became a target of his enemies.

Silvia Serra, acting as the Donna, stayed behind to secure his retreat. She eliminated the group of soldati alone and withdrew only after taking a wound.

The heavy smell of gunpowder and blood still hung in the air.

She opened the door to see Dante on the couch with his lover, Lucia Pellini. They were locked in a deep kiss, lips and tongues entwined in a way that left no room for doubt.

The cold violence surrounding Silvia disturbed the stillness of the room. Lucia immediately drew back into Dante's embrace. Her lips were wet, and she looked toward Silvia with a timid, shaken expression.

"Silvia, mi dispiace. My hypoglycemia hit. I couldn't swallow by myself. Dante was only helping me…"

Dante remained seated. As the Don of the family, he was accustomed to being in command. He rested a hand on the back of the couch and studied Silvia calmly.

"What happened to you?" he asked.

The wound on her right shoulder, split open by a folding knife, was so deep that bone was visible. Still, the husband she had spent years protecting seemed not to see it at all.

Silvia stepped into the living room, blood marking every step. "It couldn't be helped. They meant it this time. It wouldn't have ended without close-range fighting."

Dante finally noticed the injury. He stood and moved toward her, catching her before she lost her balance.

"You are seriously hurt?"

His voice always rose at the end when concern slipped through.

"Enrico will arrive in two minutes. Sit down and stay still."

As Silvia was about to sit, Lucia let out a sharp cry. "There's blood. There's so much blood! I'm frightened…"

Within a family defined by violence and death, Lucia was the only one permitted to keep her innocence.

Dante's hand stiffened where it held Silvia's arm. Then, he let go without hesitation.

She lost her balance and crashed to the floor. The wound tore open, and blood soaked into the costly carpet beneath her.

He was already holding Lucia close, one arm wrapped around her, the other shielding her eyes. His voice dropped into a quiet reassurance. "It's alright. Don't be scared. You're safe."

By the time the family doctor, Enrico Ottolini, stepped inside, Silvia had been ordered into the guest room.

Enrico readied the anesthetic. "Donna Valenti, the injury is severe. The wound reaches the nerves. It needs to be cleaned and stitched immediately, or the arm will be ruined. Please endure it.

"I'm going to give you an anesthetic."

"No anesthesia," Dante said flatly.

He stood at the edge of the light, leaning against the doorframe, slowly rolling a cigar between his fingers.

"Don Valenti, that means stitching her while she's fully awake! We're talking a dozen or more. Even if she stays conscious, the pain could send her into shock!"

"She can endure it."

The certainty in Dante's voice carried the distant, unquestionable authority of someone used to being obeyed.

"Silvia is not like other women. She has taken a gunshot wound and removed the bullet herself. With tensions rising between the families, she serves as my personal protection and is responsible for my security.

"Anesthesia would interfere with her reflexes."

He stepped closer as he spoke and leaned down to meet Silvia's eyes, his smile warm. "This amount of pain is nothing to you, right?"

After 28 years side by side, she knew exactly what he was doing, including now. He was waiting for her to nod.

Silvia frowned, looking away. "Dr. Ottolini, please proceed without it."

"But—"

"Now!"

Dante walked away. As he always did, he kissed Silvia's earlobe before leaving. It was the gesture he used when she had done exactly as he expected.

The needle pierced her skin again and again, working through muscle and flesh. Each stitch brought a sharper pain than the last.

Silvia gripped the corner of the table. The muscles along her neck tightened, veins visible beneath the skin, her nails cracking from the force of her hold.

She had been trained by Dante from a young age and pushed harder than anyone else. She had never thought that all that discipline and restraint would be used for this.

When the last stitch was done, Enrico cut the suture and looked at her weakened state with quiet reluctance. "Donna Valenti, it's done."

"Thank you."

Silvia let go of her numbed hand and made her way back to the living room, her steps uneven.

Dante was already on the stairs with Lucia in his arms. He paused when he heard her approach. From the landing above, he looked down at her. His gaze was distant, his face stripped of warmth.

Silvia waited, half expecting him to say something soft.

After a long moment, his voice came down to her, flat and controlled.

"Silvia, clean this up before you rest. Don't track blood everywhere. Lucia will have nightmares if she sees it."

Chapter 2

The next evening, a black bulletproof sedan eased into a top-tier luxury jewelry store designated as a neutral zone.

Dante was behind the wheel. He brought Silvia into a private VIP vault that was never open to clients.

"Yesterday was your birthday. The Heart of the Sea arrived. I had it taken from an Azantrian warlord last year. I thought you should see it."

Silvia's right shoulder was still unhealed. The wound had yet to form a scab, and her expression was faintly unfocused.

There had been a time when their feelings were mutual. He had chosen her birthday for their wedding and promised that every year, on that same day, he would present her with a rare jewel as a pledge.

After that, another person came between them.

"Is your injury still painful?"

Dante met her eyes briefly in the rearview mirror, an uncharacteristic gesture of concern.

Silvia almost believed that what she had endured the night before, the ordeal of being stitched without anesthesia, had left him uneasy.

That belief faltered with Lucia seated beside him.

"Dante, the security here is incredible. It looks like something out of a film!" Lucia said brightly.

Silvia swallowed the sour weight in her chest. Her thoughts drifted to her mother, Rosetta Ceretti, and the words she had spoken before she died.

The Valenti family had once helped them. In repayment, Silvia had been trained harshly from a young age and had devoted herself to Dante's protection.

Now, even with someone else at his side, she continued to endure, honoring Rosetta's final wish.

In the inner room, the manager stepped forward in white gloves and presented a velvet case with both hands.

"Don Valenti, this is the piece you personally selected. The main diamond is 20 carats, with exceptional clarity. There is only one like it in the world."

The blue diamond was deep and luminous, recalling a tear taken from the sea itself.

Silvia's breath caught. Without thinking, she reached out, as though reaching for something she once believed in.

"It's beautiful! I've only seen diamonds like that on TV," Lucia said, her tone full of envy.

Her gaze soon dropped, and her voice softened.

"Silvia is so fortunate. I grew up in a slum. I nearly died fighting over a glass marble."

Dante had been examining the diamond's cut. Lucia's words drew his thoughts back to her past, to the years she spent fighting to survive, and pity quietly took hold.

He decided on the spot, his eyes crinkling with the same easy smile at Silvia. "Silvia, there's a tactical flaw in this necklace. It's not right for you."

Her fingers curled slightly. Her mood sank inch by inch.

"What's wrong with it?" she asked.

"You're responsible for my security. You're the family's sharpest blade. A necklace with a complex chain like this becomes a noose the moment a fight turns close range."

It was Silvia's birthday gift—proof that she was his wife, not just his soldato. She wasn't willing to compromise.

"Relax. No one in this area can get close to me."

Her pushback made Dante frown. He took it as stubbornness.

"I didn't say you can't wear it. But practicality comes first if you want to stay alive. Listen to me."

When he finished, his gaze shifted to Lucia's neck, and his voice softened. "Lucia, you've got a solo exhibition next week. As someone under my protection, how you present yourself reflects the family. I won't have other families looking down on you.

"Take this necklace and wear it. It'll hold the room."

Lucia looked up in shock, tears shining as she waved her hands. "I can't, Dante. That's Silvia's—"

"Don't refuse me," Dante cut her off. He picked up the priceless necklace and stepped behind her.

"Silvia doesn't care about dressing up. It'll just sit in a safe and gather dust. This suits your skin. With this on, I'd like to see who dares question your background."

He lowered his head and fastened the clasp at Lucia's neck, focused and gentle, every inch the devoted husband.

Silvia stood where she was, like someone who'd wandered into a world that was never meant for her.

Only after everything was settled did Dante seem to remember she was supposed to be the focus tonight.

"Oh, right. Didn't you have your eye on that Eisenland tactical knife before? I'll have the arms dealer send it over. I'll make it up to you with a top-tier personal combat loadout."

How considerate! He gave jewelry to the woman he loved and weapons to the soldato.

Silvia stayed stubborn. "I don't want compensation. I want what belongs to me."

Dante's gaze cooled, a warning slipping into his voice. "Don't push it! Top-grade weapons on the black market cost just as much as that pile of stones. I'm thinking of you.

"Wearing something like that while fighting is a good way to get yourself killed faster. Is that what you want?"

Lucia sensed the shift at once and hurried to explain, "Silvia, please don't be upset. I'm only borrowing it for a few days. If you really want it, I'll take it off right now."

She made a show of unfastening it, but her "clumsy" fingers couldn't get the clasp to budge, and panic reddened her eyes.

Dante pressed Lucia's hand down, his expression turning cold. "Enough! It's just a necklace. Is this really worth being this aggressive?"

He couldn't be bothered to look at Silvia again. He pulled Lucia along and strode for the door. "Ignore her. Come on. I'll take you to try the matching couture. Don't let this ruin your mood."

The manager stood awkwardly with the empty box. "Donna Valenti, how—"

"Throw it away."

A sharp burn flared again in Silvia's right shoulder. She drew her coat tighter around herself and let out a quiet breath.

"I'm sorry, Mom. I don't think I can hold on much longer. If I can't carry out your wish someday, please don't hold it against me."

She whispered the prayer to herself and tipped her head back, forcing the tears down.

Chapter 3

Rivoria's headlines were wall-to-wall with Lucia's name.

Dante had rented out the largest art museum for her solo exhibition. Every major faction showed up.

Silvia was there, too. As Dante's wife, she wore a black suit meant for a fight, with an earpiece tucked in, and disappeared into a corner.

It was Dante's order.

"Everyone here tonight runs a family. Too many eyes, too many risks. A gown would slow you down. Lucia's the focus. You handle the perimeter and keep anyone unwanted from getting near her."

Silvia stood behind a column and watched him take Lucia's arm beneath the lights.

Lucia wore a shimmering mermaid gown. Around her neck hung the Heart of the Sea, the necklace that should've been Silvia's, the blue diamond throwing off a cold gleam that spoke the language of power.

Voices murmured all around them.

"Don Valenti really dotes on Ms. Pellini. He even gave her a diamond necklace like that!"

"Where's Donna Valenti? Why hasn't she appeared?"

"Keep it down! What Donna? She's nothing more than an 'elite soldato.' Have you ever seen a proper society wife standing guard in menswear?"

Silvia rubbed the web of her right hand without thinking. Years of gripping a gun had left the skin rough and thick with calluses. It didn't belong anywhere near fine jewelry.

When it came time to unveil the final piece, Lucia reached for the red silk draped over the easel.

That was the moment everything went wrong. The main support cable of the crystal chandelier overhead had been cut.

Screams tore through the crowd.

Lucia froze, shock wiping out even the instinct to run.

"Move!"

Silvia's body reacted faster than her mind. She burst forward and slammed into them, driving Lucia and Dante toward the safe side.

The crash was deafening. The chandelier fell and struck Silvia hard across the back. The broken gold-plated frame tore straight through her skin.

She let out a muffled grunt as both knees slammed into the floor. Blood sprayed outward. A few bright drops splattered across the painting nearby and spread into a dark, blooming stain.

Dante scooped up Lucia at once, pulling her tight against his chest, his words rushing out. "Lucia! Are you hurt? Did any of the shards cut you?"

"Dante, I'm scared… No! The painting… My painting!"

Only after he was sure Lucia was completely unharmed did he whip his head around.

Silvia thought he'd come help her or at least call for someone. His shout hit her instead, sharp and sudden.

"Silvia! Are you blind? That was tonight's featured piece! Lucia poured everything she had into that painting!"

Silvia struggled to breathe as she tried to push herself up. "Help me. It hurts…"

Only then did the people around them react, rushing forward together to drag the chandelier off her.

Lucia stared at the painting, tears falling in heavy drops. "My painting's ruined! It's covered in blood. Dante, this was meant for you. Silvia destroyed it!"

Seeing Lucia cry only fed the violence in Dante's chest.

Silvia forced the words out through the pain, "It was an accident! If I hadn't shoved her away, she'd be dead right now!"

"That's what you're supposed to do! The family's kept you all these years. As a made man, it's your job to take the hit for me, even if it kills you! But ruining the thing she loves most is your failure!

"How do you think those hands of yours could ever repay Lucia for her painting? Even if you cut them off and sold them, it still wouldn't be enough."

Silvia's gaze dimmed all at once, and the change grated on him.

"What are you standing around for? Get her treated. How annoying!"

Silvia made her way toward the exit at a measured pace, his gentle reassurance forcing its way into her ears.

"Lucia, don't cry. I'll find the best restorer there is. Even if it can't be fixed, I'll build you ten galleries to make up for it, alright?"

Silvia walked down the hallway and remembered that those same hands had once shielded her from a falling steel beam.

Back then, as the heir to the family, Dante had lost control for the first time. He'd held her while she was soaked in blood, terror shaking through him, wishing he could take her place.

Time was ruthless. It could turn treasure into trash and vows into jokes.

Chapter 4

After the chandelier incident, Enrico warned Silvia that the tendon damage meant she couldn't let the wound get wet for at least half a month. Weapons training was off-limits as well.

The former Don had passed early. Dante now held the reins of the family, though several long-standing consigliere and branch elders remained.

Days later, the family gathered once again at Valenti Estate for the annual dinner.

Dante spent the whole dinner angled to the left, leaning in now and then to ask Lucia if everything tasted right, and left Silvia to herself.

"Lucia, try the spiny lobster that was flown in."

Lucia was dressed in a light pink off-the-shoulder dress, the Heart of the Sea still around her neck. She knitted her brows and shifted her gaze to the crawfish boil, its red shells glossy under the lights.

Her voice came out soft. "Dante, I'm in the mood for something spicy. But I've been drawing nonstop for the exhibition. My wrist's aching, and I can't peel the shells."

The senior members at the table watched nothing and said nothing. No one there was unaware of where Dante's favor now lay.

Dante nodded when he heard her. "An artist's hands exist to create beauty. They shouldn't be wasted on rough work. It risks damaging their sensitivity. That was my oversight."

When he raised his eyes again, his expression had settled into the familiar distance of the Don. "Silvia, peel the crawfish for Lucia."

Silvia raised her hands. Bandages wrapped them tightly, darkened by seeping medication. "My stitches haven't been removed. I can't do it."

"It's only crawfish. How much force could it possibly take?" Dante asked, displeased.

Being contradicted by a subordinate in front of the senior members struck at his authority.

"You used to set your own bones and keep fighting. Now you're fragile? Don't forget. The family doesn't keep deadweight."

"I…"

"That's an order."

Silvia recognized the signs of his anger at once, his brow tightening and the corners of his mouth dipping.

Rosetta's last words surfaced again.

Silvia finally put the spoon down and said, "Si."

The sharp edge of the crawfish shell pierced the bandage. Spice soaked into split skin, and pain washed over her until her vision dimmed.

Eventually, one whole crawfish was peeled and placed before Lucia. The meat was white and tender, streaked with the faintest red.

It was Silvia's blood.

Lucia yelped, clapped a hand over her mouth, and retched.

Dante slammed his cutlery down. "Silvia! Was this intentional?"

He pointed at the plate of crawfish, his stare dark and vicious.

"I told you to peel crawfish, and this is the scene you put on. Blood all over your hands. Who are you trying to show this to? Are you trying to tell everyone here I've been mistreating you?"

He was convinced she'd done it deliberately. A bloody display meant to disgust Lucia, ruin the dinner, and stage a silent protest against him.

Lucia hurried to soothe him. "Dante, don't be angry. Silvia might've just wanted your sympathy. I'll just skip it."

"You're not skipping it. I'll peel it for you myself."

Silvia watched Dante, the man she had once stood beside under gunfire, and his face suddenly felt terrifyingly unfamiliar.

She remembered taking a bullet for him and ending up with an infected wound, bedridden for a month. Back then, he never left her side.

The Don, who had been raised in comfort, learned to do a caretaker's job. His eyes were bloodshot from sleepless nights, his hand locked around hers as if letting go would let death take her.

In those days, he cried every time he bent to kiss her wound.

Now, to please Lucia, Dante forced Silvia into a maid's role and recoiled from her blood as if it were filth.

"Sorry for the interruption."

Silvia turned and walked straight out of the dining room. She didn't look back.

Dante watched the thin line of blood on the floor and felt an unexpected weight press against his chest. At some point, she'd grown into a weapon that rarely spoke.

Protecting him had become her entire design. She'd erased every trace of emotion, and the rigid discipline that replaced it was enough to choke the air out of him.

The woman who slept beside him felt like a weapon that couldn't feel pain, cold and unyielding as iron. Even now, she showed no temper. She even stood up and apologized, polite to the end.

Dante followed the bloodstains into the hall, hoping to catch a last glimpse of Silvia, but she was already gone. The emptiness unsettled him for no reason.

Chapter 5

That day marked the anniversary of Rosetta's death. She was Silvia's mother and also the person who saved Dante's life.

Years ago, she shielded him from a car crash explosion that would've killed him outright. Without her, the man known as the Don wouldn't exist.

On that day every year, regardless of where his arms business took him, he cleared his schedule. He wore a dark, formal suit and accompanied Silvia to the cemetery, where they knelt in silence.

Dante had spoken of it plainly. His biological mother died in childbirth. Rosetta, his nanny, raised him as her own and gave him the care he'd otherwise never known. She later died protecting him.

That exchange of lives became a burden he carried with him always, and he'd never dare forget it.

By 6:00 am, Silvia was already kneeling before the grave. She remained there through the slow hours, from early light to noon, until dusk settled in.

Cold had worked its way into her bones. Rain weighed down the bandage, soaked through and pulled at her skin, while the wound beneath it throbbed with a bloated, stinging ache that had gone nearly numb.

She took out her phone and placed the 33rd call.

"Sorry. The number you have dialed…"

It was the first time Dante was absent.

She was just about to text him when Lucia's update appeared without warning. The caption was all hearts, followed by a single sentence.

"Thank you, Dante, for helping me find my childhood again. This is the happiest day of my life!"

A carousel of nine photos showed none of the cold cemetery or the rain. They showed a carousel, cotton candy, and a fireworks display.

Dante wasn't wearing his usual suit. He had on a casual matching outfit that leaned almost juvenile, a pink balloon in his hand.

His eyes held no menace now. All that remained was his open affection for Lucia.

The photo in the center was taken at the highest point of the Ferris wheel. Fireworks burst across the sky behind them.

Inside the narrow car, Dante, the man everyone feared, cupped Lucia's face and kissed her deeply.

It was Rosetta's death anniversary. Silvia knelt in mud and rain for 12 hours waiting for him, and he spent the day with Lucia at an amusement park, kissing her high above the ground.

This was what "never dare forget" looked like in practice.

…

It was late at night when Silvia returned home.

Dante was seated with ointment in hand, gently working it into Lucia's ankle. "You must've had too much fun today. Your skin's rubbed raw."

The tone carried reproach, but his touch remained gentle.

Silvia entered at that moment. She brought the cold in with her and dropped her phone hard onto the coffee table.

"Do you even remember what day it is?"

Dante kept his focus on Lucia's ankle. His face stayed calm. "I do. It's Rosetta's death anniversary."

Silvia pointed at the rain streaking down the window. For the first time, she lost control and shouted at him, "Then, why weren't you there? I waited for you at the cemetery the entire day!

"My mother died saving you. She was blown to pieces for it! And on her death anniversary, you were kissing another woman on a Ferris wheel?"

Lucia looked startled. "Mi dispiace, Silvia. I wasn't feeling well today. I started thinking about my parents who passed away—"

Silvia cut her off, eyes cold, "Zitta! This isn't your place to speak!"

Dante moved Lucia behind him and finally lost his temper.

"Silvia Serra! Are you out of your mind? Lucia broke down today. She almost had a depressive episode. If I didn't stay with her, was I supposed to let her spiral?"

Silvia answered with a bleak smile, "What kind of illness gets cured by kissing someone else's husband? If you're so clear on priorities, why didn't you die in my mom's place back then?"

"Living people matter more than the dead!"

The blunt reply struck hard, breaking through everything Silvia had been holding together.

"Try to think rationally, Silvia. Rosetta's been gone for years. Whether I visit her or not, she can't feel it. That's something the living do for themselves. But Lucia's here. She's sensitive.

"She needs someone to protect her. You expect me to abandon her for some ritual meant for the dead?"

Silvia trembled, her chest rising and falling out of rhythm.

"If my mom hadn't shielded you with her own body, you'd be the one lying in the mud right now, waiting for people to perform empty rituals, Dante Valenti!"

Dante snapped like he'd heard it too many times already. "Enough! The Valenti family took you in and gave you the title of Donna Valenti. That settled that debt long ago! Stop guilt-tripping me with Rosetta's death!

"If Rosetta were alive and knew what Lucia's going through, she'd understand. She was loyal and kind. She wouldn't cling to old scores the way you do!"

Rosetta's life, and the last words she left Silvia with, the charge to protect Dante at all costs, were reduced to nothing but guilt-tripping.

He had broken their marriage vows, and he'd abandoned the very sense of honor the family held sacred, all for Lucia.

Silvia chose not to argue further. She studied him for a long time before saying, "You make me sick."

Dante turned a little, avoided her gaze, and said through clenched teeth, "Think whatever you want."

Chapter 6

Silvia was pregnant. It felt like a cruel twist of fate.

The doctor gestured to the test results, his expression grave. "Donna Valenti, this isn't an optimistic case. You've been taking neuropathic pain medication long-term.

"You've also suffered multiple serious injuries during missions. I need to be clear that, given your physical condition, trying to carry the pregnancy could lead to severe bleeding.

"The risk of maternal death is extremely high."

Silvia rested a hand over her belly. It was still flat beneath her palm.

"I'm going to have the baby."

She folded the ultrasound report with care. Her eyes held a stubbornness she'd never had before.

In a world full of betrayal and killing, she only wanted something truly hers, her own flesh and blood.

Before the good news could be shared, Silvia was hit with a stack of photographs that left her stunned.

The pictures showed her in a dark alley in the slums, caught mid-struggle with several heavily tattooed men. The shots were taken from carefully chosen angles, intimate enough to suggest a hookup.

"Explain."

Silvia's expression shifted as she answered cautiously, "Those men were just—"

Dante interrupted with a sneer, "Just your affairs? I thought you were cold by nature, Silvia. I didn't realize you were this filthy underneath. You're that desperate for excitement now that even street punks will do?"

Silvia snapped her head up. "I didn't! You know exactly what kind of person I am."

Dante tossed a crumpled piece of paper at her. "I used to. Not anymore. Lucia found this ultrasound report in your trash."

He read the line aloud, his smile crooked. "Eight weeks pregnant. I was busy expanding territory then. We slept together once, and you ended up pregnant. You really expect me to believe that?"

He'd already believed Lucia's whispers and decided Silvia was sleeping around.

"This is your child! You were drunk that night—"

Dante cut her off, closing his hand around her wrist, "If it's mine, we'll confirm it. We're going to the hospital!"

"No! The fetus isn't stable. An invasive test right now could cause serious harm. Do you want the baby dead?"

Dante moved in, his presence pressing down on her. "You won't agree? Then, I'll treat it like a bastard."

"Dante, are you insane? Even animals don't kill their own young!"

His reply was flat. "If it can't make it through something this basic, then it doesn't deserve my name."

"You—"

"Take her away."

Silvia could've fought them off without breaking a sweat. But with the child inside her, she didn't risk it, and they forced her into the car.

…

"Don Valenti, there's a very high chance this test could cause a miscarriage."

"Proceed."

Dante sat on the couch at St. Marelle's Private Hospital, his legs crossed as he lit a cigar. Smoke drifted between him and the scene, and he watched without emotion.

"But…"

The doctor started to protest, then fell silent when the gun appeared.

Silvia was bound to the bed, her limbs pinned and useless.

To Dante, only his dignity mattered. He'd rather make a fatal mistake than allow even the smallest stain to remain.

Silvia turned her head, a tear slipping from the corner of her eye. "Dante, you'll get what's coming to you! If the baby's hurt, you'll get what's coming to you!"

The doctor said helplessly, "Please try to relax. The more you struggle, the greater the risk—"

"Get away!"

Maternal instinct drowned out what little reason she had left.

She was Silvia Serra, with that man's blood in her veins, and she knew how to claw her way out of a dead end.

She broke free of the straps, snatched the tray, and caught the scalpel in a reverse grip. Several people went down in quick succession.

Dante heard the commotion and came back. He stopped short at the mess, his face darkening. "This is how you're protecting that bastard?"

Silvia retreated until her back hit the wall. Her voice came out hoarse. "Dante, you won't claim this baby, but I will. If you want to hurt my baby, you'll have to kill me first!"

Dante stubbed out the cigar, his mood tangled. "You think you're getting out? The whole building is locked down."

"Then try me!"

Silvia seized the fire extinguisher at her side and smashed it into the window. The glass shattered instantly.

Cries rang out, and she leapt from the third floor without a second thought.

"Silvia!"

Dante stared, then ran to the window.

Below, a lone figure cut across the grass before disappearing into the trees. For reasons he couldn't explain, the sight of her resolute escape sent a heavy pain through his chest.

Something was slipping out of his control.

Chapter 7

Silvia never thought she'd cross paths with Lucia while she was fleeing.

"Silvia! Help me!"

Lucia's conspicuous appearance drew masked attackers.

Silvia reacted without thinking, stepping in to protect the woman Dante held closest. She was forced into a fight before she dropped when a gun butt struck the back of her head.

She woke up in a freezer. Her wrists were bound behind her. The surgical gown she wore offered no protection against the -4°F.

Her teeth rattled. Frost gathered along her lashes. Pain bloomed in her lower abdomen, steady and alarming, a warning from the life inside her.

Lucia sat next to her in a heavy down jacket, cradling a cup of hot coffee for warmth.

"You… planned this?"

Lucia turned to her. "I did. And what about it? Dante pressured you into the test, but he was wavering. I couldn't let a risk sit there. How long do you think that bastard can survive inside you?"

Silvia breathed out a cloud of white. "You're insane! That's his child!"

Lucia let out a soft laugh, her gaze sharp and poisonous. "If you're dead or the baby's gone, who's going to care whose it was? Your enemies did this. What does that have to do with me? I'm a victim, too."

With a bang, a shaped charge blew a hole in the freezer door, and the air filled with the stink of explosives.

"Don Valenti, their firepower's overwhelming. They've got a sniper suppressing us. We can only cover you long enough to go in and extract one person! If we delay, the police will arrive, and they'll kill the hostages!"

Dante charged in with his gun raised. He wore a ballistic vest, his presence hard and lethal. As soon as he saw what was inside, the master tactician lost his composure. Alarm crossed his face.

Lucia had taken off her down jacket. She coughed and crawled toward the exit, feigning weakness. "Dante, save me!"

"Don't be scared! I'm here."

Dante picked her up and headed out, soothing her as he moved.

Silvia lay there with her eyes half closed, her lips blue with cold, completely ignored.

Something stirred in Dante, and he turned back. "Sil—"

A soldato rushed up. "They've thrown incendiaries! The ventilation system's about to explode. Don Valenti, move! We can only carry one. We have to take one now!"

Firelight turned the freezer doors red as heat met the cold head-on. Life or death came down to Dante's call.

"Take Lucia first."

As he crossed the threshold, Dante looked back and called out, "Silvia! You've been trained for extreme cold survival. You once lay in the snow for three days and nights! Hold on for ten minutes.

"Reinforcements are coming!"

Then, he went, leaving Silvia behind in the dead end.

She braced herself against the steel shelving and gave a quiet, hollow laugh.

She'd gone through polar training for him. To be fit to protect him, she'd stayed prone on the Glacera ice fields for three full days and nearly lost two toes to frostbite.

But had Dante forgotten? She wasn't the younger version of herself in peak condition anymore. She was a pregnant woman, still weak from jumping off a building to survive.

A sudden warmth spread beneath Silvia, jolting her awake from her thoughts.

"My baby!"

She'd never known fear in the face of knives or fire. But the loss of that fragile life terrified her beyond anything else.

"Don't go! Please… Don't leave your mom!"

Silvia felt something separating from her body. Blood streamed down her thighs and froze quickly, staining the floor red.

This was the child she'd protected with her life!

The baby hadn't died during the hospital test. It hadn't died from the fall. It was dying because of its biological father's rational decision!

Silvia curled in on herself, trying to warm her belly, but nothing stopped the life from slipping away.

"Dante… You win."

She had no tears left. Frost clung to her cheeks.

In that moment, the Silvia who'd loved Dante for 20 years was gone, along with the child she'd never get to meet.

Chapter 8

The reinforcements never showed up. Dante's promised ten minutes had turned into a full hour.

Just like Rosetta's death anniversary, he'd probably forgotten. While he was busy soothing Lucia, Silvia slipped his mind as well.

"Boss, this bitch looks like she's already dead!"

After the exchange of fire, the thugs assigned to watch Silvia returned.

"Stop talking and finish it! Ms. Pellini wants it to look like she froze to death by accident."

Footsteps approached. A military boot struck Silvia's shoulder hard. She didn't move.

The man lowered his guard and leaned down, reaching for her breath. "I'm freezing. She's bled that much. She's probably already…"

Silvia, who should've been long dead, suddenly opened her eyes.

With an audible crack, she forced her thumb bone out of joint and slipped free of the restraints. She seized the thug by the throat.

A butterfly knife slid from her sleeve and drove straight into his trachea. As he doubled over in pain, she used his momentum and slammed his head hard into the refrigeration pipe beside them.

Blood and bone burst outward. He never got a sound out before he went down.

"Fuck! This bitch was playing dead!"

The other man snapped to it and swung a steel bar.

Silvia had just miscarried. She could barely feel her lower body and couldn't dodge in time. She didn't retreat. She stepped in and took the blow.

Her forearm bone cracked, but she didn't slow. She slashed once, clean and decisive, and the man's throat opened.

Silvia coughed as she stripped a coat from the body and pulled it around herself. She dragged her numb legs forward, steadying herself against the wall as she made her way out.

Outside, the storm was violent, but the smell of wet grass told her she was still alive. She'd made it out.

The place was an abandoned logistics yard, overgrown and soaked through with mud. Her sight swam as she crawled through the sludge, moving on instinct.

A short distance away, the Cullinan's headlights pierced the rain as it approached at a slow crawl.

Was Dante coming back?

Silvia still let herself believe that if her life were at stake, he'd think twice. That he wouldn't leave her behind so ruthlessly.

The vehicle came to a stop, close enough for her to see the rear seat clearly. Dante had Lucia wrapped in a cashmere throw and was feeding her milk a sip at a time.

"Stop the car first. She might choke."

He took a handkerchief and wiped Lucia's cheek with careful patience.

Lucia spoke with practiced concern, "Dante, are we really not waiting for Silvia? She's still inside."

Dante replied in a calm, measured voice, "No. This area's remote, and the signal's poor. I've already contacted a nearby rescue team. They'll arrive shortly.

"Silvia has professional training. This kind of cold won't kill her. You're different. You've been shaken. You need to get treatment immediately."

After Lucia finished the last sip, Dante immediately spoke to the driver, "Drive! Take us home. Have the hospital director ready the anti-shock treatment and psychological intervention specialists."

"Si, Don Valenti."

Silvia lay sprawled in the mud, wanting to call out to tell him she was cold as well.

Her child was gone, her finger was broken, and she had fractured bones. She wasn't as indestructible as he thought. She was close to death.

Blood and foam filled her throat, leaving her unable to speak.

The luxury car's tires spun hard as it sped through standing water. As they departed, mud was thrown up and scattered in all directions.

A mass of black sludge mixed with grit and dead leaves splattered across Silvia's face. Some of it entered her mouth, rank and filthy. She coughed the mud and sand out, lay back, and stopped fighting.

Was it about to end like this?

She closed her eyes and let the heavy rain take her.

In the last moment before she lost consciousness, she heard the shriek of brakes and a rush of footsteps closing in.

Someone cried out, voice breaking, "Principessa!"