My Father Was Framed, My Baby Was Lost, and He Paid the Price

After the union between our bloodlines was sealed, I went to collect the rings that would bind me to the Marchetti name, only to find the velvet case held two.

One was mine.

The other belonged to Damiano's childhood sweetheart, Adriana Crocetti.

I carried the rings back to the estate, ready to make him answer for it, and walked instead into Damiano leading a pregnant Adriana through the front doors as if she'd always belonged there.

The moment I crossed the threshold, the two of them carried themselves like the rightful owners of the house. Damiano spoke without lifting his voice, already issuing orders the way a Don issues them.

"Adriana needs someone to look after her now. You'll cook for her every day, and the meals will be nutritious. She's fragile, so she takes the master suite. Go pack your things."

I ignored him. I no longer cared to ask about the rings at all. I turned toward my room.

My phone rang. My mother's voice trembled with tears.

"Your father. He's been beaten. They've crippled him. Come to the hospital now."

I rushed out at once. When I reached the hospital, I learned the truth.

It was Damiano who had done it.

All because my father had glanced up at Adriana while passing her in the street. Damiano had exploded on the spot, beating an old Don half to death while cursing him as a leering animal.

I called him in fury, and he sounded entirely unmoved.

"Your father frightened Adriana. His eyes crawled over her like a degenerate's. What if he'd frightened the baby? How can you be this cold? She's a pregnant woman, and still you take an old man's side?"

I set my teeth and said nothing. When the call ended, I dialed another number.

"The marriage is off. Pull back the silent stake. In seven days, I want both of them ruined."

The moment I stepped back through the villa's front doors, before I'd even changed my shoes, Damiano's voice pressed down on me from behind.

"Sylvia, leave the bracelet here. Adriana's been having nightmares. She needs it more than you do."

My movements froze instantly.

That bracelet was the only keepsake my younger sister had left before she died.

I turned slowly, my fingertips going cold. Damiano saw the redness in my eyes and offered not a trace of sympathy. He only said, in that even voice that had buried better men than my father,

"Name your price."

Nine years.

Nine years spent treading softly through a loveless union, humble to the point of dust.

So in his eyes, all my love amounted to nothing more than name your price.

I could not even bring myself to calculate what he thought it was worth.

When I lifted my eyes, I saw the condescending contempt in his gaze. In that moment, images flashed through my mind.

There had been a time when I'd been a girl held gently in someone's hands.

A time when the man I loved was still alive.

My stomach had always been weak. Whenever I ate something sharp with spice, the pain bent me double. He would make me a bowl of warm porridge, blowing it to the right temperature before feeding it to me spoon by spoon.

Whenever I sulked, he would gather me into his arms, warm palms pressed to my stomach, whispering that the ache would pass.

When I was low, he could sit with me an entire day, waiting patiently for one smile.

But now I lowered my head and worked the bracelet down my wrist bit by bit.

The sharp edge dug into my skin. A sting shot up my arm. When I lifted my hand, a thin line of blood had already welled.

Tears fell before I could stop them, striking the floor one drop at a time.

Was the pain truly only on the skin?

I took a deep breath and slid the bracelet onto Adriana's wrist.

I even held a gentle, dignified smile on my face.

"May the child you carry stay healthy and safe."

The instant I said it, Damiano gave me a look he believed was approval.

"Sylvia, as long as you behave, my child will be your child."

Utterly absurd.

Before his words had settled into the silence, the bracelet slipped from Adriana's wrist and struck the floor with a sharp crack.

Fragments scattered across the tile like powdered glass.

A shard grazed her leg, drawing a thin line of blood.

Damiano was at her side instantly, moving as though he were dragging her from a burning building, scooping her up like she was made of glass.

He turned on the house steward, his voice fierce with panic.

"What are you standing there for? Call the family doctor. Now."

His urgency made everyone in the room turn mocking eyes on me, as if I had caused all of this. Two soldiers near the door shifted their weight, watching to see which way the Don's temper would break.

To be honest, I almost laughed.

Adriana's voice came soft as a draft through the room, threaded with a deliberate tremble. One hand pressed flat to her belly, a beat too fast to be fear.

"It's all my fault. The bracelet Sylvia just gave me. I dropped it. I'm so clumsy."

Damiano held her hand, his voice gone tender enough to rot teeth.

"It isn't your fault. That thing was cursed to begin with. It's good that it broke."

I froze.

The only thing my sister had left me before she died, dismissed as something unlucky.

My fingers turned to ice around the handle of my suitcase. I did not dare look at the two pretenders before me a moment longer. If I stayed, I would be sick on their imported tile.

I was about to leave when my phone vibrated.

"Sylvia, come to the hospital now. Your father. He's been beaten. They've crippled him."

My mother's voice shook with tears, near choking.

The room fell silent.

Adriana and Damiano heard every word, and neither offered so much as a word of concern. Not the faintest shadow of guilt crossed their faces.

I spared them no further glance. I ran straight out the door.

By the time I reached the safe house they'd turned into a sickroom, my legs were already giving out.

My father lay on the bed with his eyes tightly shut. His face was mottled with bruises, his chest wrapped in thick bandages, and his leg shattered into a comminuted fracture, encased in a cast that made it look like a cold block of stone. This was Don Vitale, the old blood that had built half the city in shadow, reduced to broken bone in a borrowed room.

The moment my mother saw me, her tears fell instantly. She clutched my hand, her thumb worrying at her wedding band as her voice shook, telling me what had happened.

My father ended up like this because of Damiano.

All because he wanted to protect his childhood sweetheart, who was carrying his child. All because my father happened to glance at Adriana as he walked past her in the corridor.

Damiano hadn't asked a single question, hadn't confirmed anything. He set his soldiers on my father where he stood, calling him a pervert, claiming he had "frightened a pregnant woman."

Hearing this felt like someone splitting me open with bare hands.

Looking at my father, barely clinging to life, I forced down my trembling and did the one thing no daughter of a Family was supposed to do. I went to the law. To the rare honest magistrate who couldn't be bought.

Soon, the hearing arrived.

That day, Damiano and Adriana walked in hand in hand, as if they were arriving at a Family gala instead of a reckoning.

When they saw me, there was no guilt on their faces, not even the faintest hint of unease. It was as if the man they had broken wasn't a living human being, but simply a piece of useless trash to be swept from the floor.

"Do we really have to make this such a big deal, Sylvia?"

Damiano stood behind me, his tone filled with impatience and judgment.

I didn't look back. I only said coldly, "You forced me to this."

Then I walked in and took my place, refusing to look at their disgusting faces again.

The hearing began.

Damiano immediately put on a righteous expression, his voice firm and clear, as though he were the wronged party.

"As far as I know, my father-in-law kept staring at my friend Adriana. He disrupted the peace and frightened a pregnant woman. Had I not been present, who knows what he might have done. I was protecting my own. I would rather uphold what's right than shield a man whose blood I married into."

As he spoke, he drew Adriana behind him, guarding her like she was the most precious thing in his keeping.

Then he shot me an irritated look. He smoothed a lapel that did not need smoothing.

"You're not at his bedside nursing a cripple, yet you come here to point a finger at me? This is a hearing. We speak with proof, not with feeling. Drop it. If something happens to your bloodline because of this, the debt won't sit on me."

At that moment, I finally understood why she had fought so hard to stop me from going outside the Family with this.

Even when I knelt and begged her, she refused to stand for my father.

Because from beginning to end, she stood on Adriana's side.

I clenched my teeth, pushing down my fury as I tried one last time to draw even a shred of humanity from him.

"My father treated you like his own son. He opened every door for you. He raised you up, set you on the throne you sit on, gave you everything he had to give."

"Now he lies half dead because of you. You are his son-in-law. Can you truly live with yourself?"

Damiano rolled his eyes, his voice flat with disdain.

"The law is impartial. I stand on the right side of this. I stand with truth, not with blood. I'll swear before anyone that your father's leg was already ruined before that day. It has nothing to do with me."

He lied without even a flicker of emotion.

My hands trembled with anger as I produced the watchman's tape I had kept hidden away.

It was the one piece of proof that would show Adriana striking my father first.

But when the tape played, the screen showed nothing but static.

The evidence had been switched.

Adriana cast me a cold glance, and mouthed two words. Idiot.

The only people who had ever touched that tape were me and Damiano.

I slammed my hands on the table and shot to my feet. "Damiano! You tampered with it! Do you have any humanity left?"

Damiano didn't panic. He simply squeezed Adriana's hand beneath the table, soothing her as gently as if quieting a frightened child.

"Adriana is kind. She didn't want to drag this through the mud. She wanted to give your bloodline a way out. But you came here full of malice, daring to frame her."

Adriana's free hand pressed flat to her belly, a beat too fast.

Then he handed over a recording.

My fathers voice suddenly came through the speaker.

So youre Adriana? The child youre carrying may not even be his. Give me five million, or Ill ruin you.

My entire body went rigid. The thread holding my sanity snapped in an instant.

Impossible.

The recording was fake.

My father had been unconscious since the night Damianos soldiers left him broken on the floor of his own club. I had watched the watchmans tapes dozens of times. That sentence never existed. Don Tommaso Everett, the old man whose hidden money had built this throne, did not beg. He had never once raised his voice in the years Id known him.

Adriana frowned, her hand drifting to her belly a beat too fast, speaking in a fragile tone as if she had been cornered.

Your father threatened me. I barely escaped.

Damiano immediately pulled her into his arms, his voice cold and absolute.

Sylvia, I will never forgive you. Your father being crippled is his own retribution.

Then they laid out forged ledgers and bought testimony, accusing my father of extortion, of threats, of violence. The kind of paper a fixer like Vincenzo Russo could conjure overnight and bury just as fast.

The magistrate didnt even bother to look closely. A man on someones payroll never does. A few perfunctory words, and the verdict came down.

I lost.

In an instant, my father and I became villains. Monsters who failed at extortion and then harmed a pregnant woman out of spite.

The snickers and mockery from the gallery stung my ears. I clenched my fists so tightly my nails dug deep into my palms.

The moment the hearing ended, before we even stepped out of the courthouse, the press and the curious had already blocked the doors. Word travels fast through the underworld, and a story like this had been seeded long before the gavel fell.

Adriana walked out surrounded by flashing cameras and sympathetic hands. Tears shimmered in her eyes, her palms pressed together like a persecuted saint.

The crowds anger and pity exploded at once, and fingers flew toward me and my mother.

I stood in the middle of it all, the cold wind numbing my already frozen face.

This wasnt justice.

This was a trial they had orchestrated from the start, every chair filled, every word scripted, every law bent under the weight of Marchetti money.

Damiano wrapped Adriana protectively in his arms, his tone dripping with tenderness.

Adriana, dont worry. I wont let anyone threaten you. Ill protect you.

The crowds emotions surged even higher.

Someone recognized me and immediately hurled something my way.

A bucket of foul-smelling filth splashed down from the top of my head, seeping down my neck and soaking into my clothes. The stench was overwhelming, icy, humiliating.

Shes a woman too, yet she tried to use someones reputation as leverage. Does she even have a conscience!

If the magistrate hadnt been fair, that poor girl would have been ruined forever!

Her father deserved to be crippled! A daughter like that will never meet a good end!

The curses pierced my ears like arrows.

I bit down on my lip until the taste of blood mixed with the stench filling my throat.

Only then did Damiano finally glance my way, frowning as if he were looking at filth.

Stop resisting. If you behave, I can still consider our past and live with you peacefully.

My voice was hoarse, barely holding up.

Impossible. Even if it costs me everything, Ill fight you to the end.

Damianos expression darkened. His hand rose to straighten a lapel that did not need straightening, the gesture of a man grooming the costume of a Don he no longer believed he was.

Still refusing to repent.

Adriana bent down slightly, giving me a gentle, pitiful look.

Im sorry about your father, but even if time went backward, I still wouldnt agree to his demand for five million.

Damiano followed her words smoothly, playing the man of honor before a crowd that had already decided to believe him.

Im your husband, but I stand for justice. I cannot allow wickedness to spread.

The crowd was completely ignited.

What a good man! Why do good people always end up with this kind of wife!

A woman like her would drive anyone to divorce!

Watching Damianos performance made my stomach churn.

My legs suddenly buckled, and I stumbled forward.

Damiano shoved Adriana aside and kicked me hard in the chest.

Youre trying to fake an injury on the courthouse steps too? How was I ever blind enough to fall for someone so disgusting!

Pain exploded in my chest, knocking the breath out of me.

But deeper inside, in that place he once held, it hurt even more.

Three years ago, when a rival Familys knife came for him in the dark, I had thrown myself in front of the blade to save him.

And now, the only thing he remembered was how to crush me.

Adriana tugged on his sleeve, her soft voice instantly hooking his attention.

Damiano, my stomach hurts again. Can you make me some porridge? You cook well.

He agreed at once and hurried off with her on his arm.

I watched their silhouettes fade into the crowd, feeling something inside my chest shatter piece by piece.

For three years of marriage, every plate that came out of that kitchen was cooked by my father and me.

Even when we burned with fever, when we could barely stand, Damiano never once set foot near the stove.

Yet now he was willing to stand over a pot of porridge for another woman.

I let out a bitter laugh. It felt like a knife had cut me open.

Before she ducked into the car, Adriana turned back. Her face was filled with kindness and fragile innocence, the soft mask the whole street already loved her for.

"Don't dirty your hands over people like this. Heaven always settles its debts."

The crowd on the curb was instantly moved to tears.

Someone spat at me, twice.

More of them cursed under their breath as they drifted away into Marchetti territory, certain now whose side God was on.

I straightened myself, every wound on my body burning with pain.

But when I thought of my father, I gritted my teeth and rushed back to the hospital.

People pointed at me down every corridor I passed.

That was when I understood the courtroom tape had already spread through the streets and the whisper lines of the underworld.

Adriana had become the delicate angel half the city wanted to protect, while my father and I were branded parasites, swindlers, the kind of filth a Family is right to crush.

When I walked into the ward, my father lay wrapped in layers of bandages, both legs shattered, even his breathing trembling.

I almost collapsed from the pain in my chest.

The others in the room murmured their complaints.

"A man like that is vicious. Breaking his own legs to fake an accident."

"He'd better not try to shake anyone down. Get them out of here."

I tried desperately to explain, but no one wanted to believe a word of it.

My father listened to them, shaking with anger as he pounded the mattress with his good hand. The crippled one he flexed slowly, testing it, then folded away beneath the sheet where no one could see it tremble.

He had spent his whole life standing behind people, lending his name and his patronage, and now he was being spat on like this, all because he had trusted the wrong man with his blessing.

He looked at me with hopeless eyes.

"I treated Damiano like a son. He has never wanted for anything in his life. Why would he help them break me? What did I do wrong?"

I could no longer hold it back. Tears streamed down my face.

But the people around us kept on mocking.

"You're all vicious. This is the justice you've got coming."

More of them crowded into the doorway, throwing filthy, hateful looks at us.

I couldn't stand to let my father suffer another second. I decided to discharge him.

But when the doctor brought the bill, I froze completely.

Every charge had been raised to more than ten times the original amount.

The doctor lowered his voice.

"You crossed someone you shouldn't have. Some debts have to be paid."

Enforcers ringed the doorway, broad men in dark coats, hunters who had cornered their prey and saw no reason to hurry.

It was plain they would not let us leave without the money.

My hands trembled as I took out my phone, only to find the account balance had gone to zero.

Damiano had moved everything out.

I called him at once.

His voice came back lazy, almost amused.

"Adriana hasn't been sleeping well. Think of it as compensation for the distress."

I couldn't stop myself from shouting.

"That is my father's medical fee."

"As soon as you stand up in public and admit you slandered Adriana, she'll see you well paid," he said calmly, the way a Don signs off on a man's fate without raising his voice. "His legs are gone already. No sense throwing good money after them. Confess, and he can spend the rest of his days comfortable in a bed somewhere."

"When all this is over, you and I will live well again."

The next moment I heard a heavy thud on his end, then the breathy, intimate sounds that came after.

Understanding struck me all at once.

The phone slipped from my hand. I covered my mouth, fighting the urge to be sick.

Before the doctor could call for his men, the detectives arrived, the bought kind, the ones who came when a Marchetti made the call.

"Adriana Crocetti and Don Marchetti have lodged a complaint that your father attempted extortion. We're taking him in for questioning."

My father had only just come out of surgery. The pain was unbearable.

I knelt and begged, but the men only shook their heads.

"Orders from above. There's nothing we can do."

I tried to throw myself across the bed, and they told me I was obstructing the law.

My father was dragged away, the bandages over his shattered legs darkening with fresh blood.

I ran after them, but at the turn in the corridor a black bag dropped over my head.

A storm of fists and boots crashed down on me.

"You raise a hand near Don Marchetti's woman? Learn your place."

"Don't kill her. She's still his wife."

"Wife? Damiano never gave a damn about her. His heart's always belonged to Adriana. If this one hadn't forced her way into the family, he'd never have married her at all."

I don't know how long the beating went on before they finally walked away.

I lay curled on the floor, motionless, like a discarded rag.

Seven years ago, when Damiano first took the Marchetti seat, it was my father, old Don Vitale, who spent every favor he was owed to keep the rackets from bleeding out beneath him.

Later, when an enemy clan took me, it was Damiano who shot his way into the safe house and carried me out on his back.

That day, I cried in his arms, believing I had found the one man I could trust for the rest of my life.

And now, for another woman, he had driven us into a dead end.

Fortunately, only three days remained.

I dragged my weakened body back to the house, only to see our luggage thrown out across the front steps. My chest tightened violently.

Damiano had tossed out everything that belonged to me and my father.

This house was bought with my father's entire life of tribute and savings.

What right did Damiano have to throw us into the street?

I felt as though I could barely breathe. Just as I turned to leave, I caught a glimpse of the scene inside through the gap in the door.

Adriana was sitting in Damiano's lap, feeding him porridge one spoonful at a time.

I forced my trembling hands still, raised my phone, and quietly began recording.

Damiano's hand was wrapped around her waist, fingers wandering restlessly. His voice was low and intimate.

"Back then, I had nothing. I had no choice but to marry for the good of the Family and let you go to another man. All these years, you've suffered."

Adriana's face flushed, her expression dripping with sweetness.

"No. Even after I married someone else, did we ever stop? The only one who could ever satisfy me has always been you, Damiano"

Her words ignited him instantly. Damiano lowered his head and kissed her hungrily.

"When the baby is born, we'll go abroad together. Alright?"

Adriana let out a soft sound.

"Last time I got pregnant, you forced me to end it. Why do you want this one?"

My heart clenched as if someone had grabbed it.

Half a year ago, she had been pregnant.

That was also the first time I had carried a child, and he forced me onto the table for the surgery, claiming it would interfere with Family business.

I had always thought he was simply ambitious.

But the real reason was that Adriana hadn't allowed it.

My fingers shook, but I kept the phone steady.

Adriana buried her head against his chest, her tone laced with poisoned honey.

"Back then, we didn't know whose it was. How could I let her carry some bastard that might not even be yours?"

Then came the sound of sticky kisses.

Adriana's breathing grew soft and tangled.

"Don't worry. This time, the baby is ours."

Her words exploded in my ears, each one like a blade slicing straight into my chest.

I could no longer watch. I lowered my phone and turned to leave.

But my weakened legs gave out. I stepped wrong and knocked over a vase by the door.

It shattered loudly across the marble.

Damiano came out at once. When he saw how disheveled I was, his expression stiffened for a moment. Then he straightened the lapel of a jacket that didn't need straightening, and his voice came out hard.

"What did you do to yourself this time!"

The next second, he dragged Adriana protectively into his arms, his eyes filled only with concern for her.

"Trying to win my sympathy again? Stop with these pathetic little tricks."

Adriana recovered quickly and let out a mocking laugh.

"Planning to drag this to a sit-down again? Tell the whole table I struck your father? Who would believe you?"

I looked at them coldly.

"If word of your affair gets out on the street, who they believe becomes another question entirely."

Damiano's eyes widened with rage.

"Sylvia, enough of your nonsense! I only had Adriana over for porridge. What filthy thing are you cooking up in that head of yours?"

"If you would just stand up and apologize in front of everyone, we could still live in peace. I'll give you a child. Why won't you agree?"

I had no interest in arguing with him. I tucked the phone away, deep and safe.

Just then, Adriana spoke softly.

"Damiano, go get another bowl of porridge. Signora Vitale's daughter doesn't seem so unreasonable. We can talk this through calmly."

The moment Damiano stepped away, she dropped the gentle mask. She pressed a hand flat to her belly, a beat too fast, and backed me into the corner.

Her voice came low, like a snake hissing.

"Do you know why I struck your father? Because he had it coming. Who told the old man to peacock in front of me? Damiano belongs to me. He can put a ring on you, but he is still mine. Your father got exactly what he deserved."

I couldn't help but throw a punch, but my body was covered in injuries. I was no match for her.

In an instant, she had me pinned to the marble.

She set her heel on my chest and leaned down, her lips brushing my ear, her voice low enough that the soldiers by the door heard nothing.

"If you insist on being disobedient, I'll make sure you learn your lesson. Your father died in the Joint because of you."

I struggled and raked my nails across her ankle, leaving a deep scratch.

Seeing Damiano about to come out, Adriana pressed a hand flat to her belly, a beat too fast, then let herself collapse onto the floor as if she had been shoved.

Damiano saw her fall, and the glass in his hand shattered against the stone with a sharp crack that tore through the air.

He rushed toward us, his voice rising, fury twisting his face into something monstrous. A Don who raises his voice has already lost, and he had lost.

"Sylvia! How dare you touch Adriana? Can you afford to compensate for the child she's carrying? You and your father's lives wouldn't be enough!"

He charged forward, grabbed my shoulders, and shoved.

I was thrown hard, my back slamming into the sharp corner of the entryway like a heavy hammer striking me.

Pain exploded in my chest. My vision went black. I staggered, then collapsed.

I heard Damiano's hysterical roaring, Adriana's fake frightened sobs, and the murmurs of the men around us, men who had sworn omert and would say nothing of what they saw here.

The noises tangled together, stabbing into my ears like countless needles.

I tried to push myself up, but my body refused to move.

My consciousness cracked open, leaking away rapidly.

In the last moment before everything went dark, I saw Damiano glaring at me with a frown, yet still holding Adriana protectively, terrified that she might be startled.

Then the darkness swallowed me completely.

When I opened my eyes again, the first thing that hit me was the sharp smell of disinfectant.

The white ceiling swayed slightly in my vision. I tried to move my fingers, but they felt weighed down by something heavy. This was one of the Family's own beds, the private kind, where men were stitched back together off the books.

The curtain was pulled aside. A doctor stepped to the bedside, his expression calm, the practiced calm of a man who treated wounds no one would ever report.

"You're awake?"

I nodded. My throat burned as if scraped raw by sandpaper.

The doctor sighed, speaking as gently as he could.

"Sylvia, when you were brought in, you were experiencing massive bleeding."

My heart clenched, but I forced myself to ask, "So?"

He paused for a moment before answering.

"The baby is gone."

My breathing caught in my chest, unable to move.

"The baby?"

I repeated softly, as though confirming something I had never imagined.

The doctor continued, "You were three weeks pregnant. It was too early to detect. But your injuries were severe, and the embryo couldn't continue developing. We have already completed the procedure."

My fingertips slowly turned cold.

So I had been pregnant.

In the middle of their blows, their insults, all the despair I had been carrying a tiny life.

And now he was gone.

Because of their push.

Because of their violence.

Because of their cruelty.

Seeing me silent, the doctor added in a low voice, "Your injuries were caused by assault. There are men I am obligated to inform. Once your condition stabilizes, they will want a statement."

I closed my eyes. My chest felt as if it had been torn apart.

Images flashed through my mind: Damiano's indifferent shove, Adriana's triumphant smile, her words about letting the old man die in the Joint.

Each one cut like a blade.

The baby was gone.

And the marriage I had fought so hard to hold together collapsed completely in that moment.

I opened my eyes. My voice was cold as a winter night.

"There's no need to bring anyone else into this. Please help me preserve all the medical records, the emergency papers, the surgical reports. Every page."

The doctor paused, surprised.

"Of course, but you need rest."

"Don't worry." My tone was calm, yet so firm it allowed no refusal. Beneath the blanket, my fingers found the bracelet at my wrist and turned it, once, slowly. My sister's bracelet. The sentence had already been passed.

The doctor could only nod and leave.

After a while, the door to the private room swung open.

Damiano walked in. The sharpness in his expression had been carefully tucked away, replaced with something that almost looked gentle. His presence instantly drained the warmth from the air, the way it did when he crossed the floor of any room where men owed him their loyalty.

"Sylvia, I know you're still angry about what happened yesterday, but I truly had no choice. Adriana was badly hurt. And your own wounds haven't healed yet. Please, don't make things harder for me, alright?"

His voice was soft enough to drip with sweetness, the tone a man uses when coaxing a child who doesn't know any better.

That gentleness was something he offered to everyone in the Family.

Everyone except me.

His act made me laugh, a cold, hollow sound.

"Relax. I won't delay tomorrow's gala."

The sarcasm in my voice wiped the softness from his face at once.

"Sylvia," he snapped, "stop being childish. You're the one at fault. If you hadn't harmed the baby in Adriana's stomach, I wouldn't have laid a finger on you. Everything that happened to you was your own doing."

He shoved every sin onto me as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He didn't even straighten his cuff this time. He believed it.

That kind of cruelty chilled the bones.

I opened my mouth, wanting to tell him about the child I had lost, but someone interrupted.

Adriana burst in like a frightened little rabbit, throwing herself into his arms.

"Damiano, where did you go? I woke up and didn't see you, I thought you didn't want me anymore. I dreamed about yesterday I dreamed those soldiers came after me again"

Her voice trembled with every word, tears streaming nonstop. One hand pressed flat to her belly, a half-beat too fast.

Damiano bent over her protectively, soothing her as if she were the most precious treasure in existence.

When she finally calmed down a little, his eyes turned sharp and vicious as he glared at me.

"Look at what you did! Adriana nearly died because of you!"

I couldn't help but laugh, the sound slicing through the room like a blade.

Seeing that I didn't respond, Adriana suddenly let out a shrill scream.

"Sylvia, is it not enough that I'm leaving? Please don't hurt me or the baby anymore I never should have made you angry"

She even tried to kneel by my bed, her pitiful act almost enough to make Damiano crumble.

I remained expressionless.

I simply watched their performance with icy amusement, and beneath the sheet, my thumb found my sister's bracelet and turned it once around my wrist.

Damiano finally lost his patience.

"Sylvia, you still refuse to admit your mistakes. Stay here and reflect. After the gala, I'll reconsider this union between our bloodlines. The Marchetti name does not need a heartless woman."

With that, he guided Adriana out without looking back.

Just before disappearing from view, Adriana cast a glance over her shoulder. Her eyes gleamed with arrogance and triumph, the clear declaration lingering in her gaze.

This time, I won.

I didn't even bother looking at them as I reached out and shut the door.

The next morning, I began executing my plan.

There were three hours left until the Marchetti Family's gala, the great show of legitimacy Damiano had arranged to parade his name before the city.

In three hours, the throne he sat on would begin its freefall.

Every resource, every secret stake, every tribute pact I had once placed into his hands, I would take back without hesitation. He had never understood that the crown was borrowed. The Vitale money beneath it was mine.

For every wound they gave me, I would repay them with what they valued most.

I cut off both Damiano and Adriana, then boarded the plane with Lorenzo. In the seat beside me he rolled his right sleeve down and buttoned the cuff over the old scar, slow and deliberate. The talking was over.

I could hardly wait to watch the grand celebration they ignited with their own hands turn into the very fire that devoured them.

Their fall was only the beginning.