Chapter 4

When I woke, I was already in the hospital.

A bouquet of white ranunculus sat on the nightstand. Beside it, a neatly folded paper bag held a fresh change of clothes—even the underwear was my usual brand.

Tucked beneath the bag was a note.

“Get some rest, little hellion.”

Classic Dante Loresi.

He wouldn’t be sitting in the room waiting for me to wake up. He knew I hated being seen at my worst.

Four years apart, and the Dante who’d come back from Sicily was still the most thoughtful person I knew.

That week was pure agony.

Two ribs on my left side were broken. My fingers were shattered. The burns on my face stung so badly during every dressing change that I twisted the bedsheet into knots. But the worst part wasn’t the pain—it was the boredom.

I lay in bed scrolling through Dominic’s Instagram, picking at the corpse of our marriage to see exactly how rotten it had become.

Dominic and Alessia were having the time of their lives.

Post after post. Alessia’s photos, one after another. Their silhouettes leaning against the railing of a yacht, captioned “Perfect breeze.” A sushi omakase set for two—she flashed a peace sign while he sat beside her, smiling that warm, easy smile. I opened every single photo, my expression blank, and liked each one.

On day five, I was finally allowed to get out of bed.

The doctor said recovery required light movement, so Dante walked the corridor with me.

Halfway through our third lap, his phone rang. He glanced at me; I waved him off. “Go ahead.”

He stepped away to the far end of the hallway to take the call. Right then, the elevator doors opened.

A whole entourage spilled out. Four bodyguards in black suits and earpieces swept the floor first, then parted. The standard Falcone procession.

At the back was Alessia. Dominic held her hand with one of his while pressing a phone to his ear with the other, his brow furrowed.

The moment they cleared the elevator, he dropped her hand and strode off down the opposite end of the corridor, still talking.

The VIP maternity wing was at the other end of this hallway.

The nurses passing by me began to whisper:

“Mr. Falcone is here with his wife for another prenatal checkup.”

“He’s booked the VIP suite for the entire year… must be so wealthy.”

“Now that’s true love.”

True love?

I leaned against the wall and watched the performance in silence.

Alessia noticed me.

Her step faltered for a moment. Then a slow smile crept across her face, and she walked my way.

“Valentina.” One hand rested on the swell of her belly, her gaze traveling over the burn marks still visible on my face. “You’re looking so much better.”

“Once this baby’s born, you’ll need to step aside. Dominic told me he’s going to give me and the child a legitimate place in his life.” Her smile deepened. “In front of all Five Families. Officially.”

I looked down and let out a quiet laugh.

“My lawyer is already drafting a suit against you.” I raised my eyes to hers. “Aggravated vehicular assault, plus ordering your thugs to beat me. The parking lot surveillance? I already have it.”

That was a bluff. But she didn’t know that.

I would get my revenge, of course. Just not this way.

Alessia’s smile stiffened.

Footsteps echoed from the end of the hallway. Dominic was coming back.

What happened next took less than a second.

Alessia’s eyes went red on cue, her lips trembled, and she dropped to the floor with a theatrical thud, clutching her stomach with both hands. “Dominic—she pushed me! She pushed me!”

Pathetic acting.

But Dominic bought it.

He charged straight at me and slapped me across the face.

The force sent me stumbling into the wall before I crumpled to the ground. My broken ribs screamed. My vision went black.

“She’s pregnant, and you laid hands on her?” He stood over me, glaring down. “What, are you jealous that she can have children and you can’t?”

Jealous. What a laughable word.

“Who the hell gave you the right to hit her?”

Dante’s voice came from the far end of the corridor. He strode over, face dark, positioning himself between me and Dominic.

The air went still.

Dante stood between us, backed by the two men my father had posted at my hospital door. On the other side, Dominic’s four Falcone bodyguards pressed forward in near-unison.

The two sides faced off in the corridor. Someone behind the nurses’ station drew a sharp breath. A few visitors flattened themselves against the wall.

Dominic stared at Dante. “Well, well, Valentina.” His voice was cold and mocking. “It’s been what, a week? And you’ve already got a new man.”

Dante didn’t waste his breath. He bent down and helped me to my feet.

“I don’t have time for your explanations right now.” Dominic pulled the still-sniffling Alessia up off the floor. “If anything happens to this baby, I will not let it go.”

Explanations? What was I supposed to explain?

Dominic shot me one last glare, then turned and led Alessia away.

His four bodyguards filed out after him. The last one shouldered Dante on the way past. Dante didn’t so much as sway.

The day I was discharged, Dominic’s Maybach was parked at the hospital entrance.

He’d even brought flowers. A bouquet of deep red roses.

“Get in.” He held the car door open, his voice gentle—like a completely different person. “I know what you’ve been doing lately. The likes on my posts, the confrontation with Alessia in the hallway—all of it. It’s because you still care about me too much.”

Absolutely delusional. How could anyone be this conceited?

And yet there he was—this megalomaniac, sitting right beside me.

I said nothing the entire ride. Dominic filled the silence with his fantasies.

The car pulled up to my apartment. Once inside, he made me a cup of hot milk with his own hands, carried it over, and sat at the other end of the sofa—a calculated, respectful distance.

“The thing with Alessia—that was my fault. But she’s just a passing distraction. I promise you, she and her child will never threaten our marriage.” He took my hand, his thumb tracing slow circles on the back of it. “I want us to start over. I want a child. Our child.”

A promise? I would never believe another promise of his again.

The old me—the me from four years ago—might have fallen for this.

But the Valentina sitting in front of him now had finally seen him for what he really was.

I lifted my head and gave him a tired smile. “All right.”

His eyes lit up instantly.

“Close your eyes. I have a surprise for you.”

He smiled and played along, letting his lids fall shut.

I pulled the divorce agreement from my bag, flipped to the last page—the signature line—and placed the pen in his hand, guiding it to the space marked for the husband.

“Sign right here.”

“What kind of surprise needs a signature?” He laughed as the pen touched paper.

Who in their right mind would want to have a child with you?

I slid the document out from under his hand the moment the ink was down, snapped it shut, and slipped it back into my bag. “Done.”

“What was the surprise?” He raised an eyebrow.

I stood up and smiled at him. “You’ll find out tomorrow. I want to be alone tonight. Come see me tomorrow at this time, okay?”

Dominic Falcone left my apartment in high spirits.

The door closed behind him. The smile drained from my face, inch by inch.

Dominic, you will never understand why they call me a lunatic.

I sank back into the sofa and opened my laptop.

Dante had sent me the security footage from the hospital corridor. On screen, Alessia waited until the hallway was empty, then dropped to her knees all on her own, clutched her belly, and started wailing. Directed, produced, and starred in by herself. Crystal clear.

Then I organized the stack of medical reports from the past four years. After the wedding, at Dominic’s mother’s insistence, I’d undergone no fewer than fifty comprehensive examinations. Every single result showed the same thing: perfectly healthy, all markers normal.

I bundled the video and the reports into a zip file, composed an email, and typed Dominic’s address into the recipient field. I scheduled it to send at ten o’clock the next morning.

By then, I’d be long gone from this city.

Last was the divorce agreement.

I placed it in a black gift box and attached a card. Courier delivery was scheduled for his office the next morning.

Everything was in order.

Eleven that night. Teterboro Airport.

Dante’s private jet sat on the runway. He was leaning against the stairway railing, and he pressed a cup of hot tea into my hands. “Congratulations. You’re free.”

I took the cup and climbed the stairs.

Goodbye, Dominic.