I Raised His Heirs, They Shot Me Off a Cliff

"You witch!" Alessia shouted, her voice filled with venom. "You killed our mother!" "You'll pay for it," Rocco added coldly, his eyes gleaming with something disturbingly cruel. My legs gave out, and I collapsed to my knees, shaking violently as sobs tore through me. The bites burned, but they were nothing compared to the pain of their words. They didn't know. They had never known. Their mother had been my best friend. I carried them. I endured everything for them. I gave them everything I had. And now… Now they looked at me like I was a monster. "I didn't kill her," I choked out, my voice breaking completely. "Don't speak her name!" Matteo roared, his face twisted with rage. His fingers curled into his palms and squeezed, knuckles white, the ghost of the toddler who'd once gripped my hand through every stuttered word now channeled into fists. "You wanted her gone so you could take our dad," Nico spat, each word dripping with accusation. He shrugged his left shoulder as if the whole thing bored him, but his eyes were black with hate. Their hatred carved into me, deeper than any wound. As I struggled on the floor, desperately trying to brush the ants off my body, my skin burning, my dignity shattered, Lucia suddenly stepped closer. Her expression softened. She tucked her hair behind her right ear and tilted her head, the picture of gentle concern. "This is unfair, guys," she said, her tone almost sympathetic. "We can't just leave her like this." For a moment… hope flickered. "Let's help her," she added. Relief flooded through me so suddenly it made me dizzy. Finally… one of them. One of them still had a heart. I lifted my trembling hand toward her, reaching out, desperate for even the smallest kindness. "Psych!" Her laughter exploded in my ears. Before I could react, she shoved something into my hand. A sharp, immediate sting followed. Confusion flashed through me, then realization. A beehive. My scream tore through the room, raw and animalistic, as pain erupted everywhere at once. My vision blurred instantly as I tried to fling it away, my entire body shaking uncontrollably. "Pathetic," one of them sneered. "She really thought we wanted to help her." "You deserve this," another voice added coldly. "And we'll make sure you keep suffering as long as you're here." Their words echoed in my head as everything spun. A maid rushed in at the sound of my screams, her face going pale as she hurried to help me, brushing away the hive, swatting away the remaining insects. The woman's hands were practiced, efficient, the way all household staff in the Montecarlo compound learned to clean up messes without asking questions. "What kind of cruelty is this?" she snapped at them, her voice trembling with anger. "Shut up, maid!" they hissed back in unison. Alessia turned her gaze to me one last time, her eyes sharp and unforgiving. She went completely motionless, not a blink, not a breath, before she spoke. "Know your place, Seraphina," she said coldly. "And it's not here." Then they left. Just like that. Leaving me behind. Broken. Shaking. Crawling on the floor like I was nothing. "I'm sorry, Miss, do you need—" the maid began softly. "Just go," I rasped, my voice barely holding together. She hesitated, then left. Slowly, painfully, I dragged myself back up, crawling toward the mirror, gripping its edge as if it were the only thing keeping me from collapsing completely. This wasn't me. This couldn't be my life. And that was the moment I made the call. I didn't pack anything. Didn't take a single possession. Just my phone. And my wallet. On the wall, Catarina's photograph stared back at me. Perfect. Beautiful. Untouchable. Framed in dark wood beside a votive candle that someone in the household kept lit, the way the Montecarlo family honored their dead. I reached out, my fingers brushing lightly against the frame, my chest tightening painfully. They didn't know. They didn't know she stole Enzo from me. They didn't know she begged me, begged me, to keep the truth hidden. That I was their real mother. That I gave everything up for them. Everything. My left hand found my wrist and pressed hard against the bare skin where my mother's bracelet once sat, fingers digging in until the ache bloomed through bone. "I'm sorry, Catarina…" I whispered, my voice trembling as tears blurred my vision again. "But I can't do this anymore." Footsteps echoed from the hallway. Closer. "Seraphina?" Enzo's voice called out. "Where are you? The gathering's starting. You need to play the piano for Don." The Old Don's Christmas Eve dinner. The one night a year when the entire Montecarlo family sat at the same table and pretended to be holy. I was expected to perform, the way I was always expected to perform. I said nothing. Not a word. When the door finally opened, he froze. "Jesus, Seraphina, what happened to you?" Blood streaked down my face. My body trembled. Tears slipped silently from my eyes. "Ask your precious kids," I snapped, the bitterness in my voice sharp enough to cut. "What… what do you mean?" he asked, confusion flashing across his face. His thumb drifted along the edge of his jaw, that unconscious tell he'd carried since boyhood, already preparing to deflect whatever came next. I looked at him. Really looked at him. And for the first time, I felt nothing.

"I want a divorce, Enzo," I whispered. "I want a divorce, Enzo," I whispered, the words barely leaving my lips, yet feeling heavier than anything I had ever said in my life. For a moment, he didn't react. He just stood there, blinking at me as if he hadn't heard correctly, as if his mind refused to process what I had just said. Then confusion crept across his face. "What… what are you saying?" "I'm done," I said again, this time a little steadier, even though my chest felt like it was caving in on itself. He stepped closer, his brows knitting together in annoyance more than concern. "Is this about the kids? They're just acting out, Seraphina. You know how they are." A hollow, bitter laugh escaped me before I could stop it. "Acting out?" I repeated, my voice shaking with disbelief. "They almost killed me." "They're just kids—" "They're monsters, Enzo," I cut in sharply, my voice rising despite how exhausted I felt. "And you let them become this." He opened his mouth, ready to argue, to dismiss me again like he always did, but I lifted my hand, stopping him before he could say another word. "No more, Enzo," I said, my voice dropping into something cold, something final. "I gave you ten years. Ten years of my life. I gave you everything I had. And all you ever did was take, take, take…" My throat tightened, but I forced myself to keep going. "You never once looked at me like I was your wife." His expression hardened instantly, his eyes turning cold. The same face he wore across the table at sit-downs when a man owed tribute and came with excuses instead of cash. "Don't be dramatic. You know I had to marry you because of the kids. Catarina made me." "And I stayed," I shot back, tears burning in my eyes. "For them. For you. I stayed when I should have left a long time ago. But not anymore." I didn't wait for him to respond. I couldn't. If I did, I might break. I pushed past him, my shoulder brushing against his chest, my vision blurred with tears I refused to let fall. "I'm leaving, Enzo. For good." A sharp knock on the door startled both of us. "Sir, it's time. Don Montecarlo's entrance," one of the household soldiers called from the hallway, his tone respectful but urgent. Enzo exhaled, as if irritated by the interruption, and adjusted his tie, his expression smoothing over into that familiar mask of composure. That perfect, untouchable image he showed the world. His thumb ran along the edge of his jaw, slow, unconscious, as if the gesture could seal over whatever crack I'd just put in his armor. "Come on, Seraphina," he said, as if nothing had just happened, as if I hadn't just told him I was leaving him. "Clean yourself up. You're still playing the piano for Don. We can discuss this nonsense later." Nonsense. That was all this was to him. "No, Enzo," I said quietly, but firmly. "I said I'm done." His hand twitched at his side, like he wanted to grab me, to stop me. But in the end, he didn't. Instead, he gave me one last cold, dismissive look before turning away. Without another word, he walked out and closed the door behind him softly, as if sealing everything that had just happened inside this room. Like it didn't matter. Like I didn't matter. That was Enzo Montecarlo. Always pretending. Always smoothing things over. Always pushing everything inconvenient out of sight, burying it under layers of silence and omertà, that code he wielded not to protect the family but to protect himself from having to feel anything at all. I sank down slowly onto the edge of the bed, my body giving out beneath me. Exhaustion washed over me in waves, heavy and suffocating. I felt broken… completely shattered. Somewhere beyond the bedroom door, the compound hummed with preparations for Don Montecarlo's arrival. Silver being polished. Soldiers checking the perimeter. The whole estate performing its loyalty. And here I sat, in the silence they left behind, pressing two fingers against the inside of my left wrist where my mother's bracelet once sat. The press deepened into a grip. But then something caught my eye. A small slip of paper, barely visible, sticking out from beneath my pillow. My brows furrowed. That hadn't been there before. With trembling fingers, I reached for it and pulled it out. Something else came with it. Photos. No… not just photos. My photo. The one I had kept hidden. The only picture I had left of my parents. The last piece of my old life I had managed to protect in this house that had taken everything else from me. Or at least… it had been. Now it was destroyed. Shredded into countless tiny fragments, each piece torn cleanly, deliberately, like someone had taken their time to make sure it could never be whole again.

My breath hitched violently. My hand flew to my mouth, but it did nothing to stop the sob that tore out of me. Then I saw the note. Written in messy, childish handwriting. "We told you to leave. Next time, it won't just be a photo." My fingers curled tightly around the torn pieces, crushing them in my fist as my entire body shook uncontrollably. Why? Why this? That picture… it was all I had left. Of my parents. Of my past. Of the life I used to have before everything fell apart. I pressed the broken pieces against my chest, as if I could somehow hold them together, as if I could stop the pain from spreading any further. Memories flooded in without warning. Gianna climbing into my bed in the middle of the night when she had nightmares, her tiny hands clutching my sleeve. Matteo holding onto my fingers tightly when he stuttered in front of others, looking to me for reassurance. Lucia hiding behind me whenever she was scared, peeking out from my back like I was her shield. All those nights I stayed awake for them. All those tears I wiped away. All those lullabies I sang until my voice went hoarse. And yet… Not once. Not even for a second. Did they ever see me as their mother. And now… they wanted me gone. Like I had never mattered at all. Like I was nothing. I forced myself to stand, my legs unsteady beneath me. I wiped my face roughly, smearing away the tears, and began to pack. Only the essentials. My wallet. My phone. And my mother's old scarf. At the very back of the closet, tucked away where I hadn't looked in years, I found a small velvet box. My heart clenched. The bracelet. My mother's bracelet. I opened it slowly, almost afraid of what I would find. And then I saw it. Crushed. Broken clean in two. Another piece of me… destroyed. For a moment, I just stared at it, my mind blank, my heart too numb to even react properly. My left hand drifted to my bare wrist and pressed hard against the skin where the bracelet had sat for years, the emptiness there worse than any wound on my body. Then, carefully, I picked up the broken bracelet and placed it into my bag. No tears came this time. I had none left to give. Downstairs, the celebration was already in full swing. Laughter echoed through the halls of the Montecarlo estate. Glasses clinked. Voices blended into a cheerful hum. I could hear soldiers and capos and their wives all performing their loyalty, the way they did at every gathering the Old Don hosted. Enzo was down there too. Smiling. Talking. Playing his role perfectly. As if I had never existed. I pulled my sleeves down tightly, trying to cover the angry red bites that still burned across my skin. My hand throbbed painfully, swollen and tender, but there was nothing I could do about it. Taking a steadying breath, I opened the door and stepped out. I heard them before I saw them. Lined up along the corridor like a receiving line of small, well-dressed judges. The hall sconces caught the silk of their clothes, the sheen of their hair, and the flatness behind their eyes. "Wicked witch changed her dress," Gianna snickered. "Doesn't fix her face," Nico added with a laugh, one shoulder lifting in that careless shrug. "Shhh," Alessia said with a smirk. "She still has to play the piano. Let's not ruin Grandpa's party… yet." Each word struck like a blade. But I kept walking. Step by step. Face composed. Smile forced. The grand room opened around me, heavy with cigar smoke and the low murmur of men who understood that the Old Don's birthday was as much a summit as a celebration. I sat down at the piano, my hands trembling as I placed them on the keys. The familiar melody began to flow, even as pain shot through my fingers with every movement. I had practiced this piece for weeks. Now, I played it like a ghost. All eyes were on me. I could feel them. The whispers. The curious stares. The quiet gasps at my appearance. Wives leaning toward each other. A soldier near the doorway shifting his weight, uncomfortable with something he couldn't name. But I didn't stop. I couldn't stop. When the final note faded into silence, I stood immediately and slipped away before anyone could approach me. I needed air. I needed space. I needed to breathe. And I needed Miso. But before I could take more than a few steps into the garden, a voice stopped me. "Seraphina." I turned slowly, blinking back tears as I faced him. The only person in this house who had ever shown me even a fraction of kindness. He stood beneath the garden pergola, both hands resting on the silver head of his cane, watching me with eyes that had judged men for half a century and never once been fooled. "Happy Birthday, Grandpa," I said softly. He frowned deeply, his eyes scanning my face, taking in every bruise, every mark. "On my happiest day, you look the saddest. What happened?"

Before I could answer— They appeared. All six of them. And Enzo. My heart sank instantly. Don Montecarlo's gaze shifted to them, sharp and questioning. "Did you attack Seraphina?" Enzo sighed, already looking annoyed. "Seraphina, not tonight. I told you, we'd talk later." The Old Don raised his hand, silencing him without even looking his way. "Kids?" "It was just a prank," Nico said smoothly, without hesitation. "Apologize," Don Montecarlo ordered firmly. Gianna stepped forward, her expression shifting instantly into innocence, her eyes wide and soft. "We're sorry, Aunty Seraphina. We didn't mean it." "Yeah, sorry," Matteo added quickly. "We even brought you a gift." My body went rigid. A gift. Gianna held out a neatly wrapped red box, her smile sweet and harmless. "You'll love it," she said. Every instinct in my body screamed at me not to take it. Not to touch it. But Enzo's gaze hardened, warning, pressuring. "They apologized, Seraphina. Don't be petty." Don Montecarlo nodded gently. "Accept their apology. Children make mistakes." My hands trembled as I reached out, slowly peeling back the ribbon. My breathing grew shallow, uneven. The moment I lifted the lid— The world tilted. A scream tore out of my throat before I could stop it. Inside the box— Miso. My puppy. Lying completely still. Lifeless. His soft white fur… soaked in red. And beneath his small, fragile body— Another note. "You'll be next if you don't leave." The box slipped from my hands, crashing to the ground. Everything spun. Enzo froze. Don Montecarlo murmured something in shock. And the children… They simply smirked. Then turned away. As if none of it mattered. As if he had never mattered. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't see. All I could see… Was Miso's lifeless eyes staring back at me. Don Montecarlo's cane slammed against the marble floor with a sharp, bone-rattling crack as he stepped forward, the sound echoing through the hall and silencing everything in an instant. Two soldiers by the far door straightened. A conversation across the room died mid-word. "Who did this?" His voice carried no trace of weakness. It was cold, commanding, and filled with restrained fury. No one answered. The six children stood there with their heads lowered, shoulders tense, putting on the perfect act of innocence. Anyone else might have believed them. But I saw it. I saw Gianna's lips twitch slightly, the faintest hint of a cruel smile before she quickly hid it. Her chin tilted up and to the left, just barely, the same angle I'd seen when she delivered her worst words. Then she caught herself and let it drop. Enzo looked pale, his composure cracking. "I… I didn't know. I swear." Don Montecarlo turned to him slowly, his gaze cutting like a blade. "Do not swear, Enzo. Your ignorance is your shame." I held Miso closer, his small body limp in my arms. His white fur was soaked red, sticky against my skin. My tears fell onto his face, but he did not move. He never would again. My left hand found my wrist, fingers pressing down hard against the bare skin where my mother's bracelet once sat, pressing until the pressure burned, until it was the only thing I could feel besides the grief. "He was just a puppy," I whispered, my voice breaking apart. "He didn't do anything wrong. He didn't deserve this." Don Montecarlo's cane struck the ground again, louder this time, filled with anger. He gripped the silver head with both hands and rested his chin on his knuckles, and the room went still in a way that had nothing to do with the hour and everything to do with what that posture meant. Every man in the family who had seen it before felt their mouths go dry. "You think this is a joke?" he thundered, his voice echoing across the hall. "You think harming the innocent is something to laugh about?" The children flinched. "You will each receive twenty lashes tonight," he continued without hesitation. "For one full month, you will have no outings, no toys, no entertainment of any kind. You will rise at dawn and scrub this entire estate until your hands bleed." Gianna gasped, lifting her head. "But Grandpa—" "Silence," he snapped. "But it was just a prank—" "A prank?" Don Montecarlo's voice rose, filled with disbelief and rage. "You call this a prank? Taking the life of a helpless creature? Shame on all of you." Enzo tried to say something, but the Old Don silenced him with a single look. The same look that had once stripped a capo of his territory in front of twenty men without a word being spoken. "This is my house," Don Montecarlo said firmly. "And Seraphina is still family under this roof. If she wishes it, I will throw every one of you out myself." Enzo froze, clearly shaken. For a fleeting moment, something stirred inside me. A faint sense of protection. But it came far too late. Nothing could undo what had already happened. I stood up slowly and walked past them, ignoring their whispers, ignoring the hatred in their eyes. I did not look back. In the garden, beneath the dim night sky, I knelt down and began digging with my bare hands.

The soil was cold and damp. It clung to my fingers, filled my nails, scraped my skin raw. I did not stop. I could not stop. My tears fell into the dirt as I carved out a small grave behind the garden wall, where the security lights didn't reach and the soldiers on night rotation never patrolled. "I'm sorry, Miso," I sobbed quietly. He had been my only comfort in this place. The only one who loved me without conditions. The only one who stayed by my side. And now he was gone. Just like that. Something inside me broke completely. Later that night, I walked through the east corridor of the Montecarlo estate, my body heavy and numb. The hallway was lined with portraits of dead men in dark suits, their painted eyes following anyone who passed. Then I heard them. Soft whispers. Low giggles. I turned slowly. They stood there, all six of them, each holding a candle. The flickering flames cast strange shadows across their faces, making their smiles look twisted and unnatural. "You told on us," Alessia said sweetly, her voice filled with hidden venom. Gianna stepped forward, her eyes gleaming. Her chin tilted up and to the left. "Nonno punished us because of you." "I didn't tell," I said quietly, trying to walk past them. Matteo stepped in front of me, blocking my way. "You cried like a baby. We saw you." "Where's your puppy now?" Nico added with a sneer. One shoulder lifted in that careless shrug of his. My chest tightened, but I forced myself to stay calm. "Move." "Or what?" Rocco smirked. "You'll run and complain again?" "You're powerless now," Lucia said with a cold smile. They began to circle me slowly. Then they tilted their candles. Hot wax dripped onto my skin. I gasped as the burning drops hit my arms and neck, pain spreading instantly across my body. Before I could react, a new voice echoed through the corridor. "Children, that is not how we treat family." I froze. Valentina walked in calmly, as if she owned everything. The woman they adored. The woman Enzo truly loved. Her emerald satin robe shimmered under the corridor lights, her red hair flowing over her shoulders. She moved through the Montecarlo estate like a woman whose name was already on the deed. "Mamma Valentina," the children cheered, running to her. "My babies," she said gently, kissing their foreheads. She finally looked at me, her smile soft but cold. "Oh. Seraphina. Still here?" I clenched my fists. "What do you want, Valentina?" She stepped closer, lowering her voice. "I heard about the dog. Such a shame. But maybe now you can focus on yourself." "Move," I said. She did not move. Instead, she leaned in closer. Her fingertips drifted to the hollow of her throat, lingering there for half a breath before dropping away. "You poor thing. No family. No friends. No place here." Before I could react, she grabbed my hair and yanked my head back. I tried to scream, but her hand covered my mouth and nose, cutting off my breath. Panic surged through me. I struggled, my body thrashing, my lungs burning for air. Behind her, the children giggled and continued dripping hot wax onto my skin. Darkness crept into my vision. Then a voice called out. "Is anyone here?" Enzo. The children stepped back immediately. Valentina let go of me and shoved me aside. I collapsed against the wall, gasping desperately, my chest heaving as I fought for air. My body trembled, covered in hardened wax and pain. She had almost killed me. "Enzo," Valentina called sweetly, wrapping her arms around him. "I was just comforting Seraphina. She has been overwhelmed." Enzo frowned at me. "Seraphina, what is going on now?" "She yelled at us," Matteo said quickly. "She said she hated us," Rocco added. "She scared Alessia," Gianna said softly. "That is not true," I said, my voice shaking. "She is just upset about the dog," Valentina said gently. "We should be patient." Enzo's expression hardened. The way a man's face hardens when he has already chosen a side and resents being asked to justify it. "Seraphina, this is getting out of hand." Something inside me shattered again. I turned away. They would never listen. Never understand. I went back to my room. The room they had given me at the far end of the east wing, where the walls were thin enough to hear the soldiers changing shifts outside and thick enough that no one heard what happened inside. My suitcase was still there. Waiting. I checked my phone. My flight confirmation had arrived. The documents I requested would be ready in the morning. I only needed to survive until then. My fingers pressed hard against the inside of my left wrist, against the bare skin where my mother's bracelet once sat. I held them there until the shaking stopped. The next morning, my phone buzzed urgently. A message. "Aunty Seraphina, help us. We have been kidnapped." My heart stopped. Another message followed. "They took us to the forest behind the estate. Do not tell Nonno or Daddy. They will kill us if you do." My hands trembled. After everything they had done to me, after all the pain they caused, they were still children. Six lives. Six heirs to the Montecarlo bloodline. I could not ignore it. I grabbed my keys and ran. The forest beyond the estate's perimeter wall was dense and quiet. The path was unclear, the trees towering above me. The security cameras didn't reach this far. No one patrolled past the old stone boundary. The location led me to a cliff. "Kids?" I called out, breathless. "Gianna? Matteo?" There was a rustling sound. Then laughter. Cold and cruel. "You actually came," Gianna said, stepping out. Her chin was up, tilted to the left. One by one, they appeared from behind the trees. Dressed in black. Holding crossbows. My heart dropped. They surrounded me from all sides. Behind me was the cliff. No way out. "You should have left when we told you," Matteo said. His fingers were curled tight into his palms. "You are ruining everything," Gianna shouted. "You took Daddy," Alessia yelled. "Now we take him back," Matteo said coldly. "And avenge our mother," Lucia added. They raised their crossbows together. Six arrows aimed at me. My head. My heart. My eyes. My legs. My temples. My breath trembled. "No… please…" In the next second, the arrows flew toward me from all directions.

"You vicious woman, today you can finally die miserably!" "Finally, we killed the murderer of our dead mother with our own hands! We have avenged our mother!" The sextuplets spoke in unison, their voices fierce, each child's face filled with the pleasure of revenge. TWANG. Pain exploded through me. And everything went black. A low humming sound pulled me from the dark. My eyelids felt like bricks. My throat burned. My whole body… it didn't feel like mine. I opened my eyes. Bright, white ceiling. Circular windows. A soft beeping sound beside me. I was lying down. Strapped to tubes. A clear one in my hand. A needle in my arm. Something cold on my chest. My heart started to race. What is this? Where am I? I tried to sit up and pain exploded through my side. I cried out, gasping. "No, no, don't move!" That voice. I turned my head, slowly. He stepped into view. Tall, lean, slightly older. His hair was neater, darker now. But I'd know that voice anywhere. "Marco?" I croaked. He rushed to my side, his hand instantly covering mine. "It's me. You're safe now, Seraphina." I blinked through the blinding pain and tears. "You're… here?" He smiled softly. "Yeah. I'm here." My chest trembled. "Am I… alive?" He let out a shaky breath. "You are. And you're going to be okay." "But I… I fell. I remember arrows. I remember falling," I whispered, voice cracking. Marco sat beside me. "You were shot with six arrows. They hit you almost at once. You were standing at the edge of the cliff when it happened." I flinched. That part I remembered. The faces. The betrayal. The sound of their bows snapping. "I fell, didn't I?" I asked. "You did," he said. "But you didn't hit the ground." "What?" "You clung to a boulder just beneath the edge. Somehow, even after being shot like that, you didn't let go." I stared at him. "But I passed out." "You did. By the time we got to you, you'd lost so much blood. You were barely conscious." "How… how did you even find me?" "I had eyes on your phone. I'd been worried, Sera. I hadn't heard from you. Something felt wrong." Tears spilled down my cheeks. "You saved me…" He nodded, his own eyes turning glassy. "I thought I lost you. But you're still here." I tried to lift my hand to touch him but winced again. "Don't force it," he said gently. "You're hooked up to pain meds, blood transfusions. You're still healing." I looked around slowly. "Where… are we?" He smiled faintly. "Private jet. I had you moved from the cliffside straight to emergency care. This was faster. Safer." "Marco…" My voice trailed off. "We grew up in a one-room apartment over the bakery on Mulberry Street. You used to run numbers for old Sal just so we could eat dinner. How in the world do you have a private jet now?" He chuckled. "A lot's changed since we last saw each other." "Ten years," I whispered. "It's been ten years." "I know," he said, a shadow passing over his face. "We lost time." We both went quiet for a moment. My chest ached, both physically and emotionally. Marco was my only family left. After Mom and Dad were killed in that fire, the one everybody in the neighborhood knew wasn't an accident, we had no one but each other. He was only seventeen when I left. We had one fight, just one, and I disappeared into Enzo's world. Into the Montecarlo compound where no one from the old life could reach me. And now… he was the one who pulled me out of the abyss. Literally. "You look… good," I said softly. "You look like hell," he joked. I cracked a small smile. "Yeah… I feel like it too." He reached out and brushed a strand of hair off my forehead. "I can't believe how strong you were. Holding onto a rock while bleeding out. That's something else." I blinked. "I didn't even know I was that strong." Marco looked serious. "You always were. You just forgot." I swallowed hard. "So," I said, shifting my eyes back to the ceiling. "You're successful now?" "I run with a powerful outfit. Partnerships. Logistics. High-stakes recovery." He paused, choosing his words the way men in this life always did. "The kind of work that keeps certain families very well protected." "Must be pretty high-stakes if you're using jets like taxis," I muttered. He laughed. "It's not that glamorous. But it gets the job done." I studied him. "You're really not the skinny boy who used to cry when I scraped my knees." "No," he said, then added, "and you're not the reckless girl who used to think love could fix everything." That hit deep. Silence again. Until the door opened. I looked over, confused. A man stepped inside. He was tall. Maybe 6'3. His suit looked like it cost more than a year of tributes from a mid-level capo. Sharp lines. Pressed cuffs. A heavy signet ring on his right hand that caught the cabin light. He had dark eyes, full lashes, and skin that practically glowed under the cabin lights. His hair was neatly styled. His jaw was carved like stone. I couldn't look away. The two soldiers flanking the cabin entrance straightened without being told. The air in the jet shifted, tightened, as if the pressurization had changed when he walked through the door. "Uh…" I blinked. Marco stood up. "Seraphina, I want you to meet someone." The man stepped forward with calm, confident strides. He moved like a man who had never been denied entry to any room in his life. "Dominic," Marco said. "This is my Don. My business partner." Dominic gave me a slight nod. "Pleasure." Even his voice sounded like it could buy you or bury you, and you wouldn't know which until it was too late. I blinked again. My throat was suddenly dry. "Hi…" Marco looked at me, then back at him. "And…" He hesitated. The knuckle of his right index finger cracked once, sharp, as if bracing for the blast radius. "He's also your husband-to-be." I froze. My ears rang. My heart stopped. "What?" I whispered.