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My Twin Sister Is Pregnant With My Husband’s Child
NovelShort
Hoàn thành
On the day I buried my parents, my husband Dante and my twin sister Valentina were nowhere to be found. They returned days later—together. Not with apologies, but with her pregnancy. I thought that ...
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第1章
The day I laid my parents to rest, two people who should have been there were conspicuously absent. My husband, Dante, and my fraternal twin sister, Valentina. Their empty places beside me felt louder than the prayers spoken over the grave.
My parents had died together, swallowed by the sea. My father had planned a short island getaway for my mother, a rare escape from the vineyard they had devoted their lives to. It was meant to be romantic. Peaceful. But the skies turned vicious without warning. The storm tore through the water, capsizing their boat before it ever reached land. When the Coast Guard finally recovered them, they were still clutching each other's hands, as if love alone could anchor them.
I was still standing at the cemetery when my phone vibrated.
A message from Valentina.
I opened it without thinking. The image on my screen knocked the air from my lungs. Dante was on one knee in front of her, pressing his lips to her rounded stomach like it was sacred. Like it was everything. Beneath the photo were the words: Guess who's finally going to be a dad?
My fingers trembled so badly I nearly dropped the phone. No. This couldn't be real. It had to be a sick joke. A lie.
Then another image loaded.
Any last shred of denial I had left vanished.
Valentina stood in front of my bedroom mirror, my silk robe wrapped around her body, phone lifted for a selfie. Behind her, sprawled across the bed I shared with my husband, Dante slept like a man with nothing to hide.
I couldn't breathe.
My husband had impregnated my twin sister.
Valentina had always been trouble. The wild one. Self-centered, impulsive, forever chasing chaos. My parents spent years shielding her from the consequences of her choices while I stayed behind, helping manage the vineyard, carrying responsibility on my back. But after I married Dante, she changed, or pretended to. She began copying me. My clothes. My scent. Even the way I styled my hair or held a glass of wine. I used to brush it off as admiration. Now I understood the truth. She wasn't imitating me. She was replacing me.
The tears came fast and blinding. My legs gave out, and I sank to my knees before my parents' grave. The soil was still loose, still raw. My sobs soaked into the earth as I fell apart in front of them.
I had noticed things before. The lingering looks, the quiet smiles, the way conversations died the second I entered the room. But I refused to believe that the two people I trusted most could betray me so completely.
My phone buzzed again.
This time, it was Dante.
"I'm sorry I couldn't come to the funeral," the message read. "Something urgent came up. We need to talk when I get home."
I already knew what that conversation would be about.
That evening, Dante walked in with Valentina beside him, suitcases in her hands like she belonged there. Two of his soldiers stood in the hallway behind them, faces blank, hands clasped in front of their belt buckles. They didn't look at me. Nobody ever looked at me when Dante was in the room.
"She'll be staying with us," he said gently, as if kindness could disinfect the rot of his actions. "Valentina's afraid to stay alone at the estate. She's pregnant. It's not safe."
The Castellano estate. My father's forty hectares of vines, barrels, and legacy, the last thing my parents left me. Of course she wouldn't stay there. Not when she could take my place here instead.
Valentina offered me a smile so sugary it made my stomach churn. "I'm really sorry, sis. I asked Dante to wait, but the baby has to come first. You understand, right? We're twins. I know this isn't ideal timing… especially with Mom and Dad just gone."
I stared at the floor, my chest tight, my lungs burning.
Dante pressed on. "She's your sister. Your blood. You wouldn't want anything bad to happen to her."
I wanted to scream. To throw whatever was within reach. To hurt him the way he had hurt me. Instead, I sat there, hollow and silent.
"I love you," he said, trying again. "Only you. What happened with Valentina was a mistake. It won't happen again."
My voice shook when I finally spoke. "She's carrying your child. And you're calling that a mistake?"
"Yes," he said firmly. "And we've already talked it through. Once she gives birth, the baby will be yours. You've always wanted a child, Seraphina. Since you can't have one, this is fate giving us a solution."
Those words hit deeper than any slap.
Since you can't have one.
I whispered, "You slept with my sister, got her pregnant, and now you expect me to be grateful?"
He dragged a hand through his hair, irritation flashing across his face. "Stop overreacting. This way, I finally get to be a father." His father's old signet ring caught the light as his hand dropped. He turned it once around his pinky, slow, deliberate, the way he always did when he felt the conversation slipping from his grip. "A man needs an heir, Seraphina. You know how the Family works."
Valentina suddenly began to cry, her shoulders shaking dramatically. "Dante… look what I've done. I've ruined everything. My own twin hates me."
I snapped. "Enough, Valentina. Drop the act."
She gasped, crying harder. "I… I should leave."
Dante's voice turned cold. "Stop it. You're upsetting her. No wonder you can't give me a child."
That sentence shattered what little was left of me.
He softened immediately, as if that could erase it. "I didn't mean it like that. I just don't want the baby hurt."
"Fine," I said quietly. "Then I want a divorce."
His face drained of color. "What did you say?"
Behind him, Valentina's lips curved in a satisfied smile.
"I want a divorce."
"Seraphina, please," Valentina said, fake sympathy dripping from every word. "We're family."
Dante shook his head. "You don't mean that."
"I do."
"All this because of one mistake?" He stepped closer, his voice dropping into something threatening. The signet ring went still. His hand flattened against the dining table, and the room seemed to contract around the sound of his palm meeting wood. "I'm Dante Valenti. Acting Boss of this Family. If you leave, I'll find you. I'll drag you back. And I'll burn that vineyard to the ground. Every vine. Every barrel. Every acre your father bled for."
My blood ran cold.
The vineyard. Forty hectares of vines, barrels, legacy. My parents' entire life. The last thing they left me. In this world, destroying a Family's ancestral property was an act of desecration. He knew exactly what he was threatening.
"Why?" I asked, my voice breaking. "Why are you doing this to me?"
"You brought it on yourself."
Tears streamed down my face. "You humiliate me, move her into my home, threaten everything I love. What else do you want from me?!"
"That baby will be ours," he said. "Why can't you just be happy?"
Happy.
Something inside me finally broke clean. I wiped my face and forced my voice steady. "I overreacted," I said. "I'll stay… for now. Just give me time."
Dante smiled and kissed my forehead.
That night, I slept curled up on the floor of the guest room, sobbing until my chest ached. Upstairs, Dante was with Valentina in the master bedroom. My bedroom. Through the walls of this house, through the enforced silence of a marriage that was never really a marriage but an alliance between bloodlines, I could hear just enough to know I had been erased.
I mourned my parents. I mourned my marriage. I mourned the woman I used to be.
When there were no tears left to cry, I reached for my phone and made a call. My fingers found the hollow of my throat where my mother's pendant used to hang. The chain was gone, buried with the woman whose body had been recovered from the water still holding my father's hand. My fingertips touched bare skin, and something in my spine straightened.
I contacted the one man who despised Dante as much as I did. The only person he truly feared.
His older half-brother.
Lazaro Falcone.
第2章
Lazaro answered on the first ring. His tone was calm, almost polished, yet there was something underneath it, something dense and suffocating, like pressure building before a storm.
"Seraphina," he said slowly, each syllable measured. "I don't usually answer calls from the dead. Tell me why you're calling."
Just hearing him sent a chill down my spine. Lazaro Falcone wasn't merely Dante's older half-brother. He was the man who ran Circolo Nero, the ancient smuggling syndicate that operated behind the façade of a luxury wine and spirits empire. In Lazaro's world, death wasn't loud or messy. People simply vanished, erased so thoroughly it was as if they had never existed.
"I want Dante destroyed," I said, forcing the words out. "Not hurt. Not scared. Ruined. I can't do it by myself."
Silence followed. Not the awkward kind. The dangerous kind. Long enough for me to picture him weighing my usefulness against my mortality. Then came a low laugh, quiet and dark, not mocking. Approving.
"So you finally called," he murmured. "Go on."
I told him everything. The affair with Valentina. Bringing her into my home the very day I buried my parents. The way he threatened to burn down the vineyard my family had tended vine by vine, generation by generation, the land Don Castellano had loved more than anything outside of blood. Every cruel remark. Every calculated humiliation.
Lazaro didn't interrupt once. When he finally spoke, his voice dropped to something almost intimate. "How soon do you want him erased?"
"Four days," I answered.
"Plenty of time," he replied coolly. "I can put a man underground faster than that."
For the first time in weeks, something warm flickered in my chest. Relief. Maybe even hope.
"I'll take care of it," Lazaro added. "But nothing comes free."
My fingers tightened around the phone. "What's the cost?"
"Marry me."
I sucked in a sharp breath. "Excuse me?"
"Say yes," he said calmly, "and you become untouchable. No one harms what belongs to me. Not the Falcones. Least of all Dante."
Then the line went dead. No farewell. No hesitation.
That night, sleep refused to come. Lazaro's voice echoed in my head, steady, merciless, absolute. Becoming his wife meant stepping into a blood alliance with the most feared Don on the eastern seaboard, a realm where executions were silent, smiles concealed knives, and the wine cellars beneath his compound hid more than vintage barrels. Power, in his world, was traded in blood.
But if I stood beside him, Dante would never come near me again.
By morning, fate struck again.
I sat alone in the clinic's waiting area, staring at the slip of paper the nurse had handed me. The Family's private doctor ran a discreet practice three blocks from the waterfront, the kind of place that kept no paper trail the Feds could follow.
Positive.
Not one heartbeat.
Two.
I was pregnant, with twins.
A bitter laugh escaped me as tears blurred the words. Six years earlier, doctors had told me pregnancy was impossible. After the crash. After the night Dante drove drunk and furious, raging about a shipment deal gone wrong with one of the other Families. The car had slammed into a roadside barrier, the impact crushing my lower abdomen. I remembered drifting in and out of consciousness in the hospital while he whispered, I didn't mean it, before disappearing for days.
The doctors said the damage was irreversible. I believed them. I endured the whispers. The labels. Barren. Defective. Worthless. In a world where a woman's value to a Family was measured first by the sons she could produce, those words were a death sentence spoken slowly.
And now, this.
My phone buzzed.
A message from Lazaro.
Three days. Make your choice.
Three days. Three days until freedom, but what about the lives growing inside me? Could I bring them into a world built on betrayal? On men like Dante? Or worse, men like Lazaro?
I left the clinic numb and drove home on autopilot.
The door shut behind me.
"Well, well," a voice drawled. "You look like death warmed over."
I sank onto the couch without responding. Then I heard a car pull into the driveway. My chest tightened. Dante. I stood up, intending to leave before he saw me, but Valentina stepped directly into my path.
"Don't rush off," she sneered. "Stay. Watch your husband kiss me hello."
I shoved past her and locked myself in the guest room, hands trembling so badly I nearly dropped the key.
It didn't matter.
The door flew open with a violent bang. I spun around just in time to see Dante's hand swing.
Pain exploded across my face. The slap knocked me off balance, ears ringing as I hit the floor. My vision went dark for a second, blood flooding my mouth with a metallic taste.
I didn't move. I couldn't.
He had never hit me before.
"W-what was that?" I gasped, my voice breaking. "Why would you do that?"
Dante's expression was stone cold. "How dare you touch Valentina," he snapped. "She's carrying my blood, damn it. Is this who you are now, Seraphina?"
My stomach twisted violently. "I didn't touch her. I swear."
Valentina stepped forward smoothly, as if she'd been rehearsing. Her posture mirrored Dante's rigid stance, shoulders squared, chin lifted, a perfect echo of his outrage reflected back at him. "I went to check on her," she said softly. "I brought her tea, Dante. I just wanted to help. But she." Her breath hitched. "She slapped me. Told me I should've died instead of our parents. Said the world would be better without me." She glanced at me, tears shimmering. "She said she hated me… and that she wanted me dead."
My heart pounded. "That's not true."
"She grabbed a knife," Valentina continued, ignoring me. "Pointed it at me. Said she wanted to see the light leave my eyes. I thought she was going to stab me right there."
And in that moment, as Dante's fury burned into me and Valentina's lie settled perfectly into place, I realized something terrifying.
This house was no longer my home.
It was a cage.
第3章
"You're a liar. A damn witch."
She turned her face away as if my words had wounded her deeply, playing the victim to perfection. But I caught it — the brief flash of triumph in her eyes before she hid it.
Dante's voice cut through the room, sharp and dangerous. "Get out of my sight before I completely lose my temper."
"You actually believe her?" My throat burned as I spoke, raw with disbelief.
He didn't hesitate. Not even for a second. "You've changed, Seraphina. Losing the baby back then shattered you. All that's left now is resentment."
A hollow laugh slipped out of me, harsh and broken. Blood trickled to my lip, warm and sticky. I brushed it away with the back of my hand. His gaze dropped to the red stain, and for the briefest moment, something like regret flickered across his face. In the hallway beyond the door, I could hear the soft shuffle of one of his soldiers repositioning, close enough to intervene if called. Always listening. Always there.
"Ser—" he began.
A soft whine sounded behind him.
"My head hurts…" Valentina murmured weakly. "She hit me so hard, Dante."
He turned to her instantly, pulling her into his arms as if I no longer existed. Over his shoulder, Valentina met my eyes, her mouth curving into the faintest, cruelest smile.
Three days.
I only had to endure three more days.
The next morning, I left the house before anyone noticed. The Valenti estate sat behind its walls in the early light, the guards at the gatehouse barely glancing at me as I passed. I was the Boss's wife. I could still leave. For now.
The air outside was crisp, but my chest felt unbearably heavy as I sat once again in the clinic's waiting room. Not a hospital. The Family's private clinic on Mulberry, the one that kept no records the Feds could subpoena. My hand rested over my stomach — still flat, still quiet — but I knew what was there. Two heartbeats. Two lives I never believed I'd be given.
When the nurse called my name, my legs felt unsteady as I followed her inside. The doctor looked up, surprise crossing his face.
"Mrs. Valenti," he said slowly. "I remember you."
I managed a small nod.
He skimmed my file, then met my eyes again. "Are you absolutely sure this is what you want?"
I stayed silent.
"Seraphina," he said gently, "this pregnancy is nothing short of a miracle. If you terminate it, there won't be another chance."
His words landed hard. I pressed my palm against my stomach. I remembered every night I cried myself to sleep, begging for just one miracle. Every forced smile when another capo's wife announced her pregnancy at Sunday dinner and the whole table erupted in congratulations while I sat there hollowed out. Every quiet moment of heartbreak. And now that the impossible had finally happened, I was moments away from throwing it away because of Dante. Because of his cruelty.
Something cracked inside my chest. Tears spilled down my face before I could stop them. My voice trembled, barely audible. "I'm… I'm keeping them."
The doctor's expression softened. "You're making the right decision."
When I stepped outside, the world felt lighter somehow. I wasn't free yet — but in three days, I would be. I would vanish with my children and build a new life far from this rot. Far from the Valenti name and everything it had cost me.
"Seraphina!"
I froze.
Turning slowly, I saw Dante walking toward me, his stride urgent. A black sedan idled at the curb behind him, one of his soldiers leaning against the driver's door with the practiced stillness of a man paid to wait.
Before I could move, his hand closed around my arm. "Thank God I found you," he said, gripping me so tightly I knew bruises would bloom later.
"What now?" I asked dully, exhaustion weighing down every word.
"It's Valentina," he said. "She's in the hospital. High fever all night — from stress, and from what you did to her." His stare was sharp, condemning. "This is on you."
A dry, bitter laugh escaped me. "I've told you a hundred times — I never touched her."
He ignored me. "She collapsed this morning. Her fever spiked. She's weak. The doctors say she needs a blood transfusion."
I frowned. "And why is that my problem?"
His jaw clenched. The signet ring on his pinky caught the light as his hand tightened. "You're her twin. You're a match. You're the only one who can save her."
"You expect my blood? After everything she's done?" My stomach twisted violently.
His grip tightened until pain shot up my arm. "This isn't about your feelings. This is about saving lives. You can wallow later. Right now, you're doing the right thing."
I tried to pull free, but he dragged me toward the parking lot. My heels scraped against the pavement. "There are other donors. Find someone else. I'm not doing this."
He stopped abruptly and turned to me, his voice turning icy. "You will. Because this is your fault."
My fingers drifted to my throat. Bare skin. The hollow where my mother's pendant used to rest. Nothing there but the ghost of it, and the memory of the body it had been placed on so I could disappear. My hand dropped back to my side.
"You'll never choose me over her, will you?" I asked quietly.
He didn't respond. Just tugged me forward again.
I swallowed hard, my heart pounding, then finally said the words I'd been hiding.
"I'm pregnant."
第4章
That finally made him stop.
He turned slowly, disbelief written all over his face as he stared at me. "What did you just say?"
"I'm pregnant," I said again, my voice trembling but steady enough to carry. "The doctor told me it's practically a miracle I conceived at all. It's a high-risk pregnancy… and it's twins, Dante. If you take my blood, you could kill them. Our children."
For a brief second, everything went quiet.
Then he laughed.
It was a harsh, ugly sound that cut straight through me. "You really expect me to buy that?" His lips curled in contempt. "You're disgusting enough to fake a pregnancy just to avoid helping your own sister?"
"I'm telling the truth," I whispered.
"No, you're not," he snapped. "You've always been a liar, Seraphina. You'll give the blood. End of story."
Something inside me finally shattered. "I'm not killing my babies for her!"
His face darkened, fury rolling off him like a storm. "Then I'll burn that vineyard your parents spent their lives building. Row by row. I'll make you stand there and watch while I rip out every vine, crush the soil until nothing ever grows again. No wine. No barrels. No trace that they ever existed."
My blood went cold.
That vineyard wasn't just land. It was the Castellano legacy. Decades of work since my father first broke ground, every vine planted by his hands and my mother's. I grew up running between those rows, breathing in the sweetness of harvest season. It was the last proof my family had ever existed, and the one thing even the Valenti name couldn't seize through a marriage contract. He knew exactly how to use it against me.
"Y-you wouldn't," I stammered.
Dante stepped closer, invading my space until I could feel his breath against my skin. His father's old signet ring caught the fluorescent light as his hand hung at his side, perfectly still. His eyes were sharp, merciless. "Test me."
I stared at him, my chest heaving. This was the man I once loved. The man who once swore he'd protect me. Now he was the one I needed protection from.
My hand drifted to my stomach without thinking. The twins. My babies. Tears slid down my face, silent and helpless.
When he grabbed my arm and yanked me forward, I didn't resist. Fighting him had never ended well. I followed quietly, swallowing the sobs clawing at my throat.
He took me straight into the private room at the Family's clinic, the one he'd arranged for Valentina. She lay in the bed, pale and frail, IV lines running into her arm, eyes rimmed red. She let out weak little whimpers, like she was barely holding on. A soldier stood outside the door. He didn't look at me as we passed.
Dante rushed to her side. "I'm here, Daph," he murmured, brushing her hair back gently, so tender, so different from how he treated me. "You're going to be okay. I brought her."
Her lips quivered. "Everything hurts, Dante… I feel so bad."
I stood frozen, watching my husband cradle my sister like she was made of glass. Then Valentina cracked one eye open and looked at me.
She smiled.
No. She smirked. Just for a split second before closing her eyes again.
Bitch.
Anger churned violently in my gut.
I stepped forward to speak, but Dante turned so fast I barely had time to react. His hand clamped around my wrist, grip iron-hard. One look from him told me exactly what would happen if I opened my mouth. In this world, in his world, a wife did not contradict her husband in front of witnesses. The consequences were never spoken aloud. They didn't need to be.
The door swung open, and the doctor entered, eyes flicking between us.
"She's deteriorating," Dante said flatly, not even glancing at me. "Start the transfusion immediately."
"She's stable enough to—" the doctor began, but Valentina whimpered again.
"We're not waiting," Dante cut in. "The donor's right here."
The doctor's gaze settled on me. He nodded once and instructed the nurses to prepare.
My body went rigid when I saw the needle. Cold sweat broke across my skin. I'd always been terrified of needles, and Dante knew it. Years ago, he used to hold my hand, murmur reassurances, distract me until it was over.
Now, he didn't even look at me.
At Valentina's next whimper, he abandoned me entirely and rushed back to her side.
I turned my head away as the doctor approached. In my mind, I begged anyone, God, fate, even the devil, to make this stop.
The needle hovered inches from my arm when the door slammed open.
"Stop!"
Another doctor rushed in, clutching a folder, breathless. "You can't proceed."
The room fell silent.
"Mrs. Falcone is pregnant!" he announced loudly.
The needle was lowered at once.
Dante blinked, his face twitching. "That's impossible. She can't—"
The doctor stepped forward and shoved the file into his hands. "She was here this morning for a consultation and cancelled it. She's carrying twins. High-risk."
Relief crashed over me so hard my knees nearly buckled. Finally. Proof. Someone believed me.
But before I could fully breathe, Dante lifted his head.
His voice was cold as ice. "I don't give a fuck. Take her blood."
I stared at him, stunned. "What?"
"You heard me," he said, jaw tight. His hand was flat against the folder, pressing it down against the edge of the bed like a verdict already sealed. The signet ring had stopped moving.
The room went dead quiet except for the steady beeping of machines.
One of the nurses hesitated, then spoke carefully. "Mr. Falcone, your wife cannot donate blood. She's pregnant, with twins, and it's a high-risk pregnancy. Proceeding could cost both babies."
Dante didn't even blink. He stepped forward, voice sharp and commanding. "I heard you. Do it anyway."
The doctor looked between us, shaken. "Sir, this could endanger her life as well. We can't—"
"You can," Dante snapped. "I'm paying you enough to do exactly what I say."
My chest tightened painfully. This was my husband. The man I once trusted with my life.
Dante's gaze swept the room. Every nurse, every doctor, the soldier who had stepped inside the doorway at the sound of raised voices. The silence that followed was the kind I had learned to recognize since marrying into this Family. It was the silence of people calculating whether their conscience was worth more than their breathing.
"I am Dante Falcone. Every one of you is here because my Family allows it. Defy me, and you'll regret it."
第5章
The nurses went rigid. The doctor dropped his gaze to the floor. No one in that room wanted to be the one who challenged him.
One of the nurses finally turned toward me, her voice hesitant, almost remorseful. "Mrs. Valenti… we need your permission to proceed."
I looked straight at Dante, tears slipping down my face one after another. "You've always said you wanted a child. And now that I'm carrying your twins, you're willing to sacrifice them for Valentina and her fake illness?"
He let out a harsh laugh. "You were planning to get rid of them anyway."
I shook my head slowly. "You just heard that I canceled the procedure."
Dante sighed like I was being unreasonable. "Seraphina, your pregnancy is unstable. The odds aren't good. Valentina's situation is safer. Her baby actually has a chance."
My stomach sank. "So you're choosing to kill mine for hers."
He stepped closer, his tone softening as if that could justify it. "It's not like that. Valentina's condition is worsening. Yours…" He shrugged. "You might not even make it another month."
I couldn't find my voice. I could only stare at him and finally understand the truth. This wasn't about saving a life. It was about choosing a woman. And he had never chosen me. The signet ring on his pinky was still. His hand lay flat against his thigh. The decision had been made long before we entered this room.
"You've already decided," I whispered.
From the bed, Valentina let out a small, rehearsed cough. Dante's attention snapped to her immediately, as if I'd vanished from the room.
The nurse's hand brushed my arm, gentle, sympathetic. "Mrs. Valenti… please."
Dante never once looked back.
I swallowed, my throat burning. "Go ahead."
The needle pierced my skin. I watched my blood flow into the tubing, my gaze fixed on the floor as I fought back sobs. My chest tightened, dizziness crashing over me in waves. The private clinic was quiet except for the hum of monitors and the low, steady drip. Somewhere beyond the reinforced door, one of Dante's soldiers shifted his weight, leather creaking.
The nurse glanced at the monitor and gasped. "Her vitals are dropping!"
"Stop the transfusion," the doctor ordered sharply.
Dante shoved him aside. "Don't you dare stop. Valentina needs it."
"She's stable," the nurse argued.
"You're blind if you think she's fine," Dante barked.
Pain ripped through me. My vision swam, metallic taste filling my mouth. My body shook uncontrollably.
Somewhere through the haze, Lazaro crossed my mind. His voice, the way he'd said finally, as though he'd always known this moment would come. I'd asked him to wait. I'd never said yes.
The staff argued with Dante, their voices overlapping. He never once looked at me. His eyes were only on Valentina.
With the last of my strength, I whispered, barely audible, "Please… save my babies."
Then everything faded to black.
When I woke up, I almost wished I hadn't.
My entire body screamed in pain, like I'd been thrown down stairs and crushed for good measure. There was an awful emptiness inside me, a hollow ache that felt like something essential had been ripped away. My fingers drifted to my stomach and found it flat, foreign, wrong.
"Oh, Mrs. Valenti. You're awake," a female doctor said softly from beside my bed. "We were afraid we might lose you."
My throat felt raw. My limbs were heavy, sore, bruised in places I didn't even know could bruise. The harsh clinic lights burned my eyes as I blinked, confused for a brief second, hoping, desperately, that it had all been a nightmare.
Then it came rushing back.
Dante. Valentina. The transfusion. The agony. The fear.
My heart slammed against my ribs as I turned toward the doctor. Her expression was too careful. Too gentle. I already knew.
"My babies…" My voice broke. "Please… tell me they're alive."
She hesitated.
That pause shattered me more than any words could have.
Her eyes softened as she shook her head. "We did everything we could. I'm so sorry. The twins didn't survive."
The world stopped.
Then I broke apart.
I cried until my lungs burned, until my body shook violently, until pain ripped through my stitches and my vision blurred with tears. I mourned the two tiny lives I never got to hold, the soft kicks I'd never feel, the future Dante had destroyed without hesitation. My fingers reached for the hollow of my throat where my mother's pendant once hung, and found only bare skin. Everything taken. Everything gone.
If I had known it would end like this, maybe I wouldn't have let myself love them. Maybe I would have ended it earlier, before hope took root.
When my sobs finally slowed, I wiped my face with trembling hands. My thoughts drifted back to Lazaro. To his offer. To his certainty.
"W-what day is it?" I asked weakly.
"It's Thursday," the doctor replied gently. "You've been unconscious for two days."
Two days.
Time was slipping away.
"Please… I need my phone."
"It's in the drawer beside you."
I grabbed it, my fingers shaking as I typed out the message.
I accept your offer. Meet me at the airport.
The reply came almost instantly.
Finally. I was starting to think you'd changed your mind, little grapes.
I typed back without hesitation.
Never.
第6章
The doctor asked if I needed anything else. I forced a smile, bitter and metallic on my lips. "Has anyone come to see me?"
"I'm sorry… no one has," she replied softly.
A chill settled into my chest then. Not the kind that makes your skin crawl, but the kind that sinks deep into your bones, leaving a hollow, frozen ache.
When she left, I stared at the blank wall for what felt like hours. Eventually, I shoved the blanket off me. Every movement sent jagged waves of pain through my body, but I ignored it.
"Mrs. Falcone?" a nurse called as she entered. "You shouldn't be up and moving. You lost a lot of blood. Your stitches—"
"I'm leaving," I said, voice flat, cutting her off. "I don't care that I'm still bleeding. I'm not staying another second."
She tried to reason with me, worry etched across her face. "You're not stable enough—"
"I said I'm leaving. Just bring me whatever I need to sign," I snapped.
She stared at me for a long moment, hesitating, then retreated. The private clinic was quiet. No guards posted outside my door. No flowers. No one from the Valenti Family had thought to send even a soldier to check whether the Boss's wife was still breathing. A few minutes later, she returned with the discharge papers.
Every step toward the door was agony. My legs trembled, my back screamed, but I forced myself forward.
Halfway down the hall, I saw them. Dante and Valentina, my twin sister, sitting side by side in another room. Laughing. Smiling. As if nothing had happened. As if my babies had never existed.
I turned away before they could notice me.
They had taken everything from me once. I wasn't letting them do it again.
This time, I had Lazaro. The man who concealed an empire behind a polite smile. The man whose name was spoken only in hushed tones, whose syndicate moved through the city's tunnels and docks like a second bloodstream. The man who could reduce the entire Valenti dynasty to ashes without lifting a finger.
I was done being their victim.
Dante was feeding Valentina soup, that fake gentle smile plastered on his face, the same smile he never bothered to give me. Valentina sat there, fragile-looking but smug, soaking in every bit of attention like she was the donna of the Family already.
Once, seeing them like this would have shattered me. Now, I felt nothing. I turned to slip past them, but, as usual, luck had other plans.
"Seraphina?" His voice cut through me. I stiffened, jaw tightening.
I turned slowly, face calm, hiding the storm inside. When our eyes met, I glimpsed a flicker in him. Guilt, maybe, like he suddenly remembered I even existed. His father's signet ring sat still on his pinky. Not spinning. He hadn't been worried enough to spin it.
"I didn't realize you were awake," he stammered, pushing himself upright from the chair beside Valentina. "How are you feeling?"
I didn't answer. My silence said everything I needed it to.
Dante's shoulders slumped. "Your sacrifice… it wasn't in vain," he murmured, eyes locking on mine as if trying to force me to believe him. "Valentina's fine. Her baby is healthy. You saved them both."
I laughed. Sharp, bitter, humorless. He flinched.
Valentina placed her hand gently on her flat stomach, her sweetness feigned. "Dante hasn't left me alone for a second. He's been so good to me."
I refused to stay and watch their sick charade. I turned to leave, but Dante sprang to his feet, reaching for me.
"Wait, Seraphina. Just wait."
I froze. Not because I wanted to, but because I knew how ridiculous it sounded to even consider listening.
"I'm throwing a gathering tonight," he blurted. "To celebrate your recovery and Valentina coming home safe. It's been… difficult. My father will be there. He really wants to see you."
I said nothing. Salvatore Falcone wanting to see me meant nothing good. The old Don's invitations were summons, and his interest in his daughter-in-law had never once been warm.
He stepped closer, softer now, as if sincerity could make a difference. "Let me drive you home. We're all going the same way."
"I'm not going home," I said flatly. "I'm going to my parents' vineyard."
Lazaro had promised to watch over it once I accepted his offer. It was the only piece of my parents left. Something Dante could never touch. Castellano land, Castellano soil, protected now by the one man the Valenti Family feared.
"The vineyard? Why?" Dante blinked, confused.
I tilted my head, keeping my expression icy. "I have business there. None of your concern."
Valentina's eyes brightened suddenly, her fake charm on full display. "Perfect timing. I was planning to visit too. After all, it is our parents' vineyard."
That caught me off guard. She had always acted like it didn't matter. The estate where we'd grown up, where our father had built his name before anyone in this city knew what the Castellano Family could become. She'd never once gone back after the funeral.
Dante nodded quickly. "Then we'll come with you."
I stared at him, surprised at how eagerly he agreed. The same man who once called the vineyard a waste, a burden, now jumped at the chance to go because Valentina mentioned it.
I allowed a quiet sneer. "Fine. You can come. But there's one thing I need from you first."
Dante straightened, hopeful. "Anything."
I reached into my bag and pulled out the papers I'd held since he brought Valentina home. Divorce papers. In this world, marriages between Families weren't dissolved by courts. They were dissolved by blood, by the Commission's decree, or by the signature of both parties on a severance pact witnessed under the old codes. I had the pact. I had been carrying it against my body like a concealed weapon.
He took them, brow furrowed. "What's this?"
"My discharge form," I said flatly, not meeting his gaze.
He hesitated. Always so careful when signing. In this life, a signature on the wrong document could sign away territory, soldiers, entire bloodlines. But he glanced at Valentina. She fluttered her lashes, smiled sweetly, and suddenly he forgot all caution.
"I'm tired, Dante," she purred. "Let's go home quickly."
He nodded, barely glancing at the papers before signing.
The moment his pen lifted, a small, victorious smirk spread across my lips. My fingers drifted to the hollow of my throat where my mother's pendant once hung. The skin was bare. The pendant was gone, buried with the body that bought my escape. But the absence steadied me, the way it always did.
"Thank you," I said, slipping the documents back into my bag. "Now I'm free from you."
第7章
He didn't even register the meaning behind my words. His attention was glued to Valentina, completely blind to what I had planned.
When we reached the car, Valentina immediately reached for the front passenger seat as if it were hers by right. But Dante gently grabbed her arm and held her back.
"Hold on, Valentina," he said softly, then turned to me with a tentative, hopeful smile. "Seraphina, maybe you should take the front seat."
"No way," Valentina pouted, stamping her foot lightly. "I get so dizzy sitting in the back. And lately, the baby's been making me feel awful, Dante."
I rolled my eyes, unimpressed.
Dante looked stuck between us, clearly trying to figure out how to keep us both satisfied. The armored SUV idled at the curb, engine low, the soldier behind the wheel staring straight ahead like a man who'd learned long ago not to witness anything.
"It's fine," I said coldly. "Let her sit up front." He opened his mouth to protest, but I cut him off. "I said it's fine. Let her have the seat. I don't care."
A tense silence fell. Valentina beamed triumphantly, and Dante frowned, but he didn't argue.
I slid into the backseat, every muscle aching, and leaned my head against the cold window, staring outside as if I weren't even there. The city slid past in gray blocks, storefronts with their gates half-drawn, a sedan trailing two cars back that could have been one of Dante's men or one of someone else's. In this world, you stopped wondering which.
After a few minutes, Valentina started her usual act, fishing for a reaction.
Her hand found Dante's thigh, fingers slowly tracing circles. I didn't turn to look, but out of the corner of my eye, I caught her smirk, smug and deliberate.
Dante stiffened immediately. "Valentina," he muttered under his breath, moving her hand away.
"What?" she said, feigning innocence.
When he said nothing more, she tried again, this time letting her fingers wander higher.
"I said stop!" Dante snapped, his voice sharp now.
She flinched, and tears welled up in her eyes. She turned her face away and began quietly sobbing into her hands.
"Why are you yelling at me?" she whimpered. "I'm carrying your child, Dante. And you're yelling at me?"
Dante ran a hand through his hair, his expression softening. "Sorry, alright? I didn't mean to yell. Just… not with her here."
He never said my name, never acknowledged I existed in the backseat.
Valentina sniffled and leaned forward to rummage through the glove box. "Just looking for tissues," she murmured.
What she pulled out was far from tissues: a small piece of bright red lace panties. She giggled, holding them up like a trophy.
"Oh, Dante," she said playfully. "Remember when we couldn't make it to the hotel? You just pulled me into your lap right here."
"That's enough," Dante said sharply, refusing to look at her.
"Oh, relax," she rolled her eyes. "Seraphina gets it. Hormones make you crazy. Lucky you're here to help."
Her hand slid back onto his thigh. This time, he didn't move it.
Dante glanced in the rearview mirror, and our eyes met for a brief instant. I looked away before he could catch the storm brewing behind mine.
Once, that same glance could melt me. I remembered the first time we met: a feast at our family estate, him a last-minute stand-in for a Capo who'd failed to show. Dark suit, broad shoulders, that half-smile that made my heart stumble. My father had watched him from the head of the table, measuring the young Valenti soldier with the quiet precision he measured everyone.
"Do you always stare at people like that?" he'd asked. I'd been too stunned to answer. That night, he walked me to my car and kissed me under the moonlight. Back then, he saw me.
For the first two years, he treated me like I was the only woman alive. Friday night dinners at the vineyard, glass always full, always asking if I'd eaten, sneaking away among the vines to laugh like teenagers. The union between our families was sealed by the Commission, but what lived between us had nothing to do with alliances.
Then Valentina returned.
She claimed to be studying architecture abroad, a term she loved to toss around to sound impressive. The truth? She'd never finished a degree. Hated studying. Changed courses like trying on clothes she'd never buy. Paris, Rome, Tokyo. She'd been everywhere except where she was supposed to be.
Her return brought chaos, subtle at first: little laughs at my expense, innocent touches on Dante's arm at Sunday dinners. And now, here we were, her hand on his thigh.
The man who swore no one would ever come between us was now sitting next to the only woman who ever had.
**
By the time I reached the vineyard, I didn't speak a word. I exited the car and walked past Dante and Valentina without looking back.
The wrought-iron gates loomed as they always had, familiar yet heavy with memory. My parents had bought this land in the early 1980s, transforming bare soil into sprawling rows of vines that fed generations. Long before the Castellano name carried weight at sit-downs, it carried weight on this soil. They were gone, leaving the vineyard as the only tangible piece of their lives I had left.
My chest tightened with memory, but I pushed it down. I had business to take care of.
Tomaso Ferrante, the estate manager, looked up from his ledger as I entered the main house. His eyes widened, then softened into a warm smile.
"Miss Seraphina," he said, rising quickly. "Welcome back."
"I need to speak with you," I said bluntly, cutting to the point.
We were wrapping things up when a sudden, terrified scream split the air.
My heart leapt into my throat. Something was wrong.
I bolted toward the door, Tomaso right behind me.
The moment I stepped outside, the acrid sting of smoke hit me like a fist.
Shouts rose from the west fields.
I ran forward and froze. Flames were consuming the vines, my parents' legacy, the lifeblood of their decades of work. My vision blurred, and my chest tightened as I watched fire devour everything my family had built.