The year my boyfriend was framed by a rival family and fled to Porto Nero, I followed without looking back. I lived with him in a three-hundred-dollar basement, lost two children working back-to-back shifts day and night. When I took a knife for him and nearly lost my life, Dante Morano’s tears were scalding. I gently wiped them away, with only one request. “When you rise again, will you come to my family and ask for my hand?” He promised. Over six years, Dante rebuilt his strength and took down every rival family. He rose to become the undisputed boss of Porto Nero’s waterfront operations. And I, for the eighty-ninth time, begged his right-hand man to get a message through. “Are we still getting married?” He was busy rotating through one sit-down and back-room meeting after another, and gave the same answer: “Just wait a little longer.” I said fine. I wouldn’t distract him anymore. Until the day I stepped out and ran into a couple of local reporters who’d been sniffing around the family. They barely glanced at me before bolting in another direction. “That woman’s a fraud—the real Mrs. Morano just checked into the OB-GYN clinic.” Stunned, I followed them. Outside the private hospital that charged a hundred thousand a night, Dante had his arm around my foster sister, her belly slightly swollen. Behind them stood my parents, whom I hadn’t seen in six years, and my best friend. Looking at those familiar faces one by one— I felt nothing but distance. So he had gone to my family to propose after all. Just not for me. Fine. I’d grown sick of the wind off the docks anyway. …… The camera flashes were blinding. The crowd shoved me to the outer edge. I accidentally hit a metal railing, and the old wound at my waist ached deep in the bone. My best friend, Camille, was the first to spot me. Her voice caught. “Vivian—why are you… here?” Just last week she’d been on the phone with me, pitying my six years of waiting. Hearing the commotion, Dante turned and saw me in the distance. Panic flashed across his face. “Vivian, don’t misunderstand—I’ll explain everything when we get home!” He said this, but the hand resting on Sienna’s waist didn’t loosen one bit. And my own parents, whom I hadn’t seen in years, opened their mouths several times before finally saying: “Vivian, Sienna is pregnant. Don’t make a scene.” But when I’d had my miscarriage, they couldn’t even be bothered to make the trip to Porto Nero. Silence filled my ears. My name had been called three times, but not a single person actually cared about me. My knuckles turned white from clenching. Then, suddenly, I smiled. “There’s a happy occasion in the family—how come nobody told me?” It was Sienna who answered. “The first three months the baby isn’t stable. We had to keep it secret.” “But sister, you’ve been pregnant twice yourself. You should have more experience than me.” Around her neck hung the Cuore Rosso—a legendary ruby worth a hundred million. Dante had won it at a charity auction on the Amalfi Coast. I’d seen it on the news and assumed it was meant for me. Dante murmured from beside her, “That’s enough. Stop.” Those two children—lost on the road while I was working extra jobs to expand Dante’s network and buy gifts for his associates. They were twins. I still remember the wind off the harbor that December. Bitterly cold. I pressed my hand against my empty belly, and my heart felt like it had a gaping hole, cold wind howling through. Before me, I looked at the five people across the street. One road between us, yet it felt as vast as a galaxy. “Dante Morano, can you look me in the eye and say you’ve done right by me?” The moment I finished, my parents were the first to scold me. “How dare you speak to Dante that way! He’s taken care of our family all these years—how has he wronged you?” Even my best friend Camille frowned. “Vivian, that was uncalled for.” “You’ve been frail all these years, oversensitive and paranoid. Dante is a normal man—he gets tired too!” Only Dante flinched, singed by the grief in my eyes. He moved to come closer. But Sienna let out a soft gasp, and his feet stopped. “Vivian, people are watching. Making a scene would be ugly.” Dante said I looked ugly like this. But was what he’d done behind my back any prettier? Sienna nestled into his arms, whispering softly. “Sister, please don’t make things difficult for Dante.” “It wasn’t easy for him to claw his way back to this position. Surely you don’t want him to suffer alongside you again?” My chest ached so badly I could taste blood at the back of my throat. “Fine. I won’t make things difficult for any of you.” But as I turned to leave, Dante ordered his bodyguards to restrain me. He rubbed his temples, as though I were being impossibly childish. “Take her back to the villa. She doesn’t leave without my permission.” As I was shoved into the car, Sienna flashed me a triumphant smile. A smile that said: you’ve lost everything. Back at the villa, I locked myself in my room. The housekeeper knocked again and again, pleading with me to come out and eat. I stared at the things scattered across the floor. The photographs—every memory Dante and I had shared over the years. The receipts—monthly expense statements I’d faithfully sent home. The matching friendship bracelet—a token of the sisterhood Camille and I once shared. After I burned the last one, my tears had dried too. Finally, I dialed a number. “Six years ago you asked me to marry you. Does the offer still stand?” Silence for a few seconds, then a restrained but unmistakably elated male voice. “Three days. I’ll come for you.”
After all that, I opened the locked door. Sat quietly at the dining table. “Lombardi, would you make me a bowl of soup?” The housekeeper happily walked into the kitchen and made a call. “Mr. Morano, Miss Thornton is out and eating.” Looking up, I saw the pile of gift boxes his man had dropped off in the living room. This was always how Dante tried to placate me—it required no thought and no effort. In the Instagram, Sienna posted a video. “Dante is so wonderful—he pushed back work to stay home and help me knit baby clothes. He’s going to be such a good father.” In the video, he was bent over, carefully stitching a small piece of fabric. His profile gentle, his gaze focused. My eyes burned watching it. I suddenly remembered those days when we were on the run, hiding from one safe house to the next. Dante couldn’t afford anything nice. So he’d braided me a cord bracelet by hand. It was crooked and rough, but I wore it like a treasure for six years. Later he got busier, and richer again. But the companionship—he gave that to someone else. A new comment popped up under that Instagram video. My parents and Camille. “My little grandchild is so blessed to have such loving parents.” “Sienna, I can’t wait to be the godmother! I’ll keep Dante in line for you!” I pulled out the cord bracelet I still carried. The color had long since faded. Time to throw it away. The bodyguards outside the villa kept tight watch, convinced I’d tear the place apart. But I went to the garden as usual to water the flowers. The orchids were delicate—I’d been growing them for half a year. They were about to bloom. I wouldn’t be here to see it. So I had them boxed up and sent to the neighbors in three days. In my messages, Dr. Ferrara, who managed my old injury, reminded me about next week’s appointment. I declined the six-year routine follow-up and withdrew the remaining funds from my medical account. Because there was no point anymore. At the same time, a truck arrived. Furniture was carried in piece by piece. “Be careful—these were all personally selected by Mr. Morano for Miss Thornton. Very expensive!” A maternity mattress, a Baroque vanity, designer lounge chairs. And this villa—I’d only lived here two years. Dante once told me this would be our home for the rest of our lives. Now this home was no longer a home. Sienna walked in, my parents on either side of her, Camille close behind. “Sister, you don’t mind me moving in, do you?” My parents soothed her. “Mind what? You two sisters used to share a room all the time.” We did share a room once. But then they made me move into the storage closet. Because Sienna had a sweeter tongue and a more fragile air. Camille walked right past me and poured Sienna a glass of water. “Sienna, don’t bother with petty people. Think of the baby.” I didn’t say a word. But then—my parents leaned in and whispered: “If you could move out, that would help. Don’t disturb Sienna’s rest. Seeing you puts her in a bad mood.” I stared at my own flesh and blood standing before me, incredulous. “In your eyes, who exactly is the real daughter?” They kept their voices down, terrified Sienna might hear. “Sienna has been with our family so many years, she’s as good as our own. You’ve always been the strong one—what’s wrong with letting her have this?” I could never understand my parents’ favoritism. But today, I suddenly no longer cared to. Camille chimed in: “Sienna’s love for Dante is no less than yours. Six years and nothing to show for it—why not step aside gracefully?” She seemed to have forgotten who stood up for her and fought back against the bullies. Who spent their savings funding her education all those years. A whole heart, fed to the dogs. After saying their piece, the three of them went to help Sienna settle her room. Dante came back soon after. The moment he walked in, he cupped my bare, sockless feet. “Vivian, give me some time. I’ll sort everything out.” His arms were warm—but they’d already held another woman. On his tanned forearm were crescent-shaped nail marks from Sienna. “Sort it out how? Make me the other woman? Watch your happy family from the sidelines?” “Vivian!” Dante’s face hardened. “Do you have any idea who Sienna really is? She’s been claimed by the Constantino family—she can give me enormous leverage!” So that was it. The Constantinos were Porto Nero’s most powerful family. Four generations of empire. “These years I’ve been building my position step by step. Nobody knows what it’s cost me.” But Dante—these six years have cost me too. In the end, I simply couldn’t compete with Sienna’s noble bloodline. Dante softened his voice again. “I haven’t forgotten the promise I made six years ago. I will marry you.” “No need. I’m moving out.”
When I said those words, I thought Dante would at least try to stop me. But he only pressed his lips into a thin line. “Once Sienna’s condition stabilizes, I’ll bring you back.” He thought I was throwing a tantrum. Thought I was competing for attention. I ignored his last sentence entirely. Under the white light, my face was pale. “Before I go—give me back the card I gave you.” When I’d followed him to Porto Nero six years ago, I’d sold everything I owned and walked away from a promising career. One card. Seven hundred and fifty thousand. It was everything I had. And now it was my resolve to sever this relationship for good. All warmth drained from Dante’s eyes. His voice turned cold. “Vivian Thornton, I’ve never shortchanged you. You know what asking for that card means.” Past betrayals had made Dante deeply suspicious. He could spend millions on me without blinking. But if I asked for it—that carried a different meaning entirely. Back in those basement days, Dante would hold me and ask the same question over and over. “Vivian, will you ever be like the others—choose money over me?” “Never. Not in this lifetime.” Now, my smile was exactly the same as back then. “One knife scar. Two children.” “Dante Morano, my youth wasn’t cheap either.” The rainy season had arrived, and my old wound ached terribly. The words had barely settled when Sienna appeared from nowhere. “You really love money that much? I truly feel sorry for Dante!” She gently took Dante’s hand, tenderly smoothing the crease between his brows. My parents slapped me across the face and pointed at my nose: “Vivian Thornton, how did we raise such an ungrateful wretch? Begging for money without a shred of shame!” Camille jumped in too: “I really misjudged you. I thought you were just foolish—turns out you’re vicious. Ask yourself what Dante has done for you!” In the end, Dante threw the bank card on the floor. “Take it and get out. This house has nothing to do with you anymore.” I picked it up without looking at any of them. Because they weren’t worth it. The wind in Porto Nero blew hard at night. Dante wouldn’t let the driver take me. Years of neglect had wrecked my health—problems everywhere. He used to never let me go out alone. Even a scraped knee would distress him. Halfway down the hillside road, the rain began to pour. Icy, wild raindrops lashed my face. I clutched that bank card until its edge cut my palm and blood ran. Before I blacked out, a message came through: “Two more days. Wait for me.” When I woke, I was lying in a house in the outskirts. Mrs. Lombardi changed the towel on my forehead and whispered: “Miss Thornton, Mr. Morano does care about you. Please take care of yourself.” For six years, there had always been people acting as Dante’s advocates. I used to listen. But now I only wanted to leave. My fingertip hovered over the screen. Below that text were a few more messages. “The weather in Ashford has been lovely. You’ll like it.” “Eat well, Vivian.” Inexplicably, something warm stirred in my battered heart. I remembered there was one last thing I hadn’t finished. When I arrived at the orphanage, I was stopped at the gate. “Miss Thornton, we no longer need your sponsorship.” The card I’d demanded back from Dante the night before had been snapped in two. My voice was dry. “Director, what do you mean?” Inside, the children who’d once received my donations kept their distance, wary and hostile. A stack of newspapers was thrown in my face. I unfolded them with trembling hands. “‘Morano Boss Weds Constantino Heiress in Alliance of the Century—Other Woman Cast Out in Disgrace.” The cover showed my rain-soaked, wretched silhouette leaving the night before. Beside it, a spread of Dante and Sienna’s newly shot engagement photos. Picture-perfect bliss. “Our orphanage doesn’t accept dirty money. Please leave.” People came and went, casting countless looks of contempt. I stood in the sun, my vision going black, drenched in cold sweat. Someone’s shoulder knocked into mine, and I fell unguarded to the ground. Sienna’s beaming face appeared above me. “Sister, I’ll be sponsoring this orphanage from now on. Consider it good karma for the baby.” Behind her, the director ushered her in with utmost courtesy. Dante’s tone was stiff. “The papers were to let Sienna save face. The Constantinos wouldn’t agree otherwise.” “Go home. It’s windy here.” I looked at his familiar brow and eyes, and suddenly remembered lying in the hospital. Dante too afraid to close his eyes all night. “Vivian, I swear no one will ever hurt you again.” Now the person hurting me was him. I laughed and laughed until the tears fell. Sienna laced her fingers through his, staking her claim. “Sister, tomorrow is our engagement banquet. Will you come?”
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