Chapter 2

Not long after Dante left, the roar of an engine shattered the quiet of the estate.

I was standing in the front garden, watching a red Ferrari blow past the speed limit signs on the perimeter and brake beside the fountain.

Camila stepped out on stiletto heels.

The guards immediately stepped forward, blocking her at the bottom of the steps, but I waved a hand, signaling them to stand down.

Camila swayed her hips as she closed the distance between us.

The moment our eyes met, what stung mine wasn't her youthful, seductive face, but the sapphire necklace resting against her collarbone.

I instinctively clutched the fabric of my coat, because resting against my skin was the exact same piece of jewelry.

Dante had fastened it around my neck himself just last week.

He had kissed me, gazing at me with deep devotion as he claimed this antique necklace, the "Tear of the Deep," was one of a kind—and that only his wife was worthy of wearing it.

One of a kind. How laughable.

He casually duplicated his "unique" devotion, turning around to bestow the exact same affection and precious gift upon another woman as a reward.

Camila took a step closer, her venomous gaze dropping to my flat stomach.

She lowered her voice. "Stop clinging to a seat that isn't yours, Sera. When he was holding our son last night, he said your miscarried baby was just an underdeveloped accident anyway. Your body is fundamentally incapable of giving birth to a Mafia heir."

A bone-deep chill washed over me, and the metallic taste of blood rose in the back of my throat.

Yet, holding onto the last shred of my pride, I met her gaze with calm. "An heir?"

I forced a mocking smirk, looking at her as if she were a pathetic clown. "You'd better get one thing straight. As long as I reside in this estate, whatever you gave birth to will only ever be a bastard."

"If you're done showing off, get the hell out of my estate."

Without waiting to see her face contort in ugly fury, I spun around and walked straight back toward the main house.

I had to leave to salvage my violently fracturing sanity.

If I stayed even a second longer, I feared I would lose control, breaking down like a madwoman and exposing my most humiliating vulnerability for everyone to see.

By the time I reached the second floor, standing alone on the balcony and gripping the railing tightly to steady my breath, the sudden roar of another engine tore through the gates.

I cast my eyes downward, just in time to see Dante's black Maybach speeding back, slamming on the brakes right beside the Ferrari.

Before the engine even cut off, the door was violently thrown open. Dante stormed toward Camila, his face dark with fury, and grabbed her roughly by the wrist.

Completely oblivious to my presence on the balcony above, he radiated savage hostility as he roared at her, "What the fuck are you doing here?! What the hell did you say to her?!"

"You're hurting me..." Camila's eyes instantly welled with tears. "I didn't say anything! The guards stopped me, I didn't even make it up the steps... Dante, I just wanted to see you. You're hurting me!"

Dante clearly had no patience for a scene at the gates of the estate. Ignoring her struggles, he spun her around and dragged her toward the passenger side of his car.

In the exact moment Camila was being half-dragged, half-shoved toward the car door, she tilted her head. Her gaze bypassed Dante and locked perfectly onto me on the balcony.

The pitiful, terrified expression on her face vanished in a flash, replaced by an undisguised, provocative, and mocking smile.

Dante focused on shoving Camila into the passenger seat before sliding behind the wheel himself.

The car peeled away, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake.

With trembling fingers, I opened a hidden app on my phone.

Ever since I discovered that voice recording, I had taken advantage of Dante's trust to plant a micro-bug in his car.

The second I tapped into the live feed, the sound of their breathing filled my earpiece with sickening clarity.

"I warned you not to come to the estate and provoke her! Her body just went through trauma. What kind of bullshit did you spout to her?!" Dante's voice was clipped, laced with suppressed rage.

"How would I dare provoke her? I was stopped by the guards. I didn't say a word... Dante, do I not even have the right to look at this estate from a distance?" Camila complained, her voice thick with tears.

"Last night, you promised to stay with us, but the moment you heard she didn't have an appetite for dinner, you wouldn't even hold your son for another second. You rushed right back to the estate to coax her... I just wanted to see you..."

After a brief, dead silence, I heard Dante let out a heavy, helpless sigh.

What followed was the sound of harsh, mingling breaths, the slick, intimate sounds of kissing, and the woman's syrupy, breathy moans.

"Not here... you're ruining my lipstick..." Camila whispered softly, panting in suppressed pleasure.

The man's voice was husky, heavy with dark lust and an out-of-control surrender.

I hit the pause button.

My chest felt as though it had been stuffed with crushed glass; an indescribable, agonizing ache spread through my organs with every gasping breath I took.

The back of my eyes burned fiercely, yet, tragically, I couldn't shed a single tear.

The husband who, just a second ago, was burning with anxiety for me and furiously interrogating his mistress, could, in the very next second, seamlessly fall into passionate intimacy with that same woman.

The phone screen lit up on the floor. A new message came in.

Sender: Dante.

[Baby, a tricky situation just came up. I won't be able to make it for dinner tonight. Wait for me to get home. Love you.]