Silent Sacrifice

Born beneath Pluto’s ill omen, I was marked a blood curse for the Constantine mafia clan, my twin Cataleya blessed with a fortune chart my parents clung to blindly.

They starved me of warmth, forced me to bear every blade, bullet and crime in her stead, and my husband Rafael, whom I once loved with all I had, sacrificed me without hesitation to soothe her feigned sickness.

I was locked in an underground dungeon lab to serve as her live drug test subject, tormented day and night by lethal experimental serum.

When I finally died alone on that cold steel table, my family brushed off my passing as a childish tantrum—until panicked enforcers crashed in, screaming the Russo mafia family was storming the manor to wipe us out.

Only in ruin did they see the truth: they’d guarded catastrophe, and buried their salvation alive.

On the top-floor VIP exam room of NewYork-Presbyterian Hospital, the elderly physician pushed up his gold-rimmed wire glasses, his gaze heavy with pity as he looked at me.

“Ms. Constantine, it pains me to say this, but your pancreatic cancer has reached its late stage and metastasized to your liver and bones. You’ve got at most three months left. You need immediate hospitalization—we might still be able to—”

“Thank you, Doctor.” I cut him off evenly, folding the thin diagnosis slip neatly and tucking it into the inner pocket of my trench coat.

Stepping outside the hospital, New York’s murky gray sky mirrored the last two decades of my life perfectly. Chilly wind stung my cheeks, mixed with icy early winter drizzle.

When I learned I was dying, I felt nothing but utter calm. No tears, no breakdowns, not even a flicker of fear. I simply folded that thin piece of paper and slipped it into my coat pocket without a second thought.

Back at the Constantine estate, the grand hall blazed with harsh lamplight, thick with suffocating tension hanging in the air.

My father, Vincenzo Constantine—the mafia don who pulled all the strings in New York’s underground world—paced restlessly before the fireplace.

My mother Eleonora sat on the sofa, muffling quiet sobs behind a silk handkerchief. My husband Rafael stood by with a glass of whiskey in hand, his brows knitted tight, eyes fixed rigidly on Cataleya’s bedroom door upstairs.

No one noticed me trudge in, soaked to the bone, until the cold gust I dragged in made the fire in the hearth flicker wildly.

“Where the hell have you been?” My father spun around, his hawk-sharp eyes blazing with rage. “Cataleya collapsed earlier and coughed up blood nonstop. Our family medic says she’s contracted an extremely rare blood toxin! How dare you vanish when she needs someone by her side at a time like this?”

Once, I would’ve defended myself. I would’ve told him I’d just left another hospital, that every breath felt like swallowing shards of glass with how much pain I was in. But not anymore. I held my tongue, staring back at him as if he were a total stranger.

“Isolde, how can you be so heartless toward your younger sister?” My mother lifted her head, her eyes puffy and red with accusation. “She’s the lucky star of this family! Ever since your sister was born, not a single one of our family's deals has gone wrong. When you two turned ten, the astrologer said her chart holds all the fortune that keeps our family afloat—while you carry a malevolent bane. If Cataleya’s good luck wasn’t constantly counteracting your bad karma, you’d have died years ago!”

I’d heard this lecture a hundred times over. Ever since we were ten, that ridiculous astrological nonsense had been a noose wrapped tight around my neck.

Rafael set down his whiskey glass and strode over to me. “The medic says the toxin poisoning Cataleya can only be neutralized by an untested underground experimental serum. But the side effects are brutal—direct administration could shut down all your organs.”

His voice dropped low, sharp with unnegotiable authority. “You two are identical twins, matching perfectly in blood type and genetic makeup. We’ve already set up a lab in the basement. You’re the perfect test subject to work out safe dosage levels before we give it to her.”

I lifted my eyes to meet the gaze of the man I’d once loved more than anything. When we were fifteen, I’d taken a bullet meant for Cataleya, and he’d pulled me out of a pool of my own blood. Back then I’d thought he’d saved me. Now I realized he’d only been worried about losing his best human shield for his Cataleya.

“You’re asking me to be your lab rat?” I whispered, my voice thin and worn from exhaustion.

“This is what you owe her,” my father cut me off coldly. “This family gave you your life. It should be an honor to offer your cursed body up to test the serum for Cataleya.”

“And if you refuse?” Rafael stepped closer, his stare icy enough to freeze water. “I’ll file for an immediate formal divorce with the family elders. Father will also—”

Threatening divorce again. This trick had worked every single time before. Over ninety-nine separate threats, I’d broken down crying, begged him not to leave me, and agreed to any outrageous demand just to stay by his side.

But now I carried a death sentence tucked in my pocket. If I was going to die soon, what did I care about losing status or being cast aside?

“I’ll do it,” I interrupted him flatly.

The hall fell dead silent. None of them expected me to agree so easily, no fight, no tears.

Rafael’s brows drew together, clearly annoyed I hadn’t thrown the hysterical fit they’d grown used to. “Don’t even think about pulling any stunts.”

“At least you’re finally seeing sense,” Father huffed, snapping his fingers to summon two bodyguards. “Take her down to the basement lab. No one lets her step foot outside until we’ve finalized the serum formula.”

I didn’t struggle, didn’t spare a single glance back at any of them. I followed the bodyguards quietly toward the hidden door leading down to the basement. For the first time in my life, a strange lightness washed over me—the quiet peace that comes when you’ve let go of every last shred of hope.

Once, I’d spent years scrambling to prove myself, desperate to show them I wasn’t a bad omen, that I could protect this family too.

Now, none of that mattered anymore.