Chapter 6

Seraphina POV:

Alessandro insisted I attend the annual De Luca family dinner. It wasn't a request; it was a command, delivered through his consigliere. I was to be the dutiful wife, the perfect statue placed beside him to project an image of unbreakable unity. An illusion.

Sitting at the long, polished table in Donato's grand estate, surrounded by the scent of expensive perfume and simmering ambition, I realized I had always been an outsider. A Vitali girl brought in for a purpose I had failed to fulfill. All my sacrifices, my years of silent obedience, were just a footnote in Alessandro's lie of power.

Then she walked in.

Aria didn't arrive on Alessandro's arm. He was too much of a coward for that. She was escorted by one of his youngest Capos, a man whose loyalty was still being tested. Her presence was a blatant display of Alessandro's recklessness, a lit match in a room full of gasoline.

Don Donato, from his seat at the head of the table, looked down the long expanse of mahogany. His eyes, old and sharp, landed on Aria.

"Welcome," the Don's voice rumbled, carrying a weight that silenced the room. "The vessel for our family's future."

He had just put Alessandro's affair on full display for the entire organization. It wasn't an endorsement; it was a test. A public shaming.

Alessandro's face tightened. He leaned toward me, his voice a low, desperate whisper. "She's just a tool, Sera. Nothing more." He was trying to reassure me, but in doing so, he publicly humiliated Aria, who overheard and flinched as if struck.

He was losing control of everyone.

At that moment, Aria placed a hand on her stomach, a small, triumphant smile playing on her lips. She caught Alessandro's eye, and her voice, though soft, carried across the suddenly silent table.

"I'm carrying twins."

The room erupted. A collective gasp, then a wave of excited murmurs. I looked at Alessandro. The shock on his face melted away, replaced by a look of raw, triumphant joy. He had done it. He had secured his legacy. He was safe.

In the midst of the celebration, I rose from my chair. My movement was slow, deliberate. The noise quieted as all eyes turned to me.

My voice, when I spoke, was not loud, but it cut through the air like a shard of ice.

"Alessandro and I will be formally separating."

The joy on Alessandro's face evaporated, replaced by sheer panic. He started to move toward me, his hand outstretched, but Aria, ever the actress, chose that exact moment to let out a soft gasp. She swayed, her hand flying to her forehead in a perfect imitation of a dizzy spell.

"Alex," she whispered, her voice weak.

He stopped. He looked from my cold, resolute face to her wilting, theatrical one.

And once again, he made his choice.

He rushed to Aria's side, pulling her into a protective embrace, his back to me.

I watched him go. And I knew. The end was here.