Rejected by My Fiancé, Claimed by the True Mafia Heir

I stood against the door for a long, long time. My legs went numb before I finally managed to calm down.

Since I couldn't get out, I might as well start packing what was mine.

I threw every dress, every handbag Damiano had ever given me into the trash. Silk, cashmere, leather soft as skin. All of it purchased with laundered money and handed over like I should be grateful. Every piece went into the bin without ceremony.

It wasn't until I was done that I realized.

All I could actually take with me was an ID card and my personal documents. Nothing else. Five years in the Mancini compound, and the only things that were truly mine fit inside a single envelope.

Damiano didn't let me out until the following evening, for dinner.

He noticed the things in the trash. I saw him pause. His eyes moved over the pile of designer labels, and for one beat the muscle at his jaw tightened.

"What kind of tantrum is this?"

I just smiled faintly.

"They got old. I stopped liking them. So I tossed them."

That shut him up. He was quiet for a beat, and when he spoke again, it was in that tone of his, the one that made everything sound like charity:

"I'll buy you new ones in a couple days. Consider it an apology."

"Come eat. And be nice to Luciana. She's only staying a few days."

"Stop being jealous and picking fights with her."

He paused at the end, just slightly. His fingers moved to his watch strap, adjusted it, then let go.

"Burning those things... I may have gone too far."

"But people need to move forward. The directress has been gone a long time now."

I nodded. My voice was flat.

"Fine."

He'd gotten what should have been my forgiveness, but something about it made Damiano uneasy. He stood in the doorway of the dining room where two of his soldiers sat at a far table finishing their meals, and I could feel him watching me the way he watched men he wasn't sure of anymore.

I was standing right in front of him, yet he felt like I was already far away.

Tomorrow was the last day of my arrangement with the Valente Winslow. My plan was simple: wake up, go through with the surgery, and leave.

But in the dead of night, the bedroom door slammed open. Before I could even register what was happening, Damiano hauled me out of bed and dragged me down the hall to the room next door.

His grip was brutal, like he wanted to break me apart. The moment he let go, I slammed into the wall. Pain exploded across my back and my vision went black. Somewhere down the corridor a soldier shifted but did not come closer. No one intervened in the heir's private quarters. That was understood.

Before I could recover, his voice came down from above, raw with fury.

"Serafina, is this how badly you can't stand Luciana? You're so jealous you'd drug her?"

My ears rang. My vision swam, then slowly focused.

On the bed, Luciana's cheeks were flushed, her clothes disheveled. She was practically draped over Damiano, whimpering and pressing herself into his arms.

"It wasn't me."

My voice was hoarse, but I forced the words out. "I didn't do anything like that."

The moment I finished speaking, Luciana flinched as though she'd been struck. The tears came instantly.

"Serafina... the only thing I ate tonight was the dessert you had Ruggiero bring me. I didn't touch anything else..."

"I had someone bring you dessert?" I stared at her, my expression ice cold.

"You burned the directress's keepsakes, and you think I'd send you a treat? Luciana, do you really think that highly of yourself?"

My voice dropped lower, shaking with barely contained rage. "And what would I even gain from drugging you? If you're going to frame someone, at least come up with a believable story."

"Enough with the excuses."

Damiano cut in, irritation thick in his voice. He stood over me, the full weight of his authority pressing down like something physical.

"Ruggiero already admitted you told her to do it."

"Witness and evidence, both accounted for. How am I supposed to believe you?"

The cold seeped into my chest, inch by inch. I hadn't imagined that in Damiano's mind, I was someone capable of this.

"What witness? What evidence?"

I bit down hard on my lip, the words grinding out between my teeth.

"This compound has security cameras everywhere. If you really think I did it, then check the footage. One look and you'll know the truth."

I held his gaze, stubborn, refusing to bend. Somewhere behind the walls I could hear the low hum of the surveillance system he'd installed himself, the one that watched every corridor and gate of the Mancini estate.

I would not confess to something I didn't do.

Damiano hesitated. Just for a second.

But then Luciana let out a soft, shuddering gasp and clung to him tighter, her voice trembling and paper-thin. Her fingers rose to the pearls at her throat, touched them once, then fell away.

"Damiano, it hurts so much... please help me, please..."

Her collar had slipped. Pale skin spilled into view.

Damiano's hand froze. Instinct told him to push her away.

But Luciana ducked her head and sank her teeth into her own arm without a moment's hesitation. Hard.

Blood welled up instantly.

Bright red, streaming down her skin. Impossible to look away from.

"I know you only see me as a little sister, Damiano. I know this whole marriage these past few days was just an act. It's my fault for letting myself get lost in how sweet it felt, for letting myself imagine you might care about me, even a little..."

Her voice shook. The tears fell harder.

"I'll handle it myself. Don't worry about me. I don't want to be a burden to either of you anymore..."

Damiano's expression changed completely. He grabbed her arm to stop her from biting down again, pulling her into his arms to hold her still. When he spoke, his voice was rough and strained.

"Stop hurting yourself. I'll help you."