The Day My Husband Didn’t Answer Ended Me

"Oh my god! Poison?"

"Maybe something to cause a miscarriage!"

"She hates Serafina and everyone knows that!"

"She's jealous!"

"She's sick!"

I stared at Serafina, speechless, because she looked so damn believable.

"That's not true," I said quietly. "I didn't touch her—"

Before I could finish, Nico grabbed my arm and shoved me so hard I fell onto the floor, my knees slamming into the marble tiles. The sound cracked through the dining hall of the Valente compound like a gunshot, and every conversation stopped.

"You think this is fucking funny?!" he roared. "If anything happens to her or my kids, I swear your life will be the price!"

I didn't even try to stand. I just sat there on the cold marble, feeling the last piece of me crumble.

The murmurs around us were venom. Wives of capos, associates, soldiers' girlfriends in cocktail dresses. Every one of them knew whose house this was, whose word was law within these walls, and whose side to take.

"That's her? She's disgusting."

"She wants Serafina dead because she can't have kids anymore."

"Jealous women are dangerous."

"She's evil."

Donna Valente adjusted the pearl rosary on her left wrist, a single deliberate rotation of the beads, and the room stilled even further.

"Nico, take Serafina to the clinic. NOW. We don't know what this woman did."

Nico didn't hesitate. He scooped Serafina into his arms and ran toward the exit while she whimpered and held onto him like her life depended on it. The moment they disappeared through the compound's front door, soldiers falling in behind them, the guests turned on me like a pack of wolves.

Someone threw a glass. It shattered near my leg.

"That's for hurting your pregnant sister!"

A splash of wine hit my face.

"That's for being jealous!"

A plate of food slammed into my shoulder.

"You monster!"

Someone actually threw a sandal that hit my face and it bled.

"You don't deserve to breathe the same air as her!"

I didn't shield myself. I didn't scream. I didn't defend anything.

I just sat there, letting them hit me, throw things at me, spit their words like poison. Because for the first time…

I finally accepted it.

…

The night finally died down, the compound dark and silent, but my ears were still ringing with every insult, every broken plate, every splash of wine against my skin.

I locked myself inside the upstairs bathroom and leaned over the sink. The mirror showed a woman I barely recognized — hair tangled, cheeks streaked with dried tears, and a thin line of blood dripping from where the sandal hit my forehead.

I pressed a towel to it, but the bleeding didn't stop right away.

"Happy anniversary, Nico," I whispered at my broken reflection. "You finally destroyed everything… and somehow, you set me free."

My phone buzzed on the counter.

I didn't want to answer it but when I saw the name, my heart stopped.

Dominic.

I picked up with a trembling thumb. "Hello…?"

"I'll be there tomorrow night. You're leaving that house. And tell me… Is the dissolution done?"

My throat tightened. I stared at myself in the mirror… at the bruises forming, at the dead look in my eyes.

"Yes," I whispered. "It's done."

"Good. I want our union settled the moment I arrive. I don't wait, Bianca."

The line went dead. His voice had been low, controlled, carrying the weight of a man who gave orders that moved entire families. Not a question in it. Not a single syllable that left room for negotiation.

I stared at my reflection again. At the bruises.

The cut… The emptiness.

…

The next morning.

I woke up to heavy footsteps pounding outside my room. Before I could even sit up, the door slammed open. Nico stormed in, flanked by two enforcers, his face cold as ice. His right fist clenched and unclenched at his side.

"Grab her," he barked.

"Wait — Nico, what are you doing?!" My voice cracked, panic clawing at me.

He didn't answer. The soldiers were on me in seconds, yanking me off the bed. I screamed, tried to fight, begged him, but he just stood there, unmoved.

"Stop! She's faking!" I yelled.

"Silence," he said flatly. "You've put my babies in danger. That's enough."

I realized in a sickening moment what he meant — Serafina, his precious twins, were somehow "at risk," and I was the villain. I didn't even touch them, didn't even step near Serafina's drinks last night but it didn't matter. In Nico's eyes, I was the threat.

The soldiers threw me into the back of a black SUV, my limbs banging against the cold leather seats. Rain streaked the windows as the car roared through streets that cut across Valente territory.

"Serafina… it's all fake!" I screamed, my voice raw. "She's faking! She's fine! You're being cruel!"

Nico didn't even glance at me. He sat rigid, hands clenched on the wheel. "Shut up. You're coming with me. Now."

At the private clinic, the scene was already set. Nurses stepped back, eyes wide, as Nico's voice boomed through the sterile corridor. Even here, on the family's payroll, his authority was absolute.

"Draw her blood. NOW. Serafina's twins are in danger. She's the reason."

"Mr. Valente! She's barely stable—"

"I don't care! Do it!" Nico snapped.

"I can't! If we take more, she could collapse—"

"DO IT!" he shouted, deaf to reason.

My body shook violently as the nurse restrained me, straps digging into my wrists and arms. I clawed at them, thrashing, screaming, every word guttural.

"No! Stop! Serafina, you're faking this! It's all lies! She's fine!"

But Nico didn't listen. He stood back, arms crossed, watching me as if I were nothing. His jaw was tight, his eyes hard, his voice sharp when he barked at the doctors.

"Take her blood. She's the reason my babies might be hurt."

I screamed louder, struggling against the straps, my lungs burning.

"Silence, monster," Donna Valente's voice cut through behind me, mocking. "Look at you. The woman who killed her own child. Do you think your jealousy will ever end? My Nico is smart to keep you tied down. You'll never touch my grandchildren."

I froze, my chest tightening as the nurses forced the needle into my arm. Cold metal, sharp pain, the red creeping into the transparent bag — it was stealing pieces of me. Every gasp, every twitch, every drop of blood was another part of my life leaving.

Serafina, or at least the twins she carried, were safe but only because I suffered. And Nico… he held her hand, stroked her hair, murmuring soft comforts that should have been mine once.

"I'm sorry, Nico… this is all my fault," Serafina cried. "It's not your fault, Bianca is just being dramatic as always," Nico said coldly.

I shook violently, whispering through the tears and the pain: "Nico… please… make it stop…"

He didn't turn. He didn't care. The last thing I saw before the darkness swallowed me was Donna Valente smirking from the corner, the pearl rosary motionless on her wrist, nodding toward Nico, as if she had orchestrated my torment all along.

And then I let go.