The Wife He Left for Dead

At four in the morning, a sharp pain dragged me from a light sleep.

The wound in my shoulder burned like fire, every breath tearing at the muscle. I curled up on the single bed in the guest room, my pillow soaked with cold sweat. My body was weak from blood loss, and old wounds ached in sympathy.

I fumbled for the intercom on the nightstand and dialed the family doctor.

"Dr. Martinez? It's Isabella... Yes, I need you to come over. Now."

"My God, Isabella! You sound terrible. What happened?"

"Stab wound. Wasn't cleaned properly. I think it's infected."

"I'm on my way."

After hanging up, I struggled to my feet to get a glass of water. From the hallway, I heard hurried footsteps and Dante's anxious voice.

"When can Dr. Romano get here? I don't care where you have to pull him from, just get him here now!"

I pushed open the guest room door. Dante was on the phone, and Seraphina was sitting on the living room couch, pale, with one hand on her forehead.

"Dante..." she called out weakly. "I feel dizzy, and my chest feels... tight."

"Don't worry, baby," Dante hung up instantly and rushed to her side. "The best heart specialist in New York is on his way. And a neurologist. I had him cancel all his surgeries for today."

He gently lifted Seraphina, letting her lean against his chest. "The shock from last night probably got to her. We need to get you checked out, make sure you're okay."

I leaned against the wall, shuffling toward the kitchen. The pull on my wound made a soft groan escape my lips.

"Isabella?" Dante turned his head. "What's wrong with you? You're walking funny."

"Old injury acting up," I said simply. "Dr. Martinez is on his way."

"Dr. Martinez?" Dante frowned. "You called the family doctor? Isabella, the entire medical team is on standby for Seraphina. You can't be so selfish."

I stopped and looked at him. "Selfish?"

"Yes," Dante said, his tone thick with blame. "Seraphina almost died. She needs the best care possible. You probably just pulled something. It can wait."

In his arms, Seraphina coughed softly, her eyes on me, full of pity. "Isabella, I can wait if you need... I don't want to take up..."

"No," Dante cut her off, his voice firm. "Your health comes first. Isabella, you'll wait until Dr. Romano is done with Seraphina."

I stared at the man who once swore to protect me for life, now demanding I step aside for another woman.

The doorbell rang. Dr. Romano and his team had arrived.

For the next two hours, the apartment became Seraphina's private hospital wing. ECGs, MRIs, blood tests—they brought in everything.

Meanwhile, my doctor, Dr. Martinez, was held at the door by security for a full hour, the excuse being "to prevent cross-contamination."

By the time I finally got treated in the guest room, Seraphina was resting in the master bedroom, with Dante watching over her, refusing to leave her side.

"The wound is definitely infected," Dr. Martinez said as he cleaned it. "Isabella, you should have called me last night. Waiting this long was dangerous."

"I know."

"You need to rest for at least a week. No strenuous activity. If this gets worse, you might need surgery to clean it out."

I nodded, my gaze drifting through the half-open door. Dr. Romano was giving Dante the results.

"Miss Gallo's vitals are all normal. It's a mild stress reaction. I recommend a week of recovery in Switzerland. Their facilities are world-class."

"Switzerland?" Dante thought for a moment. "If it's what's best for her, we'll do it. I'll arrange the best care team."

"Dante," Seraphina's voice, sickly sweet, drifted from the master bedroom. "I'd be so scared to go alone... Will you come with me?"

I watched Dante walk toward the master bedroom, and then I heard his gentle reply, "Of course, baby. I'm not letting you go through this alone."

Dr. Martinez packed his medical kit, looking at my pale face. "Isabella, you need complete rest. It would be best if you had someone looking after you."

"I'll arrange it," I said.

But I knew there would be no one to look after me.

The next morning, when I woke up in the guest room, I could hear suitcases being packed in the master.

I saw Dante packing Seraphina’s clothes into a Louis Vuitton trunk.

"When are you leaving?" I asked.

"This afternoon," he said without looking up. "The private jet is ready."

Seraphina walked out of the master bedroom wearing my white cashmere coat. She saw my expression and gave a small, sheepish smile.

"I'm sorry, Isabella. All my clothes are at the dry cleaner's. Dante said you wouldn't mind."

I didn't. I would never wear that coat again.

"Dante," Seraphina went to his side, tucking herself against his arm. "I really don't want to be a bother to Isabella... Maybe I should just go alone?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Dante immediately tightened his grip on her. "Those men almost killed you. You think I'd let you go anywhere by yourself?"

A flash of triumph crossed Seraphina's eyes before being replaced by gratitude. She looked at me, her voice syrupy sweet.

"Isabella, you agree, right? With Dante around, I'm not afraid of anything. He'll handle any trouble for me, won't he?"

Her blue eyes held a glint of challenge as she waited for my answer.

Dante looked at me too, his gaze full of a softness and adoration—none of which was for me.

I looked at the man who once said he'd die for me, now ready to abandon me, wounded and alone, for another woman.

"Of course," I said, my voice as still as a frozen lake.