Chapter 6

Three days later, the sedatives finally wore off. It seemed the fever had broken, too.

When the door opened, I could hardly believe it.

"Thea, today is Lucia's baptism," Alessio said, standing in the doorway. "My father insists you attend."

I looked at him. "Worried I'd rot in here?"

"Thea, don't talk like that," he said with a frown. "Get dressed. We leave in ten minutes."

The baptism was held in the grand hall of the Santoro estate. The room was filled with guests, champagne glasses clinking.

I sat in a corner, invisible.

On the main dais, Alessio stood beside the priest, holding his daughter. Aurelia, glowing in a white dress, was nestled at his side.

The perfect family.

"Such a beautiful picture, isn't it?" Aurelia was suddenly beside me. "Don't you think so, Thea?"

I ignored her.

"Come on, let's take a photo together," she said, pulling me to my feet. "To remember this special moment."

I tried to pull away, but her nails dug into my wrist.

"Smile, Thea," she whispered in my ear. "Let everyone see how 'supportive' you are of our little family."

The photographer raised his camera.

"Three, two, one—"

A horrific screech of tearing metal from above. The massive crystal chandelier shuddered. It was falling.

"Look out!" Alessio's roar ripped through the hall.

He didn't hesitate. He dropped his daughter and lunged. Not for us. For me. He tackled me, sending us both sprawling as the chandelier crashed where I'd been standing a second before.

CRASH!

The chandelier, weighing thousands of pounds, smashed onto the floor, sending crystal shards flying everywhere.

"Aaaah!" Aurelia's scream ripped through the air.

She was lying in the wreckage, her white dress soaked with blood.

"Aurelia!" Alessio scrambled to her side. "Call an ambulance!"

I stood frozen, watching it all unfold.

If Alessio hadn't pulled me away, that would have been me.

He had saved me.

But the next second, as he scooped Aurelia into his arms, my heart turned back to ice.

Outside the operating room, everyone waited.

"She's lost too much blood. She needs an immediate transfusion," a doctor said, rushing out. "But Miss Rossi is RH-negative, and we don't have enough in the blood bank."

"What do we do?" Alessio was frantic.

"We need to find a matching donor."

Every head turned. Carmela's gaze locked onto me like a hawk. "Thea," she said, her voice flat and cold. "She's RH-negative."

My body started to shake.

"No," I said, shaking my head. "I won't give her my blood."

"Thea!" Alessio grabbed my shoulders, his face contorted with rage. "Aurelia is dying!"

"That's not my problem," I said, shrugging him off.

"How can you be so selfish?" he snarled. "If Aurelia dies, the alliance with the Rossis dies with her. It means war. We will never get out."

I laughed, tears streaming down my face.

"Alessio, do you regret saving me?"

He froze.

"Mr. Santoro, we need a decision now!" the doctor urged. "The patient is running out of time!"

Alessio's patience snapped.

"Take her to the donation room," he ordered the guards.

"No!" I struggled. "I don't consent!"

"Thea, that's an order," his voice was as sharp and cold as a razor. "If Aurelia dies, we're all finished."

Two guards grabbed my arms and dragged me away.

They forced me into a chair. A nurse efficiently slid a needle into my vein.

I watched my own blood drain out through the tube.

Alessio stood by the door to the operating room, his back to me, waiting anxiously.

He didn't spare me a single glance.

"Sir, that's 400cc," the nurse stammered. "The recommended limit—"

"Keep drawing," Alessio commanded, his back still to me. "Draw until you have enough."

The blood bag filled. I started to feel dizzy. My vision blurred.

"Sir, we're at 600cc. Any more could be dangerous—"

"Is it enough yet?" Alessio snapped at the doctor.

"It should be."

I looked at his back. My heart was a dead, empty thing.

In his eyes, one drop of Aurelia's blood was worth more than my entire life.

My vision went black.

When I woke up, the hospital room was quiet.

I slowly opened my eyes and saw Alessio.

He was standing by the bed, looking down at me. But his eyes were ice. No warmth, no guilt. Nothing.

His first words weren't 'Are you okay?'. They weren't 'I'm sorry'. They were a blade straight to the heart.

"Did you loosen the screws on that chandelier?"