Chapter 3

I lowered my head, my eyes welling with tears. Any explanation I could offer would be meaningless now, because from start to finish, Domenico had never cared about the truth.

I was so tired, too tired to even argue anymore.

After that day, I moved into the east wing suite on my own. For three full days, I didn't go downstairs even once. And in that time, the entire estate transformed as though it had a new mistress.

The staff began taking Valentina's orders first. The kitchen prepared special meals for her. Even the Ferrante family's private doctor made three visits a day to the master bedroom.

Everyone revolved around the baby in her belly, while I, the actual wife, might as well have ceased to exist.

On the fourth night, the estate hosted a private dinner. The Silvestri family was coming to discuss a partnership on an arms shipment route, and Domenico had to be there.

I hadn't planned on attending, but Domenico came to my room personally. He draped a jacket over my shoulders, his voice gentle.

"There will be a lot of people tonight," he said. "You're my wife. It wouldn't look right if you weren't there."

I looked at myself in the mirror. I was pale and thin, like someone who'd had the life drained out of her in just a few days.

But I followed him downstairs anyway.

The foyer was packed. There were high-ranking members of the family, Silvestri associates, bodyguards, mistresses, and politicians, all dressed to the nines with glasses clinking and laughter filling the room.

And Valentina was sitting in the seat to Domenico's right, the one that had always been mine.

She smiled the moment she saw me walk in. "Nadia! I thought you weren't feeling well enough to come."

Domenico frowned slightly, and I could tell he'd noticed the seating arrangement too. But before he could say anything, one of the Silvestri men raised his glass with a grin.

"Don Ferrante certainly has it good. A lovely wife and a woman carrying his heir."

Knowing laughter rippled through the room. My fingers curled tight, and Domenico's expression went cold. "Watch your mouth!"

The man backtracked with a quick smile. "My apologies. Just a joke."

But everyone in that room knew it was more than that. Then Valentina clutched her stomach, her face draining of color. "Domenico, my stomach… Something hurts."

He was on his feet almost instantly, steadying her. "Get the doctor!"

The entire dining hall erupted into chaos. The private doctor rushed in.

Valentina clung to Domenico's sleeve, tears streaming down her face. "I only had one sip of champagne tonight. Why is this happening?"

The doctor's expression changed. "There's something wrong with the drink. Someone added a substance that induces contractions in pregnant women."

The room went dead silent. Every pair of eyes turned to me, because just minutes ago, I was the one who had handed Valentina that glass.

My mind went blank.

"It wasn't me," I said.

The words came out on instinct, but Valentina was already staring at me with red, swollen eyes. Tears fell one after another, and her voice broke. "Nadia, I know you hate me, but the baby didn't do anything wrong!"

Domenico hurled his glass onto the floor. It shattered on impact. The look in his eyes was terrifying.

"Bring me everyone who touched the drinks tonight."

The guards moved immediately. It wasn't long before his Underboss, Rocco Carini, returned, his face grim.

"Don, the security footage shows the drink passed through your wife's hands. And we found the remaining substance in the east wing suite."

My blood turned to ice. I understood immediately. This was a setup, and every piece of it had been aimed at me.

"It wasn't me," I said. "I didn't do anything."

I tried to keep my voice steady, but no one believed me. Every shred of evidence pointed in my direction.

Valentina collapsed against Domenico's chest, sobbing so hard she could barely breathe. "Domenico… I'm so scared…"

He stared at me, and those eyes I'd loved for years now held nothing but disappointment and cold. "Nadia, when did you become this person?"

For a moment, even breathing hurt. But nothing I said would change his mind.

"Take my wife back to her room. She is not to leave the estate grounds without my permission."

I looked at him one last time. This was his choice. He would rather believe a story full of holes than trust the woman he'd married.

Late that night, I got a call from my brother, Alessio Nucci.

"Tomorrow at dawn, you disappear," he said. "Every record, every trace, every piece of your identity gets wiped clean. As far as the world is concerned, Nadia Nucci will no longer exist."

He paused. "This is the last time I'm asking. Are you sure?"

I didn't hesitate. "I'm sure."

The next morning, a black sedan pulled up to the back gate of the estate. I slipped inside without a sound. The driver gave me a small nod.

"Everything's in place. The body double has been positioned in your room. Female, same height and build as you."

His tone was perfectly even. "In 10 minutes, there will be a fire in your room, controlled and untraceable, and as far as anyone will know, you died in it.

"Your belongings have been replicated down to the last detail, the clothes, the watch, the cane, even the perfume on your collar. Your name is where it needs to be. The evidence will hold. Enough to convince anyone, and enough to make him grieve."

I let out a slow breath. "Do it. Let's go."

Five minutes later, flames engulfed my room. I sat in the back of the sedan, watching everything I'd known burn, and whispered to myself, "Goodbye, Domenico. We will never see each other again."