Chapter 3

When I came to, I was back in my hospital bed.

Outside, Viviana's voice slipped through the door. "Antonio, I'm so sorry. I don't know what happened—maybe an allergic reaction or something."

His voice cut like ice. "An allergic reaction? Viviana, what the hell were you thinking giving her untested meds? She's barely hanging on as it is!"

Viviana's voice cracked. "I didn't mean for this to happen. I just wanted her to get better fast, be strong for the wedding. I didn't think she'd react like that..."

Antonio let out a tired sigh. "Be more careful. She's too fragile for this. Don't screw up again."

That was it?

He let her off that easy?

Not even a second opinion?

If he brought in literally anyone else, he'd see—I'm actually dying.

My chest burned with that ugly twist of betrayal. I shut my eyes as tears slid down.

But even if he knew... what would it change? I'd still be gone.

The door creaked open. Antonio stepped in.

His face softened when he saw me awake. "Emilia, hey. How're you feeling?"

I shook my head. "What'd the doctor say?"

His eyes flickered. Fake smile, locked in. "Nothing major. Just stress. Stick to the treatment, you'll be okay."

I looked away, swallowing the bitterness. He wasn't worried about me—just scared I'd blame Viviana.

He tried to change the subject. "Wedding's in two days. Your dress is ready—they want you to try it on."

I nodded. I knew I'd never walk down that aisle, but maybe slipping into the dress, snapping a few pics... it'd be something.

My throat tightened. I blurted, "If I died... would you miss me?"

His face fell. He grabbed my hand, full panic. "Don't say that. You're not dying."

"But what if I do? I have lung canc—"

"Mr. Santoro! Dr. Bellanti fainted!" a nurse shouted from the hall.

Antonio froze—then bolted.

I stared at the door, numb.

***

Antonio never came back.

I got up and cracked the door open, catching a nurse in the hallway. "Where's Antonio?"

"He's with Dr. Bellanti," she said.

I clenched my jaw and pulled out my phone.

Viviana had just posted.

Photo: her and Antonio at some fancy restaurant, all smiles.

Caption: [Finally made it to the place I've always wanted to try! Thank you, Mr. Santoro.]

My hands shook. The phone slipped and hit the floor.

Pain stabbed through my chest. I coughed—blood.

Antonio... if you knew I was dying, would you stay?

Would you still choose her over me in my final hours?

***

After popping my pain meds, I left the hospital.

Didn't go home—went straight to the bridal shop. Tried on the dress. It hung a little loose, but in the mirror, I looked beautiful.

A staff member knelt to fix the hem. "Ms. Bellanti, you're so thin. It's not healthy. We've had to resize this dress so many times. You look even slimmer today."

That one stung.

Even a stranger could tell I was fading. But my own family? My fiancé? Clueless.

***

I left with the dress, heading home. I needed Antonio to see me in it.

Because if he didn't see me now... he never would.

The second I walked in, I saw them—Antonio and Viviana—sitting on the couch, tense.

Viviana's eyes flashed something nasty.

Antonio stood, voice sharp. "Emilia, did you report Viviana for screwing up your meds and causing your collapse?"

I froze. "What report?"

"Don't play dumb." His voice got sharper. "The hospital got a formal complaint about Viviana's meds. Who else would file it?"

"Antonio, don't talk to her like that," Viviana said gently. "Emilia, I know I messed up the treatment, and I'm sorry. But a report? That could destroy everything. I could lose my license."

My whole body went cold.

They'd already made up their minds. Guilty—without even asking.

"I didn't," I said.

Antonio's jaw tightened. "Still lying? You've been after Viviana for a while. Want me to list everything you've pulled? Why do you keep attacking her? She's your sister."

He grabbed my arm and yanked me toward my room.

"You need to think about what you've done. Stay in here until you get it."

Then the door slammed shut.

I sat on the floor, knees to my chest, silent. Tears slid down, sinking into the wood.

Then came the blood.

I touched my face—nose, mouth, both bleeding.

It soaked into the white of my wedding dress.

I closed my eyes and collapsed, vision tilting toward the clock on the wall.

Eight hours left.

Almost free.

***

That night before dinner, Antonio glanced up at the locked room, eyes clouded with doubt. "I should check on Emilia."

Emilia's parents—Riccardo and Francesca—nodded.

"Go for it. Last thing we need is her passing out before the wedding."

"Wait!" Viviana jumped in. "Already handled it. I sent someone up with food."

She grabbed his arm, voice soft but firm. "Don't cave now. She'll just twist it, like always. Let her learn—she can't keep acting like a brat."

Antonio kept staring at the door, something gnawing at him. But after a beat, he dropped back into his seat.

"...Alright."

***

The next morning, Antonio was up early, getting ready for the wedding. The Bellanti house was full-on buzzing.

Just before they headed out, Riccardo and Francesca nudged him.

"Why's Emilia so quiet? Don't tell me she's still sulking 'cause she hasn't said sorry."

"It's time. Go check on her."

Antonio headed upstairs.

He froze at the top. Something about the silence felt... off.

His gut twisted. He shoved it down and pushed the door open.

The second it cracked, the sharp, metallic sting of blood punched him in the face.

The white wedding dress—drenched in red.

He looked up. Blood was everywhere, splattered across the floor like some sick painting.

His chest locked up. No air. No logic.

"Emilia!"