Chapter 7

Vera dragged her bloodied body to call for an ambulance.

The doctor shook his head as he worked. "Cuts aren't too deep, but they'll scar. Shame. Such a pretty girl. Whoever did this wasn't just angry—they were vicious. Your family must be devastated."

She gave a bitter smile.

Her family did this.

They wouldn't shed a tear. Wouldn't care.

She didn't have a family. Not anymore. The brother she once trusted? Already tossed her like garbage.

Still, before she vanished for good, she had one last weapon to finish.

Work kept the pain quiet.

***

Time flew. Before Vera could blink, the Quaranta and Chisari Families dropped the big announcement—the engagement was official.

Every Don in the underworld showed up. The banquet? Over-the-top. Flashy. Loud. A straight-up flex from Carlo, making it crystal clear how much he doted on Gina.

Vera couldn't help it—her mind slipped back. Her wedding with Carlo had been a ghost of a ceremony. No guests. No "congrats." Hell, he didn't even show up on time.

This? This was a different universe.

Music kicked in. Carlo and Gina stepped out, fingers laced, all glitz and glam, the golden couple of the night.

Carlo, cold as ice most days, was all charm and softness. He pulled out a sleek, modified piece and gave a rare smile.

"Gina customized this for me," he said. "Recoil's basically gone. Because of her, every man in the Quaranta Family's gonna have an edge. Marrying her? Luckiest move of my life."

Applause thundered through the hall. Gina soaked it up, acting sweet, but her eyes sparkled with smug.

Vera froze. Her hands shook.

That gun was hers.

The last thing she built for the Quaranta Family—never even had the chance to deliver it.

So how the hell was Gina getting the credit?

That weapon had been her one last shred of pride. She'd swallowed humiliation, exile, betrayal. But this?

No way.

"That gun's not yours!" Vera stood, voice slicing through the crowd. "I made it. Check the grip. Base has my initials—V.E."

Gina curled into Carlo like she was heartbroken. "Vera, how could you? That's not your mark. It stands for 'vita eterna.' It's a symbol of our love—and a blessing. Eternal life for the one who holds it."

Vera didn't even blink. Her eyes locked on Carlo. "I've got the blueprints and logs in my arsenal. You want proof? I'll show you."

For a second, something flickered in Carlo's eyes. Then he nodded.

"Fine. Show me."

But by the time Vera got to the arsenal, the place went up in flames.

The sky lit red. Smoke choked the air.

"Signorina, stop! You can't go in—there's still explosives in there!" someone yelled, holding her back.

She dropped, knees giving out, eyes locked on the blaze. Gina's smug little smirk looped in her head like a curse.

'It was her. Had to be.'

Fingers shaking, she called Carlo—heart pounding, breath tight.

He picked up, voice laced with pure ice.

"Oh, so the evidence just HAPPENS to burn up?" He scoffed. "You kidding me with this? I sent you away to save face, and now you pull this stunt?"

His tone cut like glass.

"Think for once. Gina's the Chisari principessa. She don't need to jack your scraps—she's got top-tier designers on speed dial."