Fiction Key

Dominic Corsetti's mistress was pregnant.On the day of our ninth wedding anniversary, he brought her home to the estate."Bianca hasn't been feeling well. Starting today, she'll be staying in the master bedroom. You're moving to the guest room in the east wing."His tone was the same one he used to give orders to his men. "Also, she's particular about her food. You'll arrange three meals a day for her. No repeats." I didn't answer. I simply picked up the suitcase I'd packed three days ago and walked calmly toward the front door. Giovanni, the butler, moved to stop me but was pinned in place by a single look from Dominic. Dominic let out a cold laugh. "Let her go. Give it three days—she'll come crawling back on her own. Without this place, she can't even afford her next meal." The people behind him laughed. Someone offered to bet ten million that I wouldn't last the night. Another said it wouldn't take that long—I'd be in tears before I made it past the gate. Nine years. In this estate, I was never anyone's godmother. I was a joke. A joke anyone felt entitled to trample on. But what they didn't know was that the black stretch Lincoln he had arranged was already waiting at the end of the estate's drive. It had been there for two hours. This time, I was really leaving. I was about to push open the front door. "Seraphina." Dominic stopped me. "Leave the pendant around your neck. Bianca likes it." The pendant was my mother's dowry—a symbol of peace and happiness, an heirloom of the Valenti family. My eyes stung with tears, but Dominic remained indifferent. "Name your price. I'll have accounting wire it to you." A price? To him, how much could something I treasured possibly be worth? I thought about the last time I'd refused him. On the Alpine slopes in winter, Bianca wanted my snow goggles. I hesitated for three seconds. Five minutes later, I was stripped of my coat and left on a mountainside at twelve below zero. I unclasped the pendant, walked over to Bianca, and fastened it around her neck with my own hands. "I hope you and your baby stay safe and well." I was as calm as a stranger. Hearing this, Dominic came over, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. "Seraphina, as long as you behave, my child can call you Mama too." Before the words had fully left his mouth, the clasp on Bianca's necklace suddenly snapped open. The sapphire struck the floor, and a sharp fragment sliced a thin line of blood across Bianca's shin. Bianca screamed. Dominic moved on pure instinct, rushing to her and scooping her up in his arms. "Get the doctor! Now!" He barked the order at the butler without looking back. The panic on his face drew every eye in the room to me. Their gazes held mockery. Amusement. Honestly, even I found it absurd. The night before, I'd had a cardiac episode. My lips turned purple. My whole body seized. And Dominic walked right past me without even slowing down. He was in a hurry to take Bianca to a fireworks show on the outskirts of the city. Before I lost consciousness, I heard him tell the butler: "Have someone disinfect the living room later. Bianca's coming back tomorrow—I don't want her smelling anything unpleasant." Unpleasant. He meant me. But I'd long since stopped caring. I turned toward the front door again. That was when Dominic seized my wrist, his expression ice-cold. "Kneel. Apologize." "It wasn't—" Before I could finish, he wrenched me down. I fell to my knees in front of Bianca. My kneecaps drove hard into the sapphire shards. Blood instantly stained the white marble tiles. Dominic glanced down at the blood, a flash of disgust crossing his eyes, and let go. "You deliberately destroyed Bianca's pendant and hurt her, and you don't even think to apologize? Did the dogs eat your manners?" After marrying Dominic, "I'm sorry" had become a reflex. The dessert was too sweet—I'm sorry. I texted him late at night asking when he'd be home and disturbed him—I'm sorry. I accidentally walked into the study and caught him having sex with Bianca, invading their privacy—I'm truly sorry. I swallowed the pain and, still on my knees, said "I'm sorry" three times. Then I straightened up and looked Dominic in the eye. "Is that enough?" Dominic stared at my ashen face. His chest rose and fell visibly. But all he said was: "Don't pull the pity act with me, Seraphina. Nobody's buying it except my grandfather." Before I could respond, the family doctor arrived. One look from Dominic, and someone shoved me aside. Everyone swarmed around Bianca. I dragged my injured legs toward the exit and pushed through the estate's iron gates. At the far end of the drive, a pair of headlights flashed twice. I was about to quicken my pace when two bodyguards in black appeared out of nowhere. Chapter 2 I was bound and brought back to the study on the second floor. "Dominic, what are you doing?" Dominic stood behind the mahogany desk without so much as lifting his gaze. "Start drawing blood." The next second, a collection needle longer than an infant's arm pierced my vein. A cold, dull ache spread along the vessel all the way to my heart. The study door was half open. I heard the doctor's lowered voice in the corridor: "Don, although your wife happens to have Rh-negative blood, which makes her a compatible donor for Ms. Russo, she has a heart condition. If we continue drawing large volumes, there's a significant risk of sudden cardiac death." "I'd recommend going to the family hospital first, and treating Ms. Russo's anemia there—" "All you need to do is make sure Bianca stays healthy." Dominic's voice betrayed no emotion whatsoever. "Everything else is not your concern." Footsteps drew closer. I closed my eyes. "Does it hurt?" His tone was almost—unusually—soft. "Just a little longer. It's almost over." I turned my head away and refused to look at him. By the eight-hundredth milliliter, my lips had lost all color. My fingertips were ice. My vision blurred. The ringing in my ears grew louder and louder. Then, from the direction of the master bedroom, came a light cough from Bianca. Dominic immediately pressed down on the doctor's hand just as he was about to remove the needle. "Draw double." Sweat beaded across the doctor's forehead. "Don, if we keep going, she will die—" Dominic didn't hesitate for a single second. "Bianca is pregnant. The expectant mother comes first. Always." Faced with the Don, the doctor didn't dare protest further. He looked at me helplessly. "Draw it." My voice was faint but clear. "When you're done, let me leave." Dominic's face instantly twisted with anger. His lips moved. I knew what he wanted to say—something along the lines of what kind of tantrum is this, it's a minor thing, is it really worth running away from home over. But just then, Bianca's honeyed voice floated from the master bedroom: "Dominic…" He turned and left without looking back. The moment the door closed behind him, my consciousness finally slipped into darkness. When I woke, two days had passed. The air in the hospital smelled of antiseptic. I opened my eyes to find Dominic sitting beside the bed, reviewing documents. He looked up when he noticed I was awake and picked up the glass of milk on the nightstand, as if to feed it to me. I shook my head. "I can do it myself." He watched me struggle upright and slowly finish the milk. "Is anything hurting?" he asked. "Please give me my phone," I said. Perhaps my tone was too cold. Dominic stared for a few seconds before contacting the butler and having my phone brought over. When it arrived, the screen showed a row of missed calls. Dominic's eyes settled on the unfamiliar number. "Who is this?" He'd never cared about things like this before. But I felt an instinctive wave of irritation and brushed him off. "Nobody you know." He frowned, looking down at me with that cold, imperious gaze. "How long do you plan on giving me attitude, Seraphina?" "Don't test my patience." There was a time when his anger would send my heart racing, when I'd scramble to figure out what I'd done wrong. But now I simply pointed at the phone buzzing in his pocket and said, expressionless: "Bianca's looking for you." He glanced down, and his features softened instantly. He turned and walked out of the room. The moment he left, my phone rang. I picked up, and the man on the other end spoke in a rush: "Sera, you said you were coming to me. Did you change your mind?" "No. There was just a small complication." "What complication? What happened to you? That's it—I'm booking a flight home right now—" "Don't." I cut him off, closing my eyes. "Just give me a few more days. A few days. That's all." I hung up just as Dominic pushed the door open. He caught the lingering trace of a smile at the corner of my mouth, and something tightened inexplicably in his chest. But he'd just promised Bianca he'd come right back to be with her and the baby. He assumed the person I'd been talking to was probably my cousin who dropped by once in a while. After all, since marrying him, I had no friends left besides a handful of female relatives. With that thought, Dominic gathered his files and headed for the door without looking back. "Something's come up with the family. I'll come by tomorrow." Chapter 3 He didn't show up for the next three days. But my phone kept buzzing with news about him and Bianca. He took her to galas hosted by all the major families, to the most exclusive auctions. Like a young man who'd just fallen in love, desperate to introduce his sweetheart to the entire world. The day I was discharged, Dominic posted a series of photos on Twitter. In the fading light of dusk, aboard a hot air balloon, he cradled Bianca's flushed cheeks in both hands as they shared a deep, tender kiss. I left a single comment underneath: "Wishing you both a lifetime together." Ten minutes later, he called. I didn't pick up. Half an hour later, I finished the discharge paperwork alone and, in the maternity ward corridor, spotted Dominic and Bianca. Dominic had one arm around Bianca's waist, the other helping her fill out medical forms. The nurse smiled at Bianca. "Mrs. Corsetti, you're so lucky. Your husband accompanies you to every single prenatal visit—he even insists on warming the ultrasound gel in his own hands before he lets us use it on you." The other expectant mothers gazed on with envy. My hand drifted unconsciously to my lower belly. Once, a child had lived there too. Two years ago, on a rainy night, a rival family launched an ambush. In the chaos of the gunfight, the car tumbled down a hillside. I was rushed to the family hospital, covered in blood, and managed to video-call Dominic. The moment the call connected, what I saw was Bianca—bare from the shoulders up. She smiled into the camera. "Mrs. Corsetti, Dominic lost our little game and is currently on the bed receiving his punishment. Is there something urgent?" I hung up. Less than a minute later, Dominic called back. On-screen, he had his arm around a teary-eyed Bianca, and he tore into me without preamble—petty, unreasonable, impossible. "It was just a car accident, and you couldn't even protect your own child. I'm genuinely curious what someone as useless as you is even good for in this life." "Seraphina, honestly, it would've been better if Vincenzo's people had just put a bullet in you and been done with it." I pulled myself out of the memory and turned to leave by another route. But Dominic was already standing in front of me, his face devoid of warmth. "What are you doing here?" I lowered my gaze, the explanation leaving my lips like a reflex. "I wasn't following you. I just happened to be passing through. Sorry for the intrusion." "Wait." Dominic frowned and called after me. A flash of jealousy darted through Bianca's eyes, and she tightened her grip on his arm. "Dominic, I'm truly so grateful to your wife for giving me that blood transfusion. If it weren't for her, I'd still be dizzy and weak. Please, can you ask her to come back to the estate with us?" Dominic indulgently tapped the tip of her nose with his knuckle. "The kindest little mother in the world. Whatever you say goes." I needed to go back for my passport and documents anyway, so I didn't refuse. Once inside the stretch Lincoln, I did exactly what Bianca had intended—I fished a lace undergarment from between the seat cushions. The traces on it were still damp. It had clearly been left there on purpose. "Oh my God—how is that still in the car! Dominic, I thought you said you cleaned it out ages ago?" Bianca burrowed into Dominic's arms, blushing, playfully pounding his chest with her fists. Dominic laughed softly and murmured that it was all his fault for being careless, while discreetly watching me for a reaction. But I was simply booking a plane ticket on my phone. His smile faded. His expression darkened, and an unnamed irritation coiled inside him. "Seraphina, you've been staring at your phone this whole time." "Who are you texting? That cousin of yours? Or someone else I don't know about?" I finished the payment and turned off the screen. "Just reading the news." Hearing that, the storm behind his eyes only deepened. Before I could react, he snatched the phone from my hand. "Passcode." "My birthday." I wasn't the least bit worried he'd see my booking confirmation. Nine years of marriage. He had never once paid attention to me. Sure enough, he tried again and again until the phone locked him out—and still couldn't get it right. Chapter 4 Back at the estate, Dominic first carried Bianca—nauseous and miserable from morning sickness—into the master bedroom, then instructed the kitchen to prepare her favorite dishes. On his way downstairs, he caught sight of me walking toward the east wing guest room. He was silent for a few seconds, then said to the butler: "Add two of the dishes my wife usually eats. Set three places for dinner. Let her… eat at the table." I heard him. But I didn't slow down. I closed the guest room door behind me and opened my suitcase. Every piece of clothing inside had been slashed to ribbons. Even the old sweaters I'd brought from the Valenti house hadn't been spared. But the passport and identification documents hidden in the lining were untouched. I tucked the documents into my coat's inner pocket, picked up the empty suitcase, and turned to leave. The moment I opened the door, Bianca was standing right there, blocking the way. She held a black plastic bottle, eyeing me up and down with undisguised contempt and hatred. "Seraphina, I have to hand it to you—you really know how to take a beating. I've ground your face into the dirt, humiliated you in front of every family that matters, and you're still clinging to the Corsetti name like a barnacle." She tilted her head, as if a delightful thought had just occurred to her. "Then again, that old woman from the Valenti family did just die last month. Lost your last bargaining chip, didn't you? No wonder you're holding on to Dominic for dear life." "But here's the thing—" She leaned in close, lowering her voice. "Do you know why Dominic refused to send a helicopter to take you to the hospital that day? When you were on your knees at the gate, begging to see your grandmother one last time?" She raised her phone screen so I could see. The photo showed a golden beach bathed in the last light of sunset. Dominic was kissing Bianca's cheek. "Because he'd promised to take me to watch the sunset by the sea that day. This photo of us kissing? Taken that very evening. Pretty, isn't it?" The memory of never getting to see my grandmother's face one final time surged through me, and I knocked the phone from her hand. Unable to hold back any longer, I seized her by the throat. "You don't get to say her name." Nine years, and it was the first time I'd raised a hand. The rage blinded me to my own strength. Bianca's face turned purple. As she thrashed, the black bottle slipped from her grasp and hit the floor. The acrid reek of gasoline filled the air instantly. The liquid seeped along the gaps between the tiles. A wave of nausea hit me, and I let go instinctively. "Bitch! Go to hell!" In the chaos, Bianca scrambled backward, snatched a candlestick from the mantelpiece, and hurled it to the ground. The instant flame met gasoline, the entire room erupted in fire. Smoke billowed in thick, suffocating waves. I'd been out of the hospital for less than half a day. My lungs hadn't recovered. The moment the smoke hit my throat, I doubled over in a violent coughing fit, my legs buckled, and I collapsed to the floor. The fire spread far faster than I'd imagined. A wall of heat slammed into me. The air reeked of char. Then I heard Dominic's voice. "Seraphina! Sera!" Followed by the butler and security trying to hold him back—"Don, it's too dangerous in there! Wait until they bring the extinguishers—" "Get out of my way! Seraphina's still inside!" He charged in. But the first thing his eyes went to was Bianca, curled up against the far wall, well clear of the flames, sobbing. "Dominic… save me…" She didn't even finish the sentence before he bent down and scooped her into his arms. He didn't look at me. Not once. He turned and walked toward the door. Firelight danced across his retreating back. Bianca, draped over his shoulder, peered through the haze of smoke and gave me a triumphant smile. I retreated into the room and climbed out through the window. … An hour later, I mailed the package, coughed my way through the departure terminal, and dragged the last of my strength toward the international boarding gate. In the final moment before boarding, my phone screen lit up. A text from Dominic. [Where are you? What kind of disappearing act is this? Bianca has a prenatal appointment at nine tomorrow morning. Come. And while you're at it, have someone look at your lungs.] I didn't reply. I powered off the phone, removed the SIM card, snapped it in half, and dropped it in the trash. Dominic Corsetti. For the rest of our lives, you and I are done. Chapter 5 The next day. The hospital. "Dominic, is the baby okay?" Bianca lifted those dewy, almond-shaped eyes, her voice laced with exactly the right amount of fragility. Dominic's arm went around her shoulders almost on reflex, his voice low and soothing. "The doctor says everything's perfectly normal. Last night didn't affect the baby at all. Don't worry." "That's a relief… You've had this stony look on your face ever since we walked through the hospital doors, not saying a word. I was starting to think something was wrong with the baby…" Bianca's offhand remark made him falter for a beat. An image surfaced unbidden in his mind—Seraphina's face, looking up at him through the fire. Not pleading. Not bitter. Not any emotion he recognized. It was empty. Dominic frowned and opened his message thread again. The text he'd sent sat at the bottom of the conversation, unanswered. Nothing beneath it. In the past, no matter how badly he neglected her—even if he didn't come home for an entire week—her replies never took longer than five minutes. Every message, no matter how cutting, she would answer immediately, carefully, as if walking on eggshells. And now… she'd suddenly learned to play hard to get. He scoffed inwardly, slipped the phone back into his breast pocket, and gently helped Bianca out of the maternity ward. He sat with her through lunch, personally escorted her back to the estate and made sure she was settled, then drove to the office building downtown. He'd barely stepped through his office door when his assistant, Enzo, approached. "Don, the old man is back in the country. He's ordered all senior members to the underground conference room immediately. Says he has something important to announce." Dominic was already unfastening his cuffs and striding toward the elevator, issuing orders without turning around: "Get a few things ready for me. The best handbag of the season, and a matching jewelry set. Something Seraphina would like." Enzo fell into step behind him. "Understood, Don. Shall I have them delivered to Ms. Russo?" Dominic stopped walking. He turned and swept Enzo with a cold glance. "Send them to the Valenti house." In his mind, Seraphina had nowhere to go once she left the estate except her family's old house. It was empty now, just a few aging servants rattling around, but at least it was safer than being out in the open. She was throwing a tantrum. Once she cooled off, she'd come back on her own. One week later. Having just closed a cross-border arms deal, Dominic finally returned to the estate at two in the morning. The instant he pushed through the front door, he spotted a slender figure curled up on the living room sofa. A satin nightgown strap had slipped halfway down one shoulder, baring a sliver of pale collarbone. "Seraphina, how many times have I told you—I'll come home when I'm finished. You don't have to wait up every single—" He stopped mid-sentence as he drew closer and saw who it was. Bianca. The reprimand died on his lips. Caught in the sudden weight of his darkened gaze, Bianca shivered and looked up, aggrieved. "Dominic… your wife hasn't been home in days. I've sent her so many apology messages, and she's read every single one without replying. Do you think I'm making her uncomfortable by being here? Maybe… maybe I should move out?" Looking at Bianca's reddened eyes, at the way she trembled like she might collapse at any moment, Dominic quietly furrowed his brow and drew her into his arms. He pressed a somewhat perfunctory kiss to her forehead and told her to rest, to stop overthinking. "Regardless of what Seraphina thinks, from today, this estate is home for you and the baby. No one is going to make you leave." Half an hour after he said those words. Three a.m. on the terrace. A man in a black robe stood alone against the stone railing, a half-smoked cigarette pinched between his fingers. He'd quit smoking a long time ago. But tonight, for reasons he couldn't name, a restless, unplaceable agitation had taken root in his chest, and without something to burn between his lips, it was going to drive him out of his mind. As if guided by something beyond his control, he unlocked his phone and scrolled to the very bottom of his contacts. Seraphina. His thumb hovered over the call button. He couldn't bring himself to press it. One cigarette burned down to nothing. He lit another. The second was nearly spent when he finally decided not to make the call. Instead, he typed out a message and sent it. [Vittorio's eightieth birthday celebration is tomorrow. You'd better show up. And don't cause any trouble for Bianca or the baby at the banquet. My patience has limits.] After sending it, he stared at the message for a long time. Not until the cigarette ash fell and seared the web of his thumb did he snap out of it and toss the phone aside. What he didn't know was— This message would never be delivered. Because its intended recipient was thousands of miles away, in Nortzence, living a new life under a new number—a life with no connection whatsoever to Dominic Corsetti.