Chapter 3

Seraphina POV:

The first thing I did when I got back to the hotel was finish the purge. I went through the suite, gathering every gift Ethan had ever given me-the diamond necklace, the designer dresses, the first-edition books-and packed them into boxes to be sent back to the Costello compound. This wasn't just about removing things; it was about reclaiming space, both physical and mental.

In the back of the closet, I found a small, sealed box. Inside were a pair of tiny, knitted baby booties. White. I'd bought them a year ago, right before the miscarriage Ethan's doctor had called a "tragic accident." I stared at them, the soft wool a stark reminder of a future that had been stolen from me. I didn't cry. The pain was too old, too deep for tears now. I placed the booties on top of the diamonds and closed the box. A final goodbye to a ghost.

My phone rang. It was the head of acquisitions for Costello Innovations, practically begging me to reconsider my resignation. "The board is in a panic, Sera. The biotech portfolio is collapsing without you. Ethan is... distracted."

"That's not my problem anymore," I said, and hung up. I was Seraphina Valentino now, not an extension of the Costello empire.

Later that evening, Ethan called. He sounded weak, but the arrogance was still there, woven into the fabric of his voice. "I heard you've been cleaning house. Are you done with your little protest?"

He still didn't get it. He thought this was a performance.

"I'm moving my things out of the compound tomorrow," I said, my voice level.

"No, you're not," he stated, as if it were a fact. "This is ridiculous. You're overreacting."

"Am I?" I asked, a dangerous calm settling over me. I decided to give him one last chance to see, to understand. "I'm tired of sharing my husband, Ethan. I'm tired of being second place."

It was a strategic lie. I wasn't tired of sharing him; I was done with him entirely. But I needed to know what he would say.

He sighed, a long-suffering sound. "Isabella is a delicate situation. She needs me right now. You're strong, Sera. You always have been. Can't you just be patient?"

He was asking the woman whose kidney he'd stolen to be patient while he tended to the recipient. The audacity of it stole my breath.

While he was talking, a notification popped up on my laptop. The same gossip blog. A new post. It was a photo of Isabella's hand, a massive canary diamond on her ring finger, intertwined with Ethan's. The caption, posted from her private account, was simple: "Forever."

He was proposing to her. While he was on the phone telling me to be patient.

The line went silent. I think he realized I'd seen it.

Before he could speak, his condition took a turn. I could hear him gasping, then Dr. Gallo's panicked voice in the background. "It's another bleed! He's hemorrhaging! Get Seraphina back here now!"

A cyclical nightmare. His weakness, his carelessness, always required a piece of me to fix.

Isabella's voice came on the line then, laced with fake panic. "Seraphina, you have to come! He's asking for you! He needs you!" She was playing the part of the concerned mistress, but I could hear the undertone of triumph. She knew this bound me to him. She knew it was the perfect chain.

This time, I didn't say yes. I just hung up.

I walked to the adjoining room where two of Dante's men were stationed. They stood as I entered. "It's time," I said.

As we were leaving, my burner phone buzzed with a message from my informant inside the Costello compound. It was an audio file. I put in an earbud and pressed play.

It was a recording from Ethan's hospital room, made just moments ago. Isabella's voice was cloying and sweet. "She hung up, Eth. She's not coming."

There was a pause, then Ethan's weak, raspy laugh.

"Don't worry about it," he breathed. "She's just being dramatic. She'll be back. She'd die for me. Seraphina will never, ever leave me. She's mine."

That was it. That was the sound of the last thread snapping. His absolute, unshakeable certainty that I was his property. His utter blindness to the woman I had become.

He wasn't just a monster. He was a fool. A fool who had just signed his own death warrant.

As the car pulled away from the hotel, I felt a strange sense of peace. The exhaustion was gone, replaced by something cold and hard and pure. Revenge.

I would not just leave him. I would dismantle him. I would burn his kingdom to the ground and dance on the ashes. He thought I would never leave? I would become a ghost he would spend the rest of his miserable life chasing.