Rejected by the Mafia Don, Claimed by His Rival

Alessia POV:

I played my part. I offered Isabella my congratulations. My support. My loyalty. Each word was a carefully constructed lie, earning me a smug, triumphant smile from the woman who had stolen my life.

Two of Dante's most trusted Soldiers, men who used to greet me with respect, now openly mocked me in a corner. "Look at her," one snickered. "Kissing the feet of the woman who replaced her. Pathetic."

I let myself feel nothing. The sting of their words couldn't breach the wall of ice I'd built around my heart. Dante stood nearby, watching it all. His silence was his consent. It was a clear message: without his favor, I was worthless. Any kindness he'd ever shown me had been a courtesy to my brother. Now, that courtesy was revoked.

Later, Isabella cornered me in a secluded alcove, away from the prying eyes of the party. Her face was a mask of feigned concern.

"Are you truly alright, Alessia?" she asked, her voice soft. Then, she leaned closer, her tone dropping to a sharp, venomous whisper. "How did you find out? About the plan?"

Before I could answer, the entire grand hall shuddered.

A sound like a gunshot cracked through the air, followed by the groan of tortured metal. I looked up. The massive crystal chandelier, a ton of glittering glass and steel, was plummeting directly toward us.

Time slowed.

I saw Dante. He was across the room, but he moved like a blur of black silk and controlled violence. He sprinted, his eyes locked on us. For a heart-stopping second, I thought he was coming for me.

He wasn't.

He ran straight past me, without so much as a flicker of a glance in my direction. He launched himself at Isabella, wrapping his body around hers, shielding her completely as they hit the floor.

He used his own body as a shield for her. He left me to die.

The world exploded in a shower of crystal and searing pain. The fixture's weight crushed my leg, the sound of my own bone snapping swallowed by the cacophony. Shards of crystal sliced into my skin, hot and sharp.

The last thing I saw before darkness consumed me was Dante, frantically checking Isabella for any scratch, his face a mask of pure terror for her safety-oblivious to me, lying broken and bleeding just a few feet away.

I woke up in the infirmary. The first thing I saw was my brother's face, a grim, tight mask of fury and pain.

"Luca," I whispered, my throat raw.

He gripped my hand. "I'm so sorry, Alessia. I should have..."

"No," I cut him off. My voice was a thread, but my resolve had hardened to steel. I looked into his eyes, letting him see the utter finality in mine. "It's over. I've truly let go."

He understood. He didn't need to ask what I meant.

"Ten days," I whispered, my breath catching on a wave of pain. "The transport to Falcone territory. Is it confirmed?"

He gave a single, sharp nod, his jaw tight. "It's confirmed."

My decision was no longer a choice. It was a necessity. It was absolute.