The Cost of Playing Favorites

In the third year of my relationship with Dante Santoro, heir to the Santoro family fortune, I got pregnant.

The night before the Don's birthday banquet, he finally brought me home as his girlfriend.

Giulia Costa, the housekeeper's daughter, smiled sweetly and asked about my food allergies. I mentioned I was allergic to truffles.

In the end, every dish at dinner was loaded with truffles. I swallowed my irritation and grabbed a slice of cake that looked safe.

Two bites in, I heard her laugh.

"I got creative and mixed truffle powder into the frosting. How is it?"

Before I could answer, my throat closed up and I could not breathe.

Giulia gasped and covered her mouth. "Ms. Leone, your skin is turning purple! Do you have some kind of contagious disease?"

Everyone watched as I was carried out like trash.

The moment my allergic reaction cleared up, Giulia insisted on helping me pack.

I told her multiple times not to touch my ring. In the few minutes I spent in the bathroom, she "accidentally" knocked it down the drain. That was the wedding ring Dante gave me.

I lost my temper and confronted her, but Dante just laughed it off. "She's jealous of your pretty ring. Don't be so petty."

That night, Giulia brought sleep-aid drinks to my room as an apology.

Dante convinced me to accept her peace offering. I drank a few cups and felt drowsy almost immediately.

When Giulia walked me back to my room, I told her to lock the door behind her.

Ten minutes later, a group of men shoved their way inside and beat my stomach until I miscarried.

The baby was gone.

Giulia's eyes filled with tears as she claimed she never saw anyone enter. She said I never wanted the Santoro family to have an heir and had orchestrated my own abortion.

Dante went white with rage and ordered his men to dump me in the ocean. When I opened my eyes again, it was the night before the banquet.

"Ms. Leone, do you have any food allergies? I'll personally inform the kitchen."

The moment I stepped out of the car, a woman with perfect makeup hooked her arm through mine like we were old friends.

It was the same words, and the same tone.

I looked up at the soaring dome and the crystal chandelier emitting golden light.

I knew this house. This was the Santoro estate.

I had died here once before.

Dante Santoro stood beside me in a perfectly tailored black suit, composed, charming, and untouchable. His hand rested lightly on the small of my back with a hint of possession.

"Giulia is waiting for your answer," he murmured near my ear. "What are you thinking about?"

What was I thinking about?

Seawater flooding my lungs. Steel-toed boots slamming into my abdomen until the life inside me became a pool of blood…

My fingers dug into my palms, nails biting deep into flesh. I forced the memory down and managed a smile.

"I'm severely allergic to caviar. I absolutely cannot have it. However, you can add plenty of truffles. I love the aroma."

A flash of something sharp flickered in Giulia's eyes.

"Of course," she said sweetly. "I'll make sure everything is perfect."

After Giulia left for the kitchen, Dante frowned in confusion. "I'm the one who's allergic to caviar. Since when are you allergic too?"

I lowered my eyes to hide the coldness in them.

"I'm so used to remembering your preferences that when she asked, I accidentally said yours instead. It doesn't matter. As long as you're happy, I can eat anything."

His expression softened and he leaned down to kiss the spot behind my ear.

"I've already received the family’s signet ring. Tomorrow, at my father's birthday banquet, I'll formally inherit the position of head of the family.”

"We'll announce our engagement then."

Before I could respond, Giulia's voice drifted from the kitchen. "Dante, I need your help. Can you come here for a moment?"

He did not even glance at me before rolling up his sleeves. "Coming."

I watched his back disappear from view. I touched my slightly rounded belly and did not stop him.

In my previous life, it had been the same.

Back then, Giulia asked about my dietary restrictions. I said I was allergic to truffles and could not have any at all.

Every dish at dinner gleamed with paper-thin slices of black truffles flown in from Emaly.

I thought it was just a plating oversight and ate two bites of what looked like plain cream cake. The moment I swallowed, I heard her laugh.

"Ms. Leone, I specially mixed truffle powder into the cream. Doesn't it have more depth of flavor now?"

The swelling burned from my throat all the way to my chest. I tried to speak but could only manage broken gasps for air.

"Oh my god!" Giulia screamed and staggered back half a step, her face twisted in disgust.

"You just ate some cake and your skin is turning purple, Ms. Leone? Do you have some kind of contagious disease?"

I collapsed from my chair and was carried away on a stretcher, my face contorted in pain. Everyone avoided me like I might infect them.

When I woke up, Dante sat calmly at my bedside.

"Matilde, Giulia didn't mean to hurt you. She misheard. She thought you said you liked eating truffles.”

"She may be the housekeeper's daughter, but we grew up together. She's like a sister to me.”

"This is just a small matter. Don't make a big deal out of it."

A small matter. The humiliation I suffered was a small matter.

My child was a small matter. My life was also a small matter.

This time, I would never let these things remain "small matters."

Night fell, and Dante brought me to the dining room for dinner. The long table gleamed under the light of the crystal chandelier. We took our seats.

The moment he looked down, his expression darkened, but the corners of my mouth lifted.

It was because every single dish on the table was glazed with glistening caviar, and there was not a trace of truffle anywhere.