The night before our engagement party, I found an adoption agreement tucked inside the breast pocket of Cassian Montero's suit jacket. He had adopted Ron Montero—the son of his late brother, Domenico. I slammed the papers on the table and demanded an explanation. Cassian smoked on the balcony all night. Just before dawn, he came inside, his voice raw: "Domenico died protecting me. I owe him my life. His child can't grow up without a father." I understood immediately. He wasn't going to budge. He wasn't even sorry. Even though he was the one who'd broken his promise first. Eight years together. From when he was nothing more than a low-level errand boy under Don Salvatore Caruso, to now, second-in-command of the family—we'd been at each other's side through all of it. I was a board-certified surgeon. For him, I'd walked into a world drenched in gunpowder and blood, against my parents' wishes, against everyone's warnings. He had sworn that no matter what, I would always come first. But now he was telling me that for a dead man's child, I should step aside. I refused to accept it. I clenched my jaw, put on my dress, and went ahead with the engagement ceremony as planned. Everything went smoothly. The exchange of rings, the speeches, the toasts. Until Enzo's phone started buzzing frantically in his pocket. He was Cassian's childhood friend and his most trusted man. He answered. The color drained from his face. Then he stood, cut quickly through the crowd, and leaned close to Cassian's ear, his voice shaking: "Boss, Vittoria says the boy has no father—she doesn't want to live anymore. She's taken Ron up to the rooftop." In an instant, Cassian's champagne glass hit the table with a crack. My entire family, flown in from the States, and his sparse crew of syndicate brothers all stared at one another in stunned silence. But he didn't notice any of them. He was already heading for the door. I called out to him, my eyes burning: "Cassian Montero." "If you walk out that door tonight, you're dead to me." My voice was almost a scream. His step faltered for one second. Just one. Then he was gone. The music stopped. Every pair of eyes in the room swung toward me like spotlights. My mother's tears were already brimming; my father's face had gone an iron shade of blue. "What is this? He just—left? For some woman?" My mother's voice trembled. I walked down the steps and set my champagne glass back on a passing tray. The motion was gentle. My hand was still shaking. But my voice had already gone calm. "Mom, Dad, I'll take you back to the hotel." "The engagement is off." Enzo was still rooted to the spot, guilt written all over his face. "…Sera, I didn't mean for this to happen—I was just afraid someone might actually die—" I looked at him. Said nothing. Enzo and Cassian had grown up on the same street. Domenico's widow, Vittoria, was family in their eyes—someone they were duty-bound to protect. But this particular family member had chosen this exact moment to threaten to jump off a building. I helped my mother to her feet and walked out of the banquet hall. My phone buzzed over and over inside my bag. I knew it was Cassian. He would apologize, explain how fragile Vittoria's mental state was, how he'd had no choice. Eight years. I knew him too well. Three years ago, he and Domenico had been betrayed by a mole and trapped inside an abandoned car factory. In the chaos, one of the Don's confidants had shoved Domenico clear—that was the only reason they'd made it out alive. Afterward, though Cassian had the man executed, the debt still crushed him. So I learned to be understanding. Understanding when every spare moment went to visiting them. Understanding when our holiday dates always turned into dinners for four. It wasn't until he tried to put that child under his own name that I realized everything had already gone off the rails. I changed clothes and drove to the hospital where I worked. It was the nearest hospital. Vittoria would certainly be brought there. When I reached the infirmary, Cassian was holding Ron. Vittoria was wrapped in a blanket, leaning against his arm, her eyelids swollen, her nose red. A nurse was taking her blood pressure. Cassian looked up when he saw me. He stood, the child still whimpering softly in his arms. "Sera… I'm sorry, tonight—" "Is everyone all right?" I cut him off. My gaze went past him and landed on Vittoria. "She's fine now. The boy was frightened—low-grade fever, but no injuries." "Good." I nodded and turned to leave. "Sera—" Cassian freed one hand and caught my wrist. "Don't do this. Domenico died to protect me. I can't just abandon them. She's alone with the child, no one to lean on—" "I never said you couldn't take care of them." I shook his hand off. "I've just realized that everything between us seems to matter less than a widow you've known for three years and her son." "They almost died!" "Your men told me they hadn't even made it to the staircase." Cassian's jaw tightened. He stared at me, his lips moving, but not a single word came out. Then Vittoria stumbled over, her voice thin and fragile: "Dr. Aldridge… I'm so sorry, this is all my fault… I saw your engagement ceremony and it reminded me of Domenico… I couldn't control myself…" She shrank behind the blanket, crying so hard her entire body swayed. Cassian immediately handed the child to Enzo and reached out to steady her. "Don't—it's over now. You need to rest." He eased her back into a chair, and when he looked up at me, his eyes held nothing but reproach. "Sera, she's a single mother. She's my family. Can't you show a little compassion?" I didn't answer. I turned and walked out of the infirmary. It wasn't until I rounded the corner that I realized my hands had been shaking the entire time.
The next morning, Cassian appeared at my apartment door holding a paper bag. Inside were an almond croissant and a latte from my usual café. He remembered how I liked them. He'd remembered for eight years. He held the bag out. "Sera, I was up all night thinking about what happened. Let me make it up to you, okay? We'll redo the engagement." I leaned against the doorframe. I didn't let him in. "Redo it? And what if she 'suddenly'—'can't control herself' again?" "Am I supposed to stand there with my family and be humiliated in front of everyone a second time?" He was quiet for a few seconds. When he spoke again, impatience had already crept into his voice. "Then what do you want? It's done, Sera. I know you were hurt, but Vittoria just lost her husband—she's raising a child all by herself." "And last night she was in complete mental breakdown. She didn't pick that moment on purpose. Can't we just be a little more understanding?" That word again. I took the bag and set it on the console table by the door. "Fine. You should go. They need someone taking care of them." Cassian exhaled in relief, apparently thinking I'd come around. "I knew you'd understand. Don't worry—once things settle down, I'll make it up to you properly." He left. I threw the bag of breakfast, untouched, into the trash. I put on my white coat and went to work. Rounding the corner of the pediatric wing, I saw Cassian. He was carrying Ron. Vittoria trailed close behind him, one hand hooked around his elbow, her face tight with worry as she spoke to a nurse. The three of them walked together like a complete family. Cassian spotted me. His expression froze for an instant. Vittoria immediately lowered her head, pulling her hand away from his arm. I didn't slow down. I walked straight to my office. That afternoon, my mentor, Dr. Hargrove, came to find me. "Sera, there's a child with what looks like a cardiac issue. Pediatrics wants you to consult." "I'm in thoracic surgery, not pediatric cardiac." "I know. But you're the best this hospital has, and the case is complicated. Do me a favor." Dr. Hargrove was the man who'd built my career from the ground up. I couldn't say no. Two bodyguards stood outside the VIP suite, checking my badge carefully before they opened the door. I stepped inside. Ron lay in bed, his skin a waxy yellow. Vittoria sat at his bedside and, seeing me, immediately started to cry again. "Dr. Aldridge, please—save Ron… He's all Domenico left behind…" I opened the test results. Congenital ventricular septal defect. The opening sat dangerously close to the major vessels and the conduction bundle. "What's the surgical risk?" Cassian stood by the window, his voice low. "Approximately thirty percent intraoperative mortality." I closed the chart. Vittoria collapsed to the floor. Cassian crossed the room in one stride and caught her, then turned to me. That look—I knew it well. Absolute. Unyielding. "Seraphina, you're doing this surgery. And it has to succeed." My tone was flat. "Cassian, I'm a doctor, not God. I can't guarantee the outcome." "I don't care!" His voice rose sharply. "Domenico died because of me! I have to keep his son alive! If you're not confident, then bring in the best specialist in the country!" Every pair of eyes in the room was pinned on me. Then Vittoria crawled up from the floor and seized the hem of my white coat with both hands. "Dr. Aldridge, I know you hate me… hate me for ruining your engagement… If you want to hate someone, hate me—Ron is innocent. You can't hold back because of what I did…" Her words were like shards of broken glass, each one embedding itself under my skin. Whispers from the corridor washed in like a tide. "Isn't that her? The doctor whose fiancé abandoned her at the engagement party—" "God, this is going to be ugly. You think she'd sabotage the surgery out of spite…?" Cassian's expression shifted in an instant. His face went ashen. He fixed his eyes on me and spoke one word at a time: "Seraphina, if you let anything happen to this child because of some grudge, I will never forgive you." My heart sank below freezing. He had just threatened me. In front of everyone. I looked at him. Then at Vittoria, still on her knees. And I smiled—faintly. "Fine. I'll do the surgery." I paused. "But you're signing a liability waiver. And I'm reporting the surgical risk level to the hospital administration and notifying every relevant department to prepare for the worst-case scenario." "I want every single person to know that this surgery was done at the demand of Cassian Montero. If the child dies on the table—you bear the consequences. All of them. Alone." Cassian's fists clenched at his sides. His knuckles cracked. He stared at me, disappointment and fury churning in his eyes. "Seraphina Aldridge, I never knew you were this kind of person." "Now you do." I slapped the chart against his chest—he instinctively stepped back half a pace. "Make up your mind and go file the paperwork." I turned and walked out of the room, my eyes so dry they could have cracked and spilled tears at any second. But they didn't.
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