Chapter 3

I was stuck in that sterilized hellhole for two weeks.

They took turns "watching" me.

Mom would swing by in her white coat, checking my vitals with those cold, surgeon's eyes before rushing off to a "surgical emergency."

Julian would stay for ten minutes, staring at his watch until a "urgent business" call saved him.

Even Lorenzo, the great Don Moretti, would just pat my hand, tell me I was a "brave girl," and disappear to his office.

I thought they were actually busy running an empire.

Until I shuffled out of the room at that afternoon.

Through the glass of the private recovery garden, I saw them.

The whole "busy" Moretti clan.

Lorenzo, the man who hadn't stepped into a kitchen in twenty years, was sitting on a bench, laughing as he carefully shelled clams and fed them to Sienna.

Isabella was fussing over a blanket, tucking it around Sienna's legs. With a look of pure, maternal adoration—a look I hadn't seen directed at me in years.

Dominic was holding a glass of Sienna's favorite juice like it was a holy relic.

And there was Julian. My husband. He was leaning over the wheelchair, whispering something into Sienna's ear that made her giggle.

She looked radiant. My heart—my actual heart—was pumping life into her cheeks, making her glow while I looked like a corpse dragged out of a basement.

"Careful, princess," Isabella whispered, her voice soft enough to break my heart all over again. "Don't eat too fast. Your new heart needs time to settle."

"But pop's cooking is so good," Sienna chirped, looking radiant. "I missed this so much while I was 'sick'."

I just stood there.

Clutching my cold IV pole, my stomach growling.

For the last days, I'd been eating lukewarm delivery soup I ordered myself on my phone. Not once had any of them offered me a bite of "Pop's cooking."

A surge of nausea hit me. I gripped my IV pole, steadying myself. For a second, I thought about walking in—sitting down at that table, making them see me.

But what was the point? They'd already shown me exactly where I stood—

I was nothing to them.

I turned to shuffle back.

But as I passed the nurse's station, I heard a low whisper.

"Is that the sister? The one in 402?"

"Yeah. Dr. Isabella gave me strict orders. Keep her on a heavy regimen of iron and vitamin B12. We're 'fattening her up'."

"Why? She actually looks like a ghost."

"It's the Don's orders. If Sienna has a rejection crisis, they aren't waiting for a donor. They're going to use the sister as a living blood bank. Total transfusion if necessary. "

"That's so cruel..."

"I know." The other nurse's voice dropped even lower. "But Dr. Isabella said she's just a 'vessel' now anyway—since she can't carry an heir. And Sienna? Dr. Isabella called her 'the precious little girl'. "

A metallic taste of blood surged up my throat. And the old memories came back—not gently, not asked for.

Just hit me like a wall.

I was ten, scraping my knee on the pavement. Isabella didn't call for a nurse. She knelt down, sterilized it herself, and cried over it. She also called me her "precious little girl."

Before all of this, all I'd ever heard was: trash, beggar, unwanted orphan.

I'd never had love like that before. And it hit me—so hard that I threw away the System's mission just to stay with them forever—my chance to return to my original world, gone.

For a long time, I thought it was a fair trade. Because my family loved me back just as much. Or so I told myself.

Back then, Dad was just a small-time soldier—but he built the Moretti Syndicate from nothing. Every rival he took down, every dock he seized—it was all for my medical bills.

And Dominic? My big brother used to spend his nights in the lab trying to synthesize "sweet medicine" for me because I hated the bitter taste of the standard stuff.

He never complained. Never asked for thanks. Just brought me bottle after bottle, asking, "Is this one better?"

They even saved Julian for me. Plucked him from a rival's hit when we were kids — just so I'd have my "perfect prince".

The whole Syndicate knew: I was the untouchable princess. Loved like something sacred.

But destiny is a bitch.

I was snatched away. Trafficked by a rival crew. Seven years in the dark.