The grand room opened around me, heavy with cigar smoke and the low murmur of men who understood that the Old Don's birthday was as much a summit as a celebration. I sat down at the piano, my hands trembling as I placed them on the keys. The familiar melody began to flow, even as pain shot through my fingers with every movement. I had practiced this piece for weeks.

Now, I played it like a ghost.

All eyes were on me. I could feel them. The whispers. The curious stares. The quiet gasps at my appearance. Wives leaning toward each other. A soldier near the doorway shifting his weight, uncomfortable with something he couldn't name.

But I didn't stop. I couldn't stop.

When the final note faded into silence, I stood immediately and slipped away before anyone could approach me.

I needed air. I needed space. I needed to breathe.

And I needed Miso.

But before I could take more than a few steps into the garden, a voice stopped me.

"Seraphina."

I turned slowly, blinking back tears as I faced him. The only person in this house who had ever shown me even a fraction of kindness. He stood beneath the garden pergola, both hands resting on the silver head of his cane, watching me with eyes that had judged men for half a century and never once been fooled.

"Happy Birthday, Grandpa," I said softly.

He frowned deeply, his eyes scanning my face, taking in every bruise, every mark. "On my happiest day, you look the saddest. What happened?"

Before I could answer—

They appeared.

All six of them.

And Enzo.

My heart sank instantly.

Don Montecarlo's gaze shifted to them, sharp and questioning. "Did you attack Seraphina?"

Enzo sighed, already looking annoyed. "Seraphina, not tonight. I told you, we'd talk later."

The Old Don raised his hand, silencing him without even looking his way. "Kids?"

"It was just a prank," Nico said smoothly, without hesitation.

"Apologize," Don Montecarlo ordered firmly.

Gianna stepped forward, her expression shifting instantly into innocence, her eyes wide and soft. "We're sorry, Aunty Seraphina. We didn't mean it."

"Yeah, sorry," Matteo added quickly. "We even brought you a gift."

My body went rigid.

A gift.

Gianna held out a neatly wrapped red box, her smile sweet and harmless. "You'll love it," she said.

Every instinct in my body screamed at me not to take it.

Not to touch it.

But Enzo's gaze hardened, warning, pressuring. "They apologized, Seraphina. Don't be petty."