The bathroom was all white marble and chrome. Clinical. Cold.

Luca sat in a chair his men had dragged in, shirt removed, blood spreading across his chest in dark rivulets. The bullet had grazed his upper shoulder, deep enough to bleed heavily but not deep enough to kill.

Three guards remained, guns drawn, watching Aria like she might pull a weapon from thin air.

She washed her hands at the sink, her movements mechanical. First aid kit on the counter. Towels. Antiseptic. Everything laid out with precision her medical training demanded.

Her hands shook slightly as she gathered supplies. Adrenaline, not emotion.

She approached him like he was a dangerous animal. Which he was.

No words. He didn't speak. She didn't ask permission. Just started working.

Her hands steadied the moment she touched him. Training took over. Clean the wound. Apply pressure. Assess damage. The bullet had carved a furrow through muscle but missed anything vital.

Luca watched her face. Not the wound. Her. Looking for hesitation. Sabotage. Satisfaction at seeing him hurt.

She gave him nothing. Just worked with impersonal efficiency, her expression blank.

When she needed his arm moved, she didn't ask. Just positioned it. He allowed it without comment, his jaw clenched against pain he refused to voice.

The only sounds were her working, his controlled breathing, and guards shifting their weight.

She cleaned blood away with steady hands. Applied antiseptic without apology when he tensed. Packed the wound with gauze and wrapped it tight enough to slow the bleeding.

Not once did she meet his eyes beyond medical necessity.

Not once did he thank her.

Midway through her bandaging, the door burst open. The family doctor rushed in, black bag in hand, taking in the scene with practiced assessment.

"You did good work. Clean, efficient. The bleeding's controlled."

Aria stepped back without a word. Let the professional take over.

Luca didn't look at her. Didn't acknowledge she'd existed for the past twenty minutes.

"You don't need me anymore."

She moved toward the door. A guard blocked her path, looking to Luca for orders.

"Put her back in her room. Lock the door."

Not thank you. Not you can go.

Just an order to remove the tool that had served its purpose.

The guards escorted her down the hallway. Her hands were still covered in his blood, dark under her fingernails. They locked her door without a word.

Aria went straight to her bathroom and washed her hands. Once. Twice. Three times. Blood swirling down the drain in pink spirals.

Her hands started shaking. Delayed shock hitting now that the crisis was over.

She was still washing them when she heard commotion downstairs.

"Where is he? What happened?" Isabella's voice, shrill with panic.

"Miss Romano, the Don is with the doctor—"

"I don't care! I need to see him!"

Footsteps. Doors slamming. Then silence.

Twenty minutes later, Aria's door unlocked.

Isabella burst in like a hurricane, two guards following helplessly behind.

"Miss Romano, please—"

Isabella ignored them, her fury focused entirely on Aria.

"You. You were with him."

Aria was still in her blood-stained nightgown, exhausted down to her bones. "I stopped the bleeding. That's all."

"That's all?" Isabella stepped closer. "You think I'm stupid? I know what happens when a woman plays nurse. The gratitude, the vulnerability, the—"

"He didn't thank me. He didn't even look at me. He had me locked back in here the second the doctor arrived. So whatever fantasy you're building, stop."

Isabella's eyes dropped to Aria's nightgown. "You're covered in his blood."

"I haven't had a chance to clean up. Your dramatic entrance interrupted."

"You want to know what he said when I got there? When I tried to see him?"

Aria said nothing. Waited.

"He told me to leave. Said he didn't need me hovering." Isabella's smile was cruel. "But before I left, I asked him why he let you touch him. You. Castello's daughter. His enemy."

Aria's throat tightened. "What did he say?"

"He said, 'She was convenient. The doctor wasn't here. I would have let anyone stop the bleeding.'" Isabella's eyes glittered with triumph. "Then he told me you'd already been removed and locked away. 'Back where she belongs,' were his exact words."

The words hit like physical blows. Convenient. Anyone. Back where she belongs.

"So don't think tonight meant anything. You were a warm body with medical training. Nothing more. He used you like he uses everyone. And when he's done with you, you'll be disposed of."

"Is there a point to this, or are you just here to gloat?"

Isabella dropped all pretense. "The point is: stay away from him. You got to play hero tonight. Enjoy it. It won't happen again. And when this marriage ends, I'll still be here. I'm always here. You're temporary. I'm permanent."

"If you're so permanent, why are you in here threatening me at three AM? If you're so secure, why do you care what I do?"

Isabella's face twisted with rage. "Because you're in my house. In my place. Wearing my ring. Luca is mine. He always has been, he always will be."

Aria was exhausted. Done with this. But she'd learned something tonight at the gala. Small moves claimed ground. Truth was a weapon.

"Before you go, Isabella, one question." Aria's voice was calm. Cold. "When Luca was bleeding tonight, where were you?"

Isabella froze.

"You arrived after the doctor. After the crisis was handled. If you're so permanent, so essential to him, why weren't you there when it mattered?"

Isabella's mouth opened. Closed.

"I was convenient tonight. But you were absent. I wonder which one he'll remember."

"You little—"

"You can threaten me all you want. But we both know the truth. You had two years to become indispensable, and you failed. That's why you're here at three AM trying to intimidate me instead of upstairs with him."

Aria walked to her bathroom, then looked back. "Now get out of my room. I have blood to wash off."

She closed the bathroom door in Isabella's face.

Through the wood, she heard Isabella's sharp intake of breath. Footsteps. The door slamming.

Then silence.

Aria leaned against the sink, her heart pounding. That had been risky. Stupid, maybe. But she was so tired of being everyone's victim.

She stripped off the blood-stained nightgown with shaking hands. Stood in the shower watching his blood wash away. The water ran red, then pink, then clear.

But her hands kept shaking.

She dried off and pulled on clean clothes. Lay in bed staring at the ceiling where a camera watched her not break.

Her phone buzzed.

Unknown number.

Tonight was quite the performance. Playing the devoted little nurse. Very touching. But don't fool yourself—he sees you exactly as you are. Castello's daughter. A tool. Tools get discarded when they're no longer useful. Watch your back, little bride. This house has many sharp edges. —I

Aria stared at the message.

Isabella wasn't just jealous anymore. She was dangerous. And Aria had just escalated their private war.

But she'd also drawn a line. She wasn't going to be passive anymore.

It was risky. Maybe fatal.

But she was done being the only one who bled in this house.

She deleted the message and lay in the dark, his blood still under her fingernails no matter how much she'd scrubbed.

I saved his life tonight. And he didn't even say thank you.

I'm alone in this house full of enemies. The man who could protect me sees me as nothing.

But I'm not the helpless girl who walked into her apartment two weeks ago.

I'm learning. Watching. Adapting.

Tonight I proved something. I can fight back.

Even if it kills me.

She closed her eyes, exhaustion finally pulling her under.

And dreamed of blood on marble and a man who looked at her like she was both worthless and somehow worth saving.

Even if he'd never admit it.

Even to himself.