Nothing.
Absolutely fucking nothing.
It’s been a goddamn week since I hired someone to dig into her. One week of waiting, obsessing, stalking every second of her scripted, pathetic little life. And what did I get?
Nothing. Zilch. No dirty secrets, no lovers in the dark, not even a goddamn parking ticket.
She’s so plain it makes me want to scream.
Who the hell goes shopping for five hours every single day? And what is she even buying—souls? New personalities?
God, my blood pressure is going to give up before she does.
Her schedule was clockwork stupid:
Wake up at 11.
Dress up like a discount magazine model.
Go shopping.
Sip overpriced tea with plastic-faced friends.
Then go clubbing like she’s auditioning for a mid-life crisis.
And, of course, visits Enzo’s place now and then. Like a good little fiancée.
But guess what?
They have separate fucking bedrooms.
And not once—not even once—in seven days did she go to his room.
I could’ve screamed. I did scream. Into my pillow, into the walls, into the cold tiles of my bathroom floor. Because that? That was a win. A small, pathetic, spark-of-hope kind of win, but a win nonetheless.
Maybe—just maybe—he doesn’t love her the way he should.
So no. Not a total failure.
Next plan:
Make her cheat.
And oh, you’re going to love this one.
Drum rolls, please—
It was a bizarre disaster.
I hired someone—just to get some scandalous pics, some sweet little proof. Nothing criminal. Just a soft nudge into heartbreak.
And what did she do?
She called security.
Screamed like someone had tried to stab her. Made a goddamn scene.
But here’s where it gets twisted.
When I made the call to set it up… it wasn’t her first time hiring an escort.
Yes.
Let that sink in.
Not. Her. First. Time.
So why act all shocked and scared and offended?
Why act like you’ve never seen a stranger in your room before, Carol?
Hmm?
Maybe it’s just me.
Maybe I’m the only one who doesn’t flinch at Lorenzo Vitalio’s name. Maybe I’m the only one who isn’t scared of his temper. Of his rules. Of him.
And God, what a thrill that is.
I smirked.
Then laughed. That kind of manic, echoing laugh you hear in horror films. The kind that means something in you just cracked open.
I won’t let you go, Carol.
But… let’s be honest. You’re boring. Your taste is garbage. Your perfume smells like anxiety.
There’s only one good thing about you.
Him.
FLASHBACK
“Listen to me, my love. It’s not what you think—”
“What I think is none of your business anymore.”
I remember it too vividly. The way he barged in late at night—eyes bloodshot, face pale, a storm bottled behind his ribcage.
I was on the couch, watching a movie I wasn’t even following. He looked… exhausted. Torn.
No. No, Evelyn. Don’t soften. You’re angry.
He sat down in front of me like he had a right. Like he could just show up and be forgiven.
“Leave,” I snapped. “I’m not interested in your excuses.”
But he didn’t move.
So I did.
In my haste, my foot caught the corner of the rug. I stumbled. A vase crashed behind me, shattered into a thousand slivers. I barely noticed the pain until the glass tore through my skin.
I was falling. Into the mess. Into the sharp edge of my own mistake—
His arm wrapped around me.
We both fell. Hard. My hand scraped through the shards. His body crashed into the floor with a sickening thud.
“Ahh—”
“Let me see,” he said, reaching for my bleeding hand.
But I yanked it back like he’d burned me.
And I walked away.
He came after me. Fast. Like he couldn’t help himself.
“Princess! Wait! Bela! I’m sorry!”
I reached my door. Just as I was about to slam it shut, he blocked it with his body.
“I don’t want to talk to you!”
“At least listen! It’s not what you think!”
“Oh, please,” I shouted. “I thought you were family. But you’re just like the rest of them—just another liar who plays with emotions and walks away when it’s convenient!”
I was yelling, crying, shaking.
He reached for me again.
“Don’t touch me, Lorenzo!”
And I did the unthinkable.
I pushed him.
Hard.
He hit the door. His face twisted in pain.
I didn’t understand until I saw it.
Blood.
So much blood.
Dripping down his coat. Soaking through his shirt.
Glass shards. Bullet wounds.
“Oh God.”
I dropped to my knees.
“No. No no no. What did I do?! Nina! Lucas! Please—someone—HELP!!”
It was too late.
He lost consciousness in my arms.
He hadn’t even healed yet. He wasn’t supposed to be standing.
But he came for me. Even half-alive. Even with pain gnawing at his bones.
FLASHBACK END
Even then.
It’s been almost a month since that night.
Antonio had to send him to New York. Something dangerous. Something messy.
And we… we barely spoke.
Two syllables, maybe three, in passing. No glances. No warmth. Just silence. Bitter, unbearable silence.
He came back this Wednesday.
I didn’t visit. Not for two days.
But today—I had to.
He stayed at his private house in the city sometimes, but mostly at the villa.
Because I always made sure he did.
I smiled, remembering all the childish games I made him play just to keep him near.
That smile shattered when I heard the door open.
It was 1:30 in the morning.
I ran. Stupid, hopeful, reckless.
And then I froze.
He wasn’t alone.
She was with him.
Kissing him—no, devouring him. Like the parasite she is. A leech with expensive lipstick.
He hadn’t seen me yet.
But she had.
Her eyes met mine. And she smirked.
Mocking. Territorial. Vile.
He started unbuttoning his shirt. His bare back still carried the scars. The ones I gave him.
Guilt clawed its way up my throat like poison.
The image blurred behind tears.
And still, I couldn't look away.
The silence was too painful for me to endure. So got up and left him sitting there busy in his thouhts I closed the door behind me with a soft click. The sound felt final, like the closing of a book I didn’t want to finish but had no strength to keep reading. The lights were dim, casting long shadows across the floor as I climbed into bed, wrapping myself up in the same blanket I’d held onto earlier—hoping it would offer some kind of comfort again. But it didn’t. Not tonight. I lay still. Eyes open. Staring at the ceiling like it had answers. Why did I say that? Why did I ask about the engagement when I knew the answer would destroy me? I rolled to my side, pulling the blanket tighter against my chest as the sting of tears hit my eyes. I had tried. I had tried to be strong. To be okay with the way things were. To be mature, composed, quiet about the way my heart cracked open every time he called me “Bella” with a tone that meant everything and nothing. But it wasn’t workin
After dinner, he brought me to the hospital. Bandage on my both feet. My hands remained bluish purple. But the spot on my neck was a bit lighter. I related everything that happened to Enzo. He swore continuously but didn't say anything more. I was frightened and didn't want to return home. Antonio was not typically at home and Lily always had to go with him. Lucas was occupied with business travels. Enzo also did not want me to go, so I remained. I recovered my phone. Then I realized Sara tricked me, my phone was with her the entire time. I have been here for a week now but Carol did not come. I overheard him speaking to her on the phone. She wanted to come but he did not allow her. It was best. I do not wish to lose my peace. Ethan and his brother were both in prison. In certain cases of drugs. I knew it was Enzo's work. I heard Ethan was beaten up so severely in prison that he had 5 fractures and was now in hospital. I sat in the living room drinking hot chocolate
"Darling… it will all be okay."Rosie's voice trembled, a fragile note of warmth against the frigid terror still clinging to my skin like second flesh.Her aged hands stroked my back, shaky and slow, as if she thought she could rub the memories right out of me. Like the horror could be kneaded away with love and warmth.I couldn’t move.Couldn’t breathe right.Couldn’t feel my own body except where it ached.She placed a plate of sandwiches in front of me, the crusts trimmed just the way I liked. I stared at them. My stomach turned.Food felt… absurd. Alien.How could I eat when I still felt his hands?Ethan.Just the name sent bile racing up my throat.I sat there, stiff and silent. Eyes locked on the door.Waiting.Praying.And then—“EVELYN!”His voice cracked through the silence like thunder splitting the earth. Raw. Frantic. Real.I flinched so hard I dropped the teacup in my hand.The shatter echoed through the quiet.He was here.My lungs collapsed on themselves. I stood up too
No phone.No soul in sight.No shop. No light. No fucking hope.Black dots danced in my vision like they were mocking me—taunting me for ever thinking I was anything but breakable.I didn't know how long I walked. My feet were torn, flesh raw and slick with blood. My ankle screamed with every step.But then—A flicker.A fragile flicker of yellow light through the trees.My heart seized. Was it real?I staggered toward it, broken body dragging forward, praying it wasn't a hallucination.I limped faster.Come on… just a little more.“Fuck—!” I gasped as a shard jabbed straight into the arch of my foot. I wasn’t on any road. It was wilderness now. Stone. Glass. Twisted metal and discarded syringes.My vision blurred, pain pulsing like thunder.But I saw it.A bar.Rosie & James Bar—the letters barely lit, flickering like a dying breath.I shoved the door open. The musty scent of cigarettes and whiskey swallowed me whole.Few people inside. Fewer sober.I went straight to the counter, sw
A college friend invited me to a party. I wasn’t a party person—but still, I said yes. Lily didn’t even question it when I asked. She gave me permission with a soft smile, probably thinking I was just trying to live a little. Not knowing she was handing me the rope I’d hang myself with. I wore the most sinful thing I could find. Tight. Bare. Bold. Lips blood-red. Eyes defiant. And underneath it all— Something desperate. Unraveling. Enzo, you pushed me away. Now watch me leave. I looked in the mirror one last time. Blowing a kiss at my reflection like it didn’t already look a little cracked. A little lost. “I’m done waiting for you,” I whispered. “You can rot with Carol.” I lied to myself like it was a prayer. But it still felt holy. The house loomed like a monster in makeup. Flashing lights. Bass that rattled bones. It looked like a party, sure. But something about it felt… wrong. Like stepping into a movie right before the villain makes his grand entrance. The part
The city lights painted fleeting shadows across the car’s interior, my dress catching glints of gold as we drove under each streetlight.It was quiet. Not awkward—just full.Aaron glanced at me. “Hey.”“Hmm?”“You okay?” he asked, softer now. “Like, really okay?”I looked out the window for a second, pretending I wasn’t forming words that would hurt to say.“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Some days I think I’m over him. Others, it’s like he’s still… everywhere.”Aaron nodded, eyes still on the road. “Yeah. That’s how love works. It doesn’t let you unsubscribe that easy.”I smiled, bitter and fond. “You sound like an old man who’s had his heart broken ten times.”“Please. My heart is in mint condition,” he declared. “Except that one time in seventh grade when Amelia threw my valentine card in the trash. Still not over it.”I giggled. “You’re ridiculous.”“I’m hilarious. And I’m also the only one brave enough to drive you to a party where your almost-soulmate is probably pacing around like