Chapter 3

My last day. I was in my office, organizing the final transfer.

Four years of his life, documented. Every medical report. Every treatment protocol. Every prescription log.

I had to clean everything up. Leave no loose ends.

My phone vibrated. A text from Damien.

"Lafite from the cellar at the Swan Club. VIP 3."

Short. Cold. Like he was talking to a stranger.

I looked at the message and almost laughed.

Four years ago, when he first asked me to bring him wine, he used to add "thanks" at the end.

Now he couldn't even be bothered with basic manners.

I took the expensive bottle of Lafite and went to the Swan Club.

The door to VIP 3 was unlocked.

I pushed it open gently, planning to drop the wine and leave.

But the scene inside made me freeze.

Isabella was sitting on Damien's lap, pressed against his chest.

His fingers traced the diamond necklace at her throat. His focus was absolute. Like he was handling a priceless masterpiece.

"Does it hurt?" he murmured, stroking a tiny red mark on her neck. His voice was full of concern.

"A little," Isabella cooed, leaning into him. "The necklace got caught. It left a mark."

Damien tensed, inspecting the barely-there line.

"It's my fault," he said, kissing the spot. "I'll be more careful."

I stood in the doorway. The wine bottle nearly slipped from my hand.

How many times had I been hurt over the past four years?

When I took a hit for him during a rival family’s ambush, my face bruised and swollen?

He just tossed me a tube of ointment.

When I sliced my palm open on shattered glass in my lab, he didn’t even look up.

“You’re the doctor,” he’d said. “Handle it.”

When I dug a bullet out of his shoulder and nearly passed out from exhaustion, he never asked if I was okay. Not once.

And now he was acting like this over a tiny red mark on Isabella's neck?

"Here's the wine," I said flatly.

They both looked at me.

Isabella's eyes narrowed. "Who are you?"

“His private doctor,” I said, my voice flat as I set the bottle on the table. “The Boss requested it.”

Isabella studied me, her gaze turning dangerous. "Wait a minute... you're that princess from the Rossi family? Leo Rossi's sister?"

Before I could answer, a sharp nail raked my cheek. Pain exploded. A thin line of blood welled on my skin.

Damien shot to his feet, a flicker of shock in his eyes.

"Isabella, what the hell are you doing?"

But her eyes instantly filled with tears. She pointed at me, crying to Damien.

"The Rossi princess! She has everything, but she'd rather be your mistress."

"And you told me she meant nothing to you!"

The air went still.

Damien's complicated gaze flickered over me for a second. Then he gently pulled Isabella into his arms and kissed her tears away.

His voice was a frustrating mix of exasperation and adoration.

"Shhh, don't be scared. She's nothing. She can't hurt you."

Then he turned to me, his eyes cold as ice. "Even if she does like me... it's all in her head. Isabella, you have nothing to worry about."

A smirk flashed across Isabella's face. She snuggled into his chest.

"Then get rid of her! I don't want to see her again!"

Damien's brow twitched. He almost seemed to hesitate.

Seeing this, Isabella grabbed a cigar from the table.

Before Damien could move, she shoved the glowing tip of the cigar into the back of my hand.

The sick-sweet smell of my own burning flesh filled the air.

I gasped, instinctively trying to pull my hand back.

But Isabella was faster. She cried out first, pointing at her own slightly red fingers. "Ouch, it's hot! I was just offering her a cigar and she pushed me."

"Enough!" Damien finally snapped.

But his anger wasn't for Isabella. It was for me.

His eyes scanned right past the blackened burn on my hand.

"Elara! You've been with me for four years. Can't you handle a little jealousy? Or were you trying to hurt her?"

Before I could speak, Damien called for his right-hand man.

“Freeze all her payments from the gallery, effective immediately,” Damien continued, his voice devoid of any emotion. “And pull all funding for that medical conference she was supposed to present at. My family’s name won’t be attached to it.”

His man froze.

He glanced quickly at my disheveled state, then said carefully, "But, Boss, Miss Rossi... she's already engaged to the Moretti family..."