Framed as a Gangster at My Girlfriend's House

I stood at Bianca Romano's doorstep, holding two boxes of gifts that weren't exactly expensive.

My palms were sweaty.

This was my first time visiting Bianca's parents.

Bianca opened the door, her eyes sweeping over the gift bags in my hands. She didn't say anything but just curled her lip slightly.

The room inside was full of people. Besides Bianca's parents, there was also a man in a floral shirt. That was her cousin, Antonio Esposito.

I greeted them with a smile. "Mr. Romano, Mrs. Romano, Antonio, Merry Christmas."

Bianca's father, Carlo Romano, grunted without even looking at me properly.

Her mother, Daniela Ferrara, went straight to the point. "Bianca tells me you're a security guard?"

I nodded and set the gifts down. "I work as a consultant for a security firm, where I'm in charge of conducting safety training."

"Sounds fancy, but isn't that just being a security guard?" Antonio said, lounging with his legs crossed, spitting watermelon seeds onto the floor as he ate.

Instead of arguing, I just smiled awkwardly. For Bianca, I was willing to endure this small slight. After all, my post-military job didn't exactly sound prestigious.

But I had my principles. Those past honors belonged to the country; they weren't personal trophies for me to flaunt.

The food was served, and the atmosphere was tense.

Trying to appear eager, I stood up to pour wine for Mr. Romano. As I moved, my sleeve rode up, exposing the winding, hideous scar on the back of my hand under the light.

It was the aftermath of a through-and-through injury. The flesh had curled back like an ugly centipede as it healed.

Antonio suddenly hurled his wine glass onto the floor.

Shards of glass scattered everywhere, startling everyone at the table.

Antonio pointed at my hand, his eyes as wide as saucers. "I knew there was something off about this guy! Look at his hand!"

Everyone's gaze fell on the back of my hand.

Bianca shrank back with fright, while Mrs. Romano's hand flew up to her mouth.

"Oh my, w-what is that?"

Antonio abruptly stood up and stomped one foot onto the chair.

"That's a mark of the mafia. A friend of mine who used to be in the mafia told me only members who've spilled blood earn a scar like that."

Spittle flying, he pointed at my nose and cursed, "Enzo Moretti, you'd better come clean—have you done time before? Did you get that scar in a mob fight?"

I frowned and pulled my sleeve down to cover the scar.

"Antonio, you've misunderstood. This is an old injury from before."

"Misunderstood, my ass!" Antonio yelled. "What normal person gets an injury like that? That's clearly from a machete! Bianca, are you trying to drive your parents to their deaths by bringing an ex-con home?"

Bianca went pale instantly. When she looked at me, her eyes were brimming with both terror and disgust.

"Enzo, tell me the truth—what exactly did you do for a living before?"

"I told you I used to be a soldier," I replied, looking straight back at her.

"As if a soldier could get a scar like that," Antonio interrupted with a cold laugh. "I bet you were a mercenary, the kind that gets paid to kill people."

Furious, Mr. Romano pointed a trembling finger at the door. "Leave! Get out of my house! Our family doesn't welcome shady people like you!"

I took a deep breath, suppressing the anger rising within me. "Mr. Romano, I have a clean record. This injury was—"

"Shut up!" Bianca suddenly screamed, violently shaking off my hand as if I were something filthy. "Enzo, I'm so disappointed in you. I can't believe you lied to me!"