HER ONLY CRIME

Emilia~Gone was the dorky, playful, teenager I used to know. In his place was a brooding male, who exuded so much power and dominance. The last time I saw Marcelo was at his mother's funeral, here in Los Angeles. I heard he moved to Sicily, just the following week, and I never saw or heard from him ever since.Our parents used to be very close, and that was how we got to know each other in the first place. We were practically best friends, as we grew up together and even attended the same high school."How was your trip, Mr. Del Ponte?" My husband asked, breaking the long, awkward silence at the dinner table.I hadn't noticed how much I was staring, until Marcelo's eyes suddenly met mine, forcing me to look away. It was obvious he also recognized me, but chose to say nothing about it.He turned his gaze to my husband, who was sitting right beside me. The tension in the room seemed to get even thicker by the second."It was splendid. Right, boss?" One of the men who accompanied Marce

Emilia~"This might sting a little." Marcelo warned, as he held out an ointment to apply to my cut.His eyes held a lot of focus, as he inspected my injuries closely. It was almost laughable."It's okay. I'm used to it." I said, encouraging him to go on.I watched his jaw clench at my words. He was trying really hard to contain his anger, and I knew it. I saw it in his eyes.He looked like he wanted to say something at first, but decided against it."I promise, he isn't always like this." I blurted out, trying to break the uncomfortable silence.It was a lie though. Bronx had gone physical with me on more occasions than I could count. He just always has his ways of making me feel like it was all my fault.I knew he was probably combing through the city right now, in search of me. The thought of going back to my so-called husband, scared me a lot.Marcelo remained silent, as he worked on my wounds. He no longer had the angered expression on his face, making me wonder what was going on

Marcelo~She had seen my darkest side, a part of me I initially intended to keep from her. That was the perfect excuse for me to make her my prisoner. She belonged to me now."You look... stunning!" I said to her, as she stood in front of the mirror in a black, high-slit gown.Her brown hair was arranged in one messy bun, allowing unruly tendrils to cascade down her face.Her blue eyes met mine in the mirror, but she remained silent.Tonight we were attending a masquerade ball together, and I thought of it as the perfect opportunity to show her off as mine.I let my eyes roam the curves of her perfect, hourglass figure that was highly accentuated by her dress. One of my maids, Martha was still busy applying touches of makeup to her face, as she stood there."Leave us!" I said to Martha, who looked like she was about to protest, but thought better of it. Good for her!I waited till the latter was out of the room, before turning my full attention back on Emilia.She made to walk past m

Emilia~I was restless. Panic coursed through me, as I watched the scene unfolding before me.I knew I had to do something. I had to do something before they kill her in the process.Martha's feet were shaking in the air, as she struggled to breathe. She was tied to a chair, just like they did to Bronx. A towel was placed over her face, and Marcelo's men took turns pouring water onto the already soaked towel.Whenever they removed the towel, she would go into a fit of coughing and wheezing, before they would start all over again. Marcelo took sips of scotch whiskey, as he watched with glee. That sick bastard was enjoying this."Let her go!" I said, standing right in front of him. Despite the fact that I tried to appear bold, I was still so terrified on the inside."... please!" I added, hoping to at least, get some empathy out of him."This wasn't her idea, it was mine. I made her do this, and I should be punished instead."Marcelo let out a scoff, before focusing his green eyes on me

Emilia~Its been two days since I turned myself in, two days of being locked up in a holding cell, but I wasn't complaining. I was beginning to like it here.Here, I was definitely going to be out of Marcelo's reach. It was all I could ever ask for.My knees bounced nervously, and I resisted the urge to bite my nails, as I sat waiting in an investigation room. A detective was seated just across from me, sending a piercing gaze my way."So you killed someone?" He asked, and bit of skepticism in his tone."I did!" "...and when did this happen?" He asked again, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose."Just a couple nights ago." I answered him, as my mind flashed back to that night for a moment."Care to explain how it happened? Maybe tell me why you did it?" He pressed on.My eyes zeroed in on the ID card hanging from his left, breast pocket. I was able to read his name from there; Detective Jon. C. Grayson."I already told you guys before. I was drunk." I lied, not wanting to