Chapter 3

Sometime in the middle of the night, a sudden, violent spasm gripped my stomach. The pain was so intense that even breathing hurt.

My first instinct was to call out for Ronaldo, but the memory of his cold indifference just before he closed the door flashed through my mind.

Gritting my teeth, I forced myself to reach for the bedside drawer instead. However, the nightlight got knocked over, and I tumbled out of bed.

The room's main lights flickered on, and a tall, slender figure loomed over me.

"You knew that you had a delicate stomach. Why were you so stubborn about not eating anything?"

I squeezed my eyes shut. I really didn't want to hear another lecture.

The next second, Ronaldo scooped me up and laid me back on the bed. He brought a glass of warm water to my lips and said, "Be good and take your medicine first."

His tone was so gentle it felt unreal.

"You shouldn't gamble with your health, even if you just wanted to get my attention."

As he spoke, he rubbed his hands together to warm them, then placed them on my upper abdomen, massaging it slowly and ever so lightly in circular motions.

Looking at the man before me, his face etched with genuine concern, tears welled up and spilled over without warning. However, I couldn't tell if I was moved or simply feeling aggrieved.

"There, there. You're a grown woman now, yet you're still a crybaby," he cooed. "Get some sleep. I'm going to make you some cream of corn soup. I'll wake you up when it's ready."

He stood up, tucked the blanket snugly around me carefully, and stepped out, his movements soft and quiet.

I didn't know how long I slept, but I was eventually roused by Ronaldo.

The air was still filled with the creamy aroma of the corn soup, but his expression had grown noticeably colder.

"Have some soup."

His tone was back to its usual icy stiffness, as if the tenderness from earlier had been nothing more than a dream. Confused, I picked up the bowl of corn soup. But just as I brought a spoonful to my lips, he spoke again.

"Why did you put your name on Helena's work and enter it into the design competition?"

I froze, my mouth still slightly open, my face a mask of utter bewilderment.

"What work?"

Ronaldo let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "I thought you were just prone to petty tantrums and a desire for the spotlight. I had no idea you were also so skilled at playing the fool."

He pulled out his phone and thrust it in front of my face.

A jewelry design sketch appeared on the screen.

I was even more bewildered. This was clearly my own work.

"But this is actually—"

"Enough," he snapped. "I was hoping to resolve this calmly, but instead, you'd rather make excuses. You know perfectly well that Helena is completely isolated in her family. She was counting on this award to help her seize control of her Famiglia's jewelry business.

"Yet, just to grab some attention, you went and tampered with her design. Since when did you become so cunning and malicious?"

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "Me? Cunning and malicious?"

He was so convinced that I was obsessed with being the center of attention that he hadn't even stopped to consider why I had pressured Papa to hand over that high-stakes partnership to Helena. Otherwise, how could he possibly believe I would ruin her career just for the sake of a jewelry competition?

Ronaldo let out a cold, mocking laugh. "Isn't it true? You're her only friend. She shares everything with you. You're the only one who could have had access to these materials.

"Liliana, I've accepted every one of your flaws. Even when you lied about being followed, or getting trapped in a mudslide—even lying and telling me Anda was dead—I chose to look the other way. But now, you've gone and destroyed Helena's future just to show off."

"Even if I were willing to overlook this, the Brunelli Famiglia would never tolerate a woman of such poor character as their Donna. You have six days to fix this, and fast."

My hands trembled with rage, and I tried to stop him, my voice weak. "Ronaldo, how dare you slander me like this?"

Ronaldo didn't even acknowledge me. He simply called the event organizers for the jewelry competition and walked straight out.

Feeling a crushing tightness in my chest, I stood up and dragged my luggage toward the exit. However, the moment the door opened, the blinding flashes of the media's cameras seared my eyes.

"Signorina Cirillo! Is it true that you've been cast out because of your poor moral character? Or are you running away on purpose, just to garner some sympathy?"

"Is your mind so twisted because your boyfriend realized that your best friend is actually better than you?"

"Word is you're always posting things just to grab attention. Don't you think that's incredibly pretentious of you?"

Caught off guard by the barrage of attacks, I found myself unable to retort at all. Instinctively, I turned back inside and braced my body against the door.

Ronaldo was standing right there, his arms crossed, watching me with a cold, detached gaze.

"It looks like this little lesson was effective. Don't let this happen again," he said. "I'll have those people cleared out, but consider this a one-off warning."

I would never give him another chance.