Chapter 3

I watched the video over and over again like I was torturing myself.

From the initial heartbreak to the point where I no longer felt the pain, I learned then that people really could become numb after enough hurt.

I suddenly realized that whether Demetrio married me or not didn't matter anymore. Who he chose, who he protected, and who he loved had nothing to do with me anymore.

I decided to let him be with Carlotta.

I packed my things bit by bit from the house I once called home. Clothes, jewelry, old photos, and the memories I had carefully kept all went into a suitcase.

As I stood at the door, holding the suitcase, I didn't even look back.

…

When I found Demetrio at the hospital, I didn't even have the chance to speak about breaking off the engagement.

"It was you, wasn't it?" Demetrio demanded.

His face was dark, and he grabbed my neck with such force that it felt like he was trying to choke the life out of me.

"Are you jealous that Carlotta's physically perfect, so you had someone hurt her?"

That was when I learned that something had gone wrong within the Farese family. Someone had targeted Carlotta.

Despite eight bodyguards and Demetrio himself protecting her, Carlotta's right hand had still been mangled beyond recognition.

Forced to tilt my head back, I stared at the face that had countless times whispered sweet promises to protect me forever.

Suddenly, I found it so absurd I almost wanted to laugh.

Apparently, in Demetrio's mind, I was so terrible that I could do something like that.

"It wasn't me." I forced those three words out.

Demetrio sneered, as if he didn't believe me at all. "Who else could it be if not you?"

His gaze landed on my hand, which had a missing thumb.

It was like he had finally found an outlet for his anger. His face darkened, and he grabbed my wrist with such force it bordered on cruelty.

He pressed down hard on the spot where my thumb used to be. That was the old wound from when I took the bullet for him.

"Ah!"

The pain exploded, unexpected and sharp. I bent over, nearly unable to stand.

It felt like my bones were being crushed and the old injury was being rubbed raw, sending waves of pain through me.

"Does it hurt?" Demetrio looked down at me, his voice chillingly calm. "Carlotta's pain right now is a hundred times worse than yours."

I looked up at him. My eyes were red, but I was unable to shed a single tear.

"She lost an entire hand," he said.

I finally struggled to pull my hand back. My arm was shaking violently. The old wound tore open, and blood seeped through my fingers.

It dripped on the floor, little by little.

Demetrio straightened his cuffs, his voice returning to its usual cold restraint. "Don't let me find out you have any ill intentions again."

He carefully took Carlotta's damaged hand with one knee on the ground. His movements were almost reverent, and his voice was low but firm. "Carlotta, will you marry me?"

Carlotta's eyes filled with tears. "But my hand…"

Demetrio looked up at her, his gaze tender beyond belief. "I'm marrying you because of who you are. It won't change because of anything else."

When he said those words, my world suddenly went silent because I had heard them before—those exact same words.

Years ago, when I lost a finger, I lay in a hospital bed, and my hand was tightly wrapped in bandages.

Demetrio had sat by my side, holding my hand with red-rimmed eyes. He said, "Lucia, once I've handled everything, I'll marry you. No matter what happens to you, I'll still want you."

Back then, I was shaking with pain, but I felt like the luckiest person in the world.

And now, he was in the same posture, using the same tone, and making the same promise. But this time, I wasn't the one he was making it to.

Demetrio took out a ring from his blazer pocket.

The next moment, he carefully slid that ring onto Carlotta's unscarred ring finger right in front of me. "I will marry you, Carlotta."

The room felt deafeningly still.

I looked down at my hand. The missing finger felt so empty.