I Took the Fall, He Took His Life

Don Timoteo Panno didn't look up as he wiped down his gun. "Whatever happens in court tomorrow, you plead guilty."

I watched his lowered lashes, my emotions churning. "To all the charges?"

Timoteo finally looked up to meet my eyes. "All of them, including anything that might be tied to me."

He said it so casually, as if he were telling me what he wanted for breakfast.

"Why?" I asked even when I knew I was in no position to.

Timoteo stood up and grabbed my chin roughly. "Nadia needs a fresh start. Don't forget. I'm the one who saved your life."

So that was it.

I was nothing but a disposable pawn. To him, my only purpose was to pave the way for the woman he truly loved.

"This is your last value."

I wanted to laugh, but my facial muscles were stiff.

For 12 years, I took on countless slanders for Timoteo, shouldering his dirty deeds one by one.

During that assassination attempt on the streets of Malora, I'd thrown myself in front of him, taking a bullet in my shoulder. The pain of that bullet still lingered deep inside.

In multiple life-or-death situations, as long as Timoteo was there, I would always turn my back to the enemy, giving him the chance to survive.

He'd said, "Fina, you're the one I trust the most."

It turned out that the one he trusted the most was the one most suitable for taking the blame.

"Okay."

Timoteo seemed taken aback for a moment.

Perhaps he expected me to fight back. After all, we had once been lovers who had weathered countless storms side by side.

But I didn't. I just accepted it quietly.

I left his room and headed back to my own.

As I passed Nadia Bellucci's room, the door was slightly ajar. The warm glow of the lamp and the sound of her soft laughter filtered out into the hallway.

"Why didn't you come see me? Did I have to call you to get your attention?"

Nadia was Timoteo's first love. Her voice was sweet, with a long, drawn-out end. It was almost coquettish.

I heard Timoteo give a low chuckle on the other end of the line, with a softness I'd never been lucky enough to hear before.

"What's the rush?" he asked, his voice thick with indulgence. "Miss me already?"

A helper chimed in from the side, "Ms. Bellucci, Don Panno canceled his important meeting in Sirithi tonight just to come back and be with you."

"I don't care," Nadia whimpered playfully. "I've been waiting forever. You need to hold me and comfort me…"

Before the voices inside could fade, my knuckles were already white from clenching so hard.

For 12 years, Timoteo never allowed anyone to disturb him while he worked.

Even if I were lying before him, drenched in blood, he'd just coldly order, "Drag her away and get her cleaned up."

It turned out that he was capable of being gentle, but that gentleness was never meant for me.

I ran back to my bedroom. The heavy door blocked out the sounds of the world. All I could hear was the pounding of my heart, echoing in my chest.

Twelve years ago, in that rain-slicked alley, Timoteo had reached out to me. He taught me how to fire a gun and corrected my posture step by step.

He told me it was the only way to survive in the mafia world.

Seven years ago, in Sirithi, I took a bullet for him. He swore he'd never abandon me and that he'd protect me forever.

Three years ago, I dismantled a rival's stronghold for him, barely escaping with my life.

That was the first time I saw Timoteo look vulnerable. He leaned down to kiss the tears from the corners of my eyes and told me I was the only one who could stay by his side.

It was that night he pressed his forehead to mine and said he was tired of the lies and the scheming and that I was the only light in his dark world.

It turned out that it was all a lie.

I was nothing more than a tool, meant to be discarded once I had served my purpose.