Chapter--7

[Lena’s POV — Later, Mancini Mansion]

The corridor felt quieter than before or maybe…It was just me. Marie walked a step behind me, her heels softer now, as if even she didn’t know what to say after what we had just witnessed.

Neither did I, not that there was anything to say. I had already seen that scene before, many times in different timelines and different attempts with the same outcome.

The male lead, the heroine and the wife who stood in between them. Unwanted, irrelevant and disposable.

My steps didn’t slow, didn’t hesitate as if nothing had happened but behind me—

“…Miss Lena?” Marie’s voice came carefully cautious and testing.

I stopped not turning back.

“Yes?”

A brief pause and then she asked— “…Are you alright?”

The question hung in the air, soft and almost hesitant. I let out a quiet breath.

“…Why wouldn’t I be?” I turned slightly, glancing at her.

Her expression was unreadable but there was curiosity in her eyes. No...not curiosity, an expectation. She was waiting for something, shock, anger, tears or anything because that would be normal.

That would be expected but instead...I gave her a small, faint smile. “I would like you to continue showing the house Marie.”

Her brows furrowed slightly as if she didn’t quite believe me but she didn’t press further. “…Yes, miss.”

We continued walking and the silence returned but this time It felt heavier. When we reached my room, I pushed the door open slowly.

The familiar space greeted me, simple, quiet and empty. Just the way I preferred it.

I stepped inside. Marie remained near the door. "If you need anything—”

“Thank you...” She paused mid-sentence.

I turned to look at her. “…and thank you.”

For a moment, she simply stared at me, then nodded. “…Of course, miss.”

The door closed behind her, and just like that—I was alone again. I walked toward the bed and sat down slowly.

My gaze dropped to my hand, the ring still rested there, cold, heavy and unchanged. I turned it slightly, watching the diamond catch the light.

Then without hesitation—I pulled it off. The skin beneath felt strangely lighter and freer. I placed the ring on the table beside me.

The soft click echoed faintly in the quiet room.

“…There.” A small exhale left my lips. “That’s better.”

If the ring meant nothing to him then it didn’t need to mean anything to me either. I leaned back against the bed, closing my eyes for a moment.

Just for a second but then a sudden knock broke the silence, sharp and unexpected.

My eyes opened slowly. “…Who is it?”

No answer came only silence, then the door handle turned, and before I could react the door opened. Salvatore Mancini stepped inside, uninvited and unannounced. His presence filled the room instantly, cold, heavy and unavoidable.

His gaze moved immediately not to me but to the table, to the ring, the one I had just taken off.

For a brief moment something in his expression changed, subtle but there. Then his eyes lifted and locked onto mine, sharp and demanding.

“…What are you doing?” His voice was low and controlled but there was something else beneath it.

Something unfamiliar.

I met his gaze calmly. “Resting. Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do?”

The air between us tightened his eyes darkened slightly but he didn’t look away and for the first time It didn’t feel like hatred.

It felt like something else.

Something that hadn’t existed before, something that didn’t belong in the original story and that…was far more dangerous.

But strangely Salvatore said nothing about the ring, not immediately. His eyes lingered on it for only a second before he looked back at me, his expression turning cold once again.

Ah...there he is.

The familiar Salvatore Mancini, the emotionally constipated male lead.

“I’m not here to have some ridiculous husband-wife conversation,” he said flatly.

I almost scoffed out loud.

'As if I wanted one.'

Trust me, if there was an award for avoiding emotional conversations with Salvatore Mancini, I would personally win gold.

His sharp gaze narrowed slightly.

“I came here to warn you.”

Well...that sounded promising already.

“Do not involve yourself with the company.” His voice grew colder with every word. “And don’t you dare try taking the place that belongs to Clara.”

. . .

. . .

I stared at him...utterly dumbfounded. For a moment, I genuinely wondered if I had heard him correctly, because honestly—Who walks into someone’s room uninvited just to say something like that?

Was he insane? Or was this world slowly making me insane?

I mean seriously.

What place was I even trying to take? Employee of the month?

I blinked once, then twice...finally, I sighed internally.

Whatever.

“I see,” I said calmly. “And I understand.”

Simple and clear. No argument, no jealousy and no dramatic breakdown. Exactly the peaceful reaction he should’ve wanted.

And yet for some reason, Salvatore’s expression darkened further.

His brows furrowed slightly. “…That’s all?”

I tilted my head and was confused. “…Do you want me to say something else, Mr. Mancini?”

For a second, he just stared at me, then suddenly, he scoffed softly and ran a hand through his dark hair in visible irritation.

“They were right.” His voice sounded colder now. “You really are impossible to understand.”

I almost laughed.

Oh, I’m sorry. Would you prefer the crying version of Lena Carter? The desperate version? The one who chases you around like a tragic side character in love?

Unfortunately for him that Lena had died several timelines ago.

Salvatore’s gaze suddenly shifted, toward the table, toward the ring and without another word, he walked over and picked it up.

The diamond glinted coldly between his fingers, then his voice came low and sharp. “…You never deserved this.”

Before I could even process the sentence he turned around and—

SLAM!!!

The door shut so violently behind him that the walls almost shook.

Silence filled the room and I stood there, blinking and completely dumbfounded.

“…What exactly is wrong with him?” I stared at the closed door for a long moment.

Honestly—I should’ve been the offended one here, he barged into my room, threatened me. Accused me of stealing Clara’s place.

Insulted me, then stole the ring like some emotionally unstable mafia prince and somehow—He left looking offended.

How did that even work?

I rubbed my temple slowly.

“…No seriously. Is Salvatore Mancini mentally okay?” Then I sighed dramatically and fell backward onto the bed. “This family is exhausting.”

And for the first time since entering this novel I began to suspect something truly terrifying.

Maybe the male lead wasn’t cold and perfect, maybe he was just insane.