Would She Remember Him?

They say true love has the power to heal even the deepest wounds, but what happens when the family of the woman he is destined to love is the very reason those wounds exist?

Will she be the one to heal the wounds that have never truly closed, or will her very presence only feel like salt being rubbed into them?

For him, love had lost all meaning. It was the last thing he was looking for right now. He had returned to Milan, the city where his life and his family's world had been destroyed twenty years ago, with only one goal in mind: revenge.

And now, he was heading to his enemies' lair, no longer as Adriano De Santis, but under a fake identity: Marcello Romano, a professional bodyguard.

Marcello was staring out of the car window while his half-brother, Marco De Santis, drove, perhaps unaware that he had a brother in this world, let alone that he was sitting right beside him.

Marcello was lost in thought about everything he had planned, but the most important thing of all was Monica De Rossi, his stepsister, the daughter of that damned woman.

He would never forget that day, the day he hired a private investigator to gather information about them. When he saw her picture for the first time, he could hardly believe his eyes. She was the same woman he had met two years ago on the beach in Viareggio, the woman he had felt deeply drawn to and had never been able to forget since that night. And now, he had discovered that she was the daughter of his greatest enemy. What a cruel twist of fate.

"We've finally arrived at the mansion."

Marco's voice pulled him out of his thoughts. He turned to look at him just as Marco's eyes drifted to the sling supporting his injured arm.

"Does your wound still hurt?" Marco asked, concern evident in his voice.

"A little, but I'll be fine."

Marco let out a small sigh. "I wanted you to recover completely before starting work for my sister. It's only been three weeks since your injury." A faint, helpless chuckle escaped him. "But if Monica stays in the mansion for another day, she's going to explode at all of us."

The amusement in his eyes faded, replaced by fear. "My mother has strictly forbidden her from leaving the mansion ever since that damned death threat. We're all really scared for her."

Marcello placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry. As long as I'm with her, she'll be safe." He nodded slightly. "And your mother is right. Your sister should never take something this serious lightly."

"Yeah, but you don't know Monica." Marco chuckled softly. "She's..." He trailed off, a smile appearing on his lips. "You know what? I'm not going to tell you anything about her. I'll let you find out for yourself." He pointed a finger at him playfully. "But promise me you'll have enough patience with her."

Marcello raised an eyebrow and laughed quietly. "Now you're starting to scare me."

Marco chuckled. "No, no, don't be." He waved a dismissive hand. "She's just incredibly stubborn and very moody..." A fond smile crossed his face. "But she's also very kind."

"Now you've made me curious. She sounds... interesting," Marcello said, his mind briefly returning to the night he had met her.

Marco's lips curved slightly. "That she is." He pushed the loose strand of hair away from his forehead, his expression growing serious.

"Thank you, Marcello. I truly mean it. I'll be grateful to you for the rest of my life. You saved me from those bastards who attacked me and tried to steal my car. If you hadn't happened to pass by at that moment, I honestly don't know what would have happened to me. Maybe they would have shot me like they shot you... or perhaps they would have killed me."

"You've thanked me for that for the thousandth time, Marco," Marcello said jokingly.

"I'll never stop thanking you for this. You saved me even though you didn't even know me, and you ended up taking a bullet because of me. If anything had happened to you, I would have never forgiven myself."

Marcello nodded. "I'm fine, Marco." He glanced at the mansion gate, then looked back at him. "Are we going to stand here all day? Aren't we going in?"

Marco chuckled and started the car. "You're right. Let's go in."

~~~

After they got out of the car, they made their way to the mansion's back garden, where the family was already waiting.

The moment Marcello caught sight of Silvia, his stepmother, from a distance, he slowed his steps and froze, as if unable to move forward.

Memories of the past surged through his mind, and Silvia stood at the center of them, the villain of his story.

His fists clenched tightly at his sides as he struggled to suppress the anger rising within him. He had no idea how he was supposed to endure seeing her every day for the months ahead.

When Marco saw that Marcello had stopped moving, he rested a hand gently on his shoulder. "Are you alright?" he asked.

Marcello blinked, snapping back to reality. His gaze lingered on Silvia for a brief moment before he cleared his throat. "Yeah. I'm fine. My arm just started hurting all of a sudden," he muttered. "Let's keep going."

Marco nodded and continued walking beside him until they reached the table where his family was seated. "Good morning, my beautiful ladies," he said with a broad grin.

Marcello stopped beside him, his gaze fixed only on Silvia.

Time had left its mark on her, but it hadn't changed her features. She still had the same red hair, the same wicked eyes, and the same devilish smirk on her face as she looked at him right now. She looked like an evil witch who had just crawled out of hell.

"Good morning, darling," Silvia replied.

Marco turned to him. "Marcello, I'd like you to meet my family." He gestured toward them one by one. "My mother, Silvia, my grandmother, Alessia, my sister, Maria, and my cousin, Sophia." Looking back at him, he added softly, "They're the most important people in my life, and of course, Monica is one of them."

Marcello gave them a polite smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you all."

"So you're the hero who saved my son?" Silvia said, her eyes scanning him from head to toe, carefully sizing him up.

"Yes, ma'am," he answered politely.

Ma'am! He fought the urge to laugh. He could hardly believe he was showing respect to someone like her, a cheap go-go dancer from a notorious nightclub. Still, he would endure it. For his mother's sake and for his revenge.

"We're truly grateful to you, my son," Alessia said warmly. "No amount of gratitude could ever repay what you've done for us. We don't even want to imagine what might have happened if you hadn't arrived just in time."

"Look at him," she continued, her eyes moving to Marco. "His face is covered with bruises. My grandson could have been..." Her voice broke before she could finish. Tears welled in her eyes. She reached for a tissue from the box on the table and quickly wiped away her tears.

"Oh, Grandma, please, don't cry." Marco walked over, wrapped his arms around her shoulders from behind, and kissed the top of her head.

"Of course, gratitude alone isn't enough," Silvia said, leaning back in her chair with one leg crossed over the other. She took an envelope from her bag, pulled out a check, and tossed it onto the table in front of Marcello with a look of arrogance.

His expression hardened as he looked at the check. "What's this?" he asked, frowning.

"A check for one hundred thousand euros," she replied slowly, with a faint, crooked smile. "Consider it a reward for saving my son's life. After this, we won't owe you anything.

For a split second, he wanted to grab her and slam her head against the marble table. How dare she humiliate him like that? How dare she throw the check in front of him with such arrogance?

And money? She was actually offering him money in exchange for saving her son's life. Did she really think her son's life had a price?

He felt deeply insulted. But he reminded himself that he wasn't Adriano anymore. He was Marcello. So, there was no need to take such an insult personally.

He cleared his throat. "Thank you," he said calmly. "But I only did what my humanity compelled me to do. I can't accept money for it."

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Are you sure? This is a check for one hundred thousand euros. Do you even realize how much money that is? An amount like this could support you for a whole year without you needing to work."

He nodded. "Yes, I'm sure."

"Marcello, but..." Marco began.

"Please, don't insist," Marcello interrupted gently.

"Alright, as you wish," she said, taking the check back. "Marco told me that you're a professional bodyguard with ten years of experience, highly trained in self-defense and various combat techniques."

"Yes, ma'am."

"You must already know what my daughter is going through. I would never have agreed to let her go anywhere with just any bodyguard. But I trust you'll protect her the way you protected my son." She sighed, brushing her hair back. "Your job, Marcello, is to stay by my daughter's side like her shadow. Never take your eyes off her until the police find the deranged criminal who threatened her."

"I promise you, Mrs. De Santis, I'll keep her safe," he said confidently.

"My sister is so kind. She never hurts anyone. Why would this criminal want to kill her?" Maria said, tears stinging her eyes.

Sophia let out a sarcastic laugh. "Every sister likes to believe that her sister is an angel. That doesn't mean she really is."

"Shut up, Sophia!" Silvia spat. "I don't want to hear another word from you. Go to your room. Now."

Sophia's expression darkened as she clenched her teeth before getting to her feet and walking away.

Silvia looked at Marcello again. "Are you sure you'll be able to protect my daughter while you're still wearing that sling?"

"Don't worry. My arm has recovered well, and I'll take the sling off in two days. It won't affect my ability to protect your daughter."

She sighed softly. "Okay, Monica will be down in a few minutes. You can wait for her inside."

"Alright." He gave them a respectful nod before walking back inside.

~~~

As he waited for Monica on the sofa, his eyes wandered around the massive mansion. Luxury filled every corner of the place, from the expensive furnishings to the elegant décor. Polished marble floors stretched beneath his feet, while large crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceilings.

A deep bitterness settled over him. How could Silvia and her children have lived in such extravagant wealth all these years, enjoying the fortune that had once been his mother's, while she had lived in extreme poverty after his father, that despicable bastard who had once been nothing more than an employee at her company, had betrayed her with Silvia?

Together, they had secretly conspired to strip her of everything she owned by tricking her into signing documents that made her lose everything, leaving her with nothing but the clothes on her back and forcing her out onto the streets.

How could this woman live in comfort while his mother had worked two jobs just to give him a better life when he was a child?

How could this woman enjoy such a peaceful life while his mother had died after many years of heartbreak and emotional devastation, her health destroyed by the pain she carried from that betrayal?

She had died because of them. And now, he would not leave this damn mansion until he had destroyed them all and taken back everything that had once belonged to her.

For the first time, he wished his father were still alive, because if he had been, Marcello would have burned him alive.

The soft click of heels against the staircase pulled him out of his thoughts. He immediately looked up, and for a moment, everything around him seemed to fade. It was the same goddess of beauty he had met before on the beach, the woman with the mesmerizing blue eyes and fiery red hair. It was Monica.

He still remembered every inch of her face. But would she remember him?