When They Met Again

Marco rushed into the hospital, his face pale with panic. "Please, somebody help us," he shouted desperately. "He's been shot in the arm and he is bleeding badly."

The medical staff immediately rushed over with a stretcher. They carefully lifted him onto it and hurried him toward the operating room.

Marco remained outside, pacing back and forth restlessly as he waited for news.

After some time, the doctor finally stepped out of the operating room. Marco hurried toward him at once. "Please, Doctor," he said anxiously. "Tell me, is he going to be okay?"

The doctor offered him a reassuring smile. "Yes, he's fine. Don't worry. We removed the bullet from his upper arm, and he's now out of danger."

Marco closed his eyes in relief and let out a long breath. "Thank God..." He looked back at the doctor. "What happens next? When can I talk to him?"

"He's still under the effects of the anesthesia," the doctor explained. "He should wake up in about half an hour."

"Alright. Thank you, Doctor."

"You're welcome. It's my duty."

Two hours later, Marco had given Marcello enough time to regain consciousness. He walked toward his room and knocked gently on the door before stepping inside. "May I come in?" he asked with a faint smile.

Marcello looked at him and let out a painful sigh. "Of course."

Marco walked closer to the bed and sat on the chair beside it. "I honestly don't know how to thank you. You saved my life and put yourself in danger for someone you didn't even know. I'll be grateful to you for the rest of my life."

Marcello gave a faint smile. "No need to thank me. I simply did what anyone in my place would have done."

Marco shook his head. "No. they wouldn't have. You're a rare person in this selfish world. I truly thank you from the bottom of my heart."

"You're welcome."

"How are you feeling?"

Marcello let out a groan. "It hurts a lot... but I'll be alright."

Marco smiled warmly. "Don't worry. You'll recover soon." He raised a hand to his forehead. "Oh. I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Marco De Santis." He extended his hand toward him.

For a brief second, Marcello hesitated. He looked at Marco's hand, and a faint hint of resentment crossed his face before he quickly hid it and shook his hand. "I'm Marcello Romano," he replied with a forced smile.

Marco nodded. "What do you do?" he asked curiously. "You were hitting the attackers so hard, as if you were very well trained in this."

Marcello leaned against the headboard of the bed. " Yes because I'm a professional bodyguard. I've worked for ten years with some of the biggest businessmen." he said proudly. He paused briefly before adding, "But I've been out of work for a month now. Still looking for a new position."

Marco raised his brows slightly. "Why? I mean, why haven't you been working for a month?"

A faint smile appeared on Marcello's lips. "I didn't like working for the last man I protected. He was a rude and unbearable man," he said.

Marco chuckled lightly at the way he described the man, though his thoughts shifted for a moment. "Do you stay with the person you're protecting all the time when they're outside?"

"Yes, of course," he replied.

"I'm glad you came at the right time," Marco said after a short pause.

Marcello looked at him with slight curiosity. "What do you mean?"

Marco smiled, but didn't answer directly. "I'll tell you tomorrow. I need to speak with my mom and sister first."

"Would you like some water?" Marco asked.

"Yes, please."

Marco reached for the table beside the bed and poured a glass of water. During that moment, a sly smile appeared on Marcello's face. "I know exactly what you mean, you fool. This is exactly what I planned," he thought.

----

The next morning, the family gathered around the dining table.

Monica kept her gaze on the table, her grip tightening slightly around the knife. Three days inside the mansion had already worn her patience thin. She cut into her toast a little too sharply, the knife scraping against the plate.

Everyone noticed her clear anger, but no one said anything, only exchanging glances, because they knew that talking to her wouldn't calm her down, and they wouldn't be able to convince Silvia to change her mind.

They heard Marco coming down the stairs and turned to look at him. His face was covered in bruises, making everyone stare at him in shock.

Silvia stood up at once.

"Marco! What happened? Are you alright?"

"Please, calm down, Mom," he said reassuringly. "I'm fine. I'll tell you everything that happened."

He sat down and continued.

"Last night, two men attacked me while trying to steal my car. Luckily, a man arrived just in time and saved me from them. Unfortunately, one of the attackers shot him in the arm, so I took him to the hospital."

"Oh my God! Is he alright?" Alessia gasped anxiously.

"Yes, Grandma. Thank God, he's alright."

"He told me he's a professional bodyguard who's been working in the field for ten years. He's highly trained," he added. He cleared his throat nervously and looked around the table. "I think we should hire him. I mean for Monica as her bodyguard"

Monica's eyes lit up with excitement. She turned to her mother. "That's a great idea, Marco. This way, I can go out again and get my life back, and you'll have peace of mind knowing I'm safe, Mom."

Silvia shook her head. "No. I don't like this idea. You still won't be safe enough. Anything could happen, just like what happened to him yesterday."

Alessia spoke calmly.

"Silvia, That was his fate. She can't stay locked up forever."

"I'm not staying inside anymore. I feel suffocated," Monica blurted out.

Silvia sighed, "Fine... but I want to meet him first."

Monica clapped her hands playfully. "Long live Mom!" she said jokingly, and everyone laughed, except Sophia, who gritted her teeth, hiding her anger and sadness.

---

Two weeks later, Marcello had recovered enough. That morning, Marco went to pick him up from the hospital, bringing him to the mansion to meet his mom and officially begin his first day of work.

The two of them entered the mansion's back garden, where Silvia and Alessia were already waiting. The moment Marcello caught sight of Silvia from a distance, he slowed down and stopped walking for a brief moment, 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 hand clenched tightly at his side as he fought to control 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 noticed that Marcello had drifted off, he rested a hand gently on his shoulder. "Are you alright?" he asked.

Marcello blinked and snapped out of his thoughts, his gaze lingering on Silvia for another 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 mother and grandmother were waiting. "Good morning, my beautiful ladies," he said with a broad grin.

Marcello stopped beside him like a statue, his gaze fixed on Silvia.

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

"Good morning, sweetheart," Silvia replied before turning her attention again to Marcello. "So you're the hero who saved my son?" Her eyes dragged over him from his head to his feet, carefully sizing him up.

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

Ma'am! He fought the urge to laugh. He could hardly believe he was addressing a cheap go-go dancer from a rundown nightclub with such respect. But 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 your courage. We don't even want to imagine what might have happened if you hadn't arrived just in time. 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 wiped away her tears.

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

"Of course, gratitude alone isn't enough," Silvia said as she leaned back in her chair and crossed one leg over the other. She picked up the envelope lying on the table and, with a look of arrogance, held it out to Marcello.

He cleared his throat. "What's this, ma'am?" he asked, frowning.

"One hundred thousand euros," she replied slowly, with a faint, crooked smile. "Consider it a reward for saving my son's life. Though, my son's life is worth far more than all the wealth in the world.

Money?! She was actually offering him money in exchange for saving her son's life. She measures everything by money. For a split second, he wanted to grab her by the head and slam it against the table.

He felt deeply insulted. But he reminded himself that he wasn't Adriano anymore. He was Marcello.

"Thank you, ma'am," he said calmly. "But I only did what was right. I can't accept money for it."

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Are you sure?"

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

"Marcello, but—" Marco began.

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

"Alright, as you wish," she said, tossing the envelope onto the table. "I'm sure Marco has already told you about what Monica is going through," she continued. "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. Marco also told me that you're highly trained in self-defense and martial arts." 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 we find the deranged criminal who's threatening her."

"She'll be down in a few minutes. You can wait for her inside," She added.

"I promise I'll do everything I can to protect her," he replied. "If you'll excuse me." He gave them a polite nod before walking back inside.

He waited for exactly five minutes. The soft click of her heels on the staircase reached him before she did. He looked up as she descended the stairs. By the time she reached the last few steps, he was already on his feet, walking toward her.

She was wearing a light pink tube top beneath an unbuttoned white shirt, paired with skinny blue jeans. Her hair was tied up in a neat bun, and a delicate butterfly necklace rested around her neck.

Her outfit was simple and casual, yet to him, she looked like sin itself. Beautiful and seductive in a dangerous way. But her beauty would earn no mercy from him. She was undoubtedly just another version of her mother.

He swallowed as she stopped in front of him, then gave a respectful nod. "I'm Marcello Romano, your new bodyguard, ma'am."

She narrowed her eyes, studying his features. There was something strangely familiar about him, as though she'd seen him somewhere before but she couldn't quite remember.

"Hello," she said, lifting her chin slightly. "I'm Monica. Monica De Rossi"

A polite smile touched his lips. "You have my word, ma'am. I'll do everything I can to keep you safe. I'd lay down my life to protect you if I had to." His voice was deep, smooth, and convincingly sincere. He wanted to win her trust and leave a good impression from the very first moment.

She slowly looked him up and down. "That's cute." Then She let out a mocking laugh.