Poisoned Passion: Burn From My Love

Three years into my marriage to Salvatore Russo, I received a private video. It was sent by Rosa Conti, the same spy who had drugged him three years ago.

At that moment, the video replayed. I stared at the two bodies entwined on screen, biting my lip until I tasted blood.

For the past three years, Salvatore had taken good care of Rosa. The scars she had borne as punishment for betrayal had been smoothed away by surgery, and the deepest lash on her back had been transformed into the stem of a red rose.

On the screen, Salvatore hovered over her, lowering his head to kiss the petals.

"Rosa," he murmured. "I've thought about you every second of every day for the past three years."

Every second of every day, huh? Funny, because just yesterday, he had held me in his arms, our bodies tangled beneath the sheets.

On the nightstand beside the bed sat our wedding photo. Salvatore took it everywhere he went, saying it was his lucky charm.

Now, the same picture was spattered with white stains.

My chest clenched in pain, but I forced myself to keep watching. I wanted to see just how long he could keep up the act.

When it ended, Salvatore rose and headed for the shower.

A beat later, Rosa turned to the camera, a triumphant smile curving her lips.

"So, Arianna, do you remember when you had me whipped 81 times in your family's dungeon? Call this payback. It hurts, doesn't it? Just wait. This is only the beginning."

With that, she winced and gasped in pain. Salvatore immediately rushed out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist.

Then, I watched as those strong arms wrapped around another woman.

The video cut off abruptly. The last frame showed Salvatore looking in the direction of the camera, his eyes filled with worry for Rosa.

That look hit me like a bullet to the heart.

I remembered the morning three years earlier, the day after I had saved Salvatore from that aphrodisiac.

I was trembling all over, every muscle aching. Still, I insisted on seeing what they had done to the spy who had tried to kill him.

Without a word, he swept me up in his arms and carried me to the family's dungeon.

There, Rosa was shackled in iron chains. Her hair was a tangled mess, and her body was streaked with bloody welts.

When she saw me, her face contorted with rage. She thrashed and screamed, "Arianna Moretti, you bitch! You'll pay for this!"

I flinched, but Salvatore stepped in front of me before pressing a kiss to my forehead.

"Don't look at her, principessa. You don't need to see something that filthy. Let's go," he had said.

Just before we left, Rosa's hoarse, savage roar pierced my ears again. "Arianna, I'll make you pay with your blood!"

I shuddered, and Salvatore's grip on my hand tightened. "It's okay. I'll protect you with my life."

Salvatore had been one of the many orphans my father took in and trained. He was striking, extremely capable, and quick to earn my father's admiration.

For over a decade, he had risked his life for our family. Step by step, he worked his way up to underboss and was seen as the Don's rightful successor.

However, before my father died, he had warned me, "Never trust anyone, Arianna. Not even Salvatore. Use him if you must, but never let him hold power over you."

I barely had time to process my father's words before a rebellion erupted within the family. Salvatore had put his life on the line that night, executing every man who had dared come after me.

When the gunfire finally ceased, he wiped the blood from his face and placed the family's signet ring in my hand. It was the emblem of ultimate authority.

"Arianna, this is yours. And I'll kill anyone who tries to take it from you."

Across the west, the Moretti family's power spanned both the underworld and high society, our influence reaching into every corner.

People fawned over me, but all I had ever wanted was someone to be genuine with me. I had thought Salvatore was the one.

In the years after we got married, he'd always come home by 6:00 pm unless something important kept him.

He bought me a private yacht that only ever sailed for me, docked year-round at the harbor. We kissed on mountaintops blanketed in snow and shared a single umbrella in rain-soaked alleys.

Everyone knew Salvatore was a ruthless devil. Yet, with me, his love burned so fiercely it bordered on madness.

It wasn't until I watched the video Rosa sent me that I finally saw the truth. Salvatore did love me, but he wanted to protect Rosa.

A sharp pain tightened in my chest until I could hardly breathe.

As it turned out, my father had been right all along. The only person I could ever trust was myself.

I brushed away the tears, opened the safe, and pulled out the revolver I hadn't touched in years.

The first shot tore through our wedding photo. The bullet split it clean down the middle, right between our joined hands.

The second shot struck the pregnancy test on the desk, the one showing two lines. I had just found out I was pregnant and hadn't even told Salvatore yet. Yet, this was the surprise he gave me.

The third shot shattered the mirror. My reflection splintered into countless pieces—broken beyond repair.

No matter how sweet our memories had been, I wanted no part of a love built on lies.

Rosa had schemed every detail to perfection, except for one.

Like father, like daughter. In his time, my father had ruled the underworld of the west with an iron fist. They called him the Steel Lion.

As his daughter, I was never meant to be harmless. You were either loyal to me or dead.