Chapter 2: The Asylum Queen

Elena/ Ileana Pov.

I tightened my grip around the scalpel.

The four orderlies came at me at once.

My body was weak. That was the primary issue. My muscles were still recovering from years of physical abuse, my limbs were far thinner than I was accustomed to, and every swift movement served as a sharp reminder that this body had spent years being tortured instead of trained.

But I was a professional. And professionals knew how to work with whatever tools they had.

The first orderly swung his taser straight toward my chest. I stepped to the side, letting his arm pass inches from my face. I caught his wrist, twisted it hard, and drove my elbow straight into his throat.

He choked, air completely leaving his lungs. I ripped the taser from his hand and drove the crackling metal prongs directly into his ribs. His body jerked violently before he collapsed onto the hard floor.

The second man charged forward. I ducked beneath his reaching arm and kicked the back of his knee. As he stumbled, I slammed the heavy metal end of the taser against the side of his head. He dropped like a stone.

The third orderly grabbed me from behind. For a brief second, my weaker body failed me. His thick arms tightened around my waist, lifting my feet completely off the floor. I drove the back of my head straight into his nose.

He grunted, his grip loosening just enough for me to twist around and press the taser against his neck until his entire body went rigid and fell heavily beside the others.

The fourth man froze in place. His eyes darted between his three unconscious colleagues and me.

I smiled.

He took a slow step backward. Then another.

"Run," I whispered.

He turned around to flee, but I grabbed a heavy metal tray from the table and hurled it directly at his legs. He tripped and stumbled forward. Before he could regain his footing, I was already on top of him, bringing the taser down against his temple.

The entire fight took less than a minute.

I stood in the middle of the room, breathing heavily as my chest rose and fell beneath the damp hospital dress. My muscles burned with exhaustion.

This body was going to be a severe limitation, but it was something I could fix with time and discipline.

I turned my gaze toward Dr. Vane. He was already scrambling toward the open door.

"Oh no, you don't," I muttered, lunging after him.

My fingers snagged the back of his clean white lab coat just as he reached the hallway. I yanked him backward with everything I had.

He stumbled into the room and crashed hard onto the floor, landing directly on top of the dead assistant. Fresh blood immediately soaked into his pristine white coat.

Dr. Vane let out a pathetic scream.

I grabbed him by the collar and dragged his heavy frame toward the metal table. The exact same table where this body had been strapped down.

Where cold water had been used to suffocate her.

Where electricity had torn through her muscles while she begged for mercy.

I threw him onto the cold metal surface. He struggled frantically beneath me.

"Ileana, please!" he begged, his hands shaking as he stared up at me in terror. "Please, just calm down! Everything I did... I didn't want to do it! Your family... they are the ones who wanted this!"

I paused, staring down at him. "Why?"

"I don't know!" His voice cracked in desperation. "I swear I don't know why! They just wanted you gone. They didn't give a reason, and I never asked. I just did what I was paid to do!"

A strange, cold silence settled over the room. My family. The words felt completely foreign to me, yet something deep inside this physical shell reacted to them with a sharp ache.

I pushed the feeling down.

I looked over at the nurse, who was still sitting on the floor, shaking so violently her teeth were chattering.

"Get me a bucket of ice water," I commanded.

She stared at me, then looked at Dr. Vane.

"Now," I said, my voice sharp.

She scrambled to her feet and practically ran out of the room. A couple of minutes later, she returned carrying a large plastic bucket filled with floating ice and freezing water.

Dr. Vane’s face went completely pale. "No... please..."

I took the bucket from the nurse and dumped the entire contents straight over his face and chest. The freezing water drenched his hair and soaked through his clothes. He gasped violently for air, shuddering from the shock.

On the floor, two of the orderlies were beginning to groan and stir. I looked at them coldly.

"Strap him down," I ordered.

They stared at me in disbelief. I picked up the small silver scalpel from the tray and pressed the tip gently against Dr. Vane’s throat—just hard enough to break the skin and draw a small bead of blood.

"Strap him down," I repeated.

Dr. Vane swallowed hard, his eyes wide with fear. "Do what she says! Just do it!"

The orderlies slowly got up from the floor, moving stiffly towards the table. They pulled the heavy leather straps over Dr. Vane’s arms and legs, securing him tightly.

I picked up one of the tasers from the floor. Dr. Vane began shaking his head frantically.

"This isn't even half of what you put this body through," I said softly, pressing the metal prongs against his soaked chest.

I pressed the button. His entire body jerked violently against the leather restraints, a muffled scream tearing from his throat. I stopped for a second, looked into his terrified eyes, and activated it again. And again.

I felt no satisfaction in torture, but somewhere deep within these bones, the small, lingering spirit of the girl who had died here was finally watching her abuser pay.

When I finally put the taser down, Dr. Vane was barely conscious. I used the scalpel to slice cleanly through his leather bindings, then grabbed him by the back of his coat and dragged his limp body out into the main corridor.

My bare feet left faint red prints along the cold tile floor.

Nurses scrambled out of the way. Staff members backed up against the walls in complete shock. Nobody dared to intervene.

As I dragged him down the hall, metal doors began to creak open. Patients peered out from their rooms. Some stared in silence, while others recognized Dr. Vane immediately. They knew what he had done to them. The man who had terrorized this ward for years was now being dragged across the floor like dirty laundry.

Then, someone started to laugh. Another patient began to clap loudly.

"Keep going!" a woman yelled from her doorway.

"Make him pay!" another voice shouted.

Soon, the entire hallway filled with noise. Patients cheered, laughed, and yelled at the broken doctor on the floor. I kept walking until I reached the end of the corridor, dropping him right near the central desk.

I looked around at the faces staring back at me. The atmosphere in the asylum had shifted completely. They didn't see another helpless victim anymore. They saw someone dangerous.

Someone who held the power now.

Three months later.

I walked down the main corridor of Saint Aurelia, scrolling through a phone I had ordered one of the junior doctors to buy for me.

My short white lab coat was neatly buttoned over a black outfit, paired with knee-high boots. My raven-black hair was brushed smooth and tied back into a ponytail.

Proper meals and daily strength training had made me look healthier, though faint, lingering bruises still marked my skin.

The moment the orderlies saw me coming, they quickly moved out of my way, pressing themselves against the walls.

I caught the quiet, terrified whispers of two new orderlies behind me.

"That's her," one muttered under his breath.

"Who?"

"The Devil's bride," the other whispered back."They say even death didn't want her."

I ignored them and kept walking. Fear was useful in a place like this.

Over the past three months, I had done all the groundwork I needed.

I couldn't call Andrei back in Bucharest—explaining that I had woken up in another woman's body in Italy was impossible.

But fate had brought me here for a reason.

During these three months, I had thoroughly researched the Belluccis. I knew everything I needed to know about them and how they had abandoned this body to be tortured.

I was going to make them pay.

But I couldn't do it alone.

I needed a powerful backer—someone who could shield me while I brought the Belluccis down and look for my biological family.

If I tried to go after a family as powerful as the Belluccis on my own, they would wipe me out before I even made it past their front gates.

On paper, I was nobody. I had no weapons, no syndicate, and no standing in Italy.

I began searching through lists of Italy's most formidable figures.

One name stood out immediately: the D'Angelo family.

They were one of the most feared and respected empires in the country, holding vast power across multiple industries.

I clicked on their profile and scrolled past the standard news articles until a single photograph appeared on the screen.

It was a striking image of a man with dark, wavy hair and sharp, intense blue-gray eyes.

His features were cold and commanding.

Below his picture, the headline read:

ADONIS D'ANGELO: THE DEVIL OF VERONA.

I read his details. An illegitimate firstborn son, cast aside by the D'Angelo family, yet he had built his own ruthless reputation from the ground up, becoming a force that even his relatives feared to cross.

I stared at his photograph for a long moment, studying the quiet danger in his eyes.

A slow smile spread across my lips.

An illegitimate son rejected by his own blood, powerful enough to stand against Italy's greatest empires.

I locked the screen.

"Him," I whispered. "This is my ticket."

For the first time since opening my eyes on that cold metal table, my path was entirely clear.

I was going to find Adonis D'Angelo.