Chapter 2

The next evening at dusk, Cesare's assistant delivered a dress.

It was red like a sunset, and red like blood sprayed from a throat.

The deep V-neckline plunged low, and the skirt was so short that it barely covered my upper thighs.

It was not a formal gown; it looked more like something meant for street hookers.

I knew Winter hated red, so Cesare chose the dress on purpose. He wanted me in red so that her pure-white dress would stand out.

It was his way of humiliating me in public.

I showed no reaction and put the dress on. I also put on high-glam makeup.

That night was a secret dinner for the five major Ithelian mafia families. Cesare, the rising gangster of the mafia, needed to use the dinner to climb to a higher status.

The dinner venue was set inside an ancient Cecilian castle.

The air was thick with cigars, expensive perfume, and the faint smell of gunpowder hidden beneath it all.

Winter held onto Cesare by the arm, and she wore a white lacy gown. She looked like an angel who had wandered into the mortal world.

I followed closely behind them.

I looked like something he could summon whenever he wanted, like a joke for others to tease at.

"Well now, is this your little pet, Cesare?" someone joked.

He was a heavily tattooed mafia boss, staring at me lustfully–disgustingly.

Cesare did not get angry. He, in fact, laughed along with it.

"Just a toy to pass the time. Feel free to look if you all like her," he said.

Winter covered her mouth to chuckle, then she looked at my high heels.

"The castle floor is very historical, Rene. It would be such a pity to dance on it with shoes," she said.

She turned and tugged at his sleeve, acting spoiled.

"I want to see Rene dance that classical piece, Cesare–the type that needs to be barefoot. It would be very graceful," she requested.

Cesare took a sip of whiskey and looked at me coldly.

"Take them off," he ordered.

The marble floor was embedded with hard diamond shards.

The air-conditioning was turned up high too, so the floor felt like ice.

I said nothing and bent down silently to undo the straps of my heels.

The moment my bare feet touched the cold floor, sharp pain shot through them.

I began to dance.

I spun and leapt.

The soft skin of my feet rubbed against the sharp fragments and icy marble.

Lewd whistles rose around me.

Those men watched like they were at a circus. Some also tossed dollar bills at my feet.

Soon, the skin on my soles bled.

Bloody footprints appeared on the white marble; it was clear and gruesome.

When the dance ended, my body trembled from the pain, and I could barely stand.

Winter walked over with a glass of red wine, pretending to help me stand still.

"You danced so beautifully, Rene," she said.

Her hand slipped.

A full glass of red wine poured down my chest.

The cold liquid flowed into the deep V-neckline, soaking the thin fabric.

The cloth clung tightly to my body, fully outlining my curves.

The men erupted into louder cheers.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry! I didn't hold it right!" exclaimed Winter.

She cried out and hid in his arms, looking like a frightened little rabbit.

Cesare glanced at my miserable state.

Then, he looked at her white dress that was ruined by only a single drop of wine.

"Are you blind, Rene?" he scolded.

His tone was cold, like he wanted to stone me where I stood.

"You dirtied Winter's dress. Can you afford to pay for that?" he asked.

He strode over and kicked the back of my knee.

I crashed to the ground. My knees slammed into diamond shards, sending stabbing pain through my body.

"Kneel, and clean Winter," he ordered.

The hall fell silent. Everyone watched me as a joke, even though I am his missus.

My hands shook as I lifted them. Using the torn hem of my red dress, I slowly wiped her high heels clean.

Winter looked down at me.

She lowered her voice so only I could hear. "In Ithel, someone like you only deserves to die in a trash pile, Rene."

Cesare sneered coldly, as if that was still not enough.

He suddenly pulled the short knife from his waist and slashed my dress.

The skirt was already ruined. It was then torn apart, exposing most of my thighs.

"Go away and stop embarrassing yourself here," he said.

He wrapped his arm around Winter and walked toward the private room without looking back.

I was on the floor. Diamond shards bit into my palms, leaving them a bloody, mangled mess.

That pain reminded me of my past life, right before he starved me to death. It was a wound that never healed.

I stared at the blood on the floor.

'You'll get a taste of this soon enough, Cesare. You'll know what it's like to kneel on the ground, begging,' I mused.