Chapter 4

Not until the next morning did I regain enough strength to go to the family private clinic by myself to treat my wounds.

Even the experienced doctor was clearly shocked when he saw the whip marks on my back. Cleaning and bandaging them took nearly three hours.

I was sweating profusely from the pain. Several of my nails broke during the treatment, but I never made a sound.

During the two days I rested at the clinic, my wounds began to scab. During this time, Elena sent me provocative messages every day.

"Father has agreed to turn your room into an arsenal display. The new shipment from South America that Vincenzo gave me needs the space. When are you going to move your junk out?"

"Vincenzo took me to Milan to get my dress. The designer said the fabric would take three months to source. Vincenzo just bought out the entire workshop and made them work overnight."

In the photo, Vincenzo's gaze on Elena was full of tenderness. Looking at this, I felt nothing inside.

I didn't reply to any messages. After my condition slightly improved, I returned to my room to pack my bags. Besides necessary documents and a few personal items, I threw everything else away.

The housekeeper saw this and cautiously came over to remind me, "Miss Lena, Miss Elena said you should move to the storage shed next to the warehouse. It might leak, but you can store your things there... There's no need to throw everything away..."

"Never mind," I cut him off, looking at the empty room. "I won't need these things anymore. I'm leaving New York soon. I won't be back."

The housekeeper looked surprised. "You're leaving? But..."—Everyone in the Rossi family knew that Sicily was the family's "exile ground." Only those abandoned by the family were sent there, and no one ever returned.

Before he could finish, Vincenzo pushed the door and walked in. "Who's leaving?"

Elena came out of the bedroom and pouted. "You're here so early! I'm not ready yet."

Vincenzo smiled and pinched her nose. "That's okay. I can wait.

"I don't know which dress to choose," Elena said, playing her part. "You have good taste. Help me pick one."

The two of them returned to the bedroom laughing and closed the door. I averted my eyes silently and zipped up my suitcase.

The whole day, Vincenzo and Elena were inseparable. They kissed on the balcony, letting her lipstick stain collar. Vincenzo personally supervised his men moving weapons as "gifts" for the other families the next day. He also had his private tailor adjust Elena's dress. Elena sat in the living room, calling me over from time to time, ordering me around like a servant to fetch champagne and jewelry boxes.

"Lena, look at this brooch," Elena held up a sapphire-encrusted brooch that Vincenzo had acquired by trading two opium processing plants. "Vincenzo says this stone glows in the dark. That way, no matter where I am, he can always find me."

The servants whispered among themselves: "Mistress and Mr. Vincenzo really love each other. They're not even married yet, but they're already as sweet as a newlywed couple."

"Mistress has been doted on since childhood. Now with Mr. Vincenzo's affection, she'll become even more spoiled."

"Poor Miss Lena. She never got attention growing up, and now she has to give up the man she loves to her sister."

Hearing their gossip through the door, I lowered my eyes. I had questioned fate countless times about why it was so unfair. But after dying once, I finally understood: things I have to fight for were never meant for me.

This applies to family love, as well as romantic love.

In the evening, a servant informed us that my parents had booked a table at the restaurant on the hillside and wanted us all to have dinner together. I wanted to decline, but Elena forcefully pulled me into the car.

On the way, no matter what Elena said, Vincenzo would immediately respond.

"After we get married, let's go to Europe for our honeymoon, okay? I want to see the northern lights, and I want to attend fashion week. You'll have to take lots of photos for me. Set all your electronic devices to photos of me, and no two can be the same."

"Alright. I'll learn photography first. I have to capture your most beautiful moments. Then I'll hang the photos in my office and study. That way, whenever I miss you, I can just look up."

"It's a deal! When we have children, we can look through the photo albums together and remember the past. By the way, how many children do you want? Boys should be handsome like you, girls are better off like me..."

They chatted excitedly as if I didn't exist at all. I watched the scenery outside the window in silence.

The day of Vincenzo's cornea transplant surgery, I had been drugged and fell asleep. I dreamed that when he woke up, the first person he saw was me. From then on, his eyes could only hold me. He would always be by my side, preparing surprises, taking me to experience the world. He would kneel to propose, take my hand into marriage, and hold our children for a family photo.

In my dream, I had true love and a home of my own.

Unfortunately, when I woke up, everything vanished. I struggled so hard in the end, only to meet a brutal death.

Just as I was lost in thought, the screech of brakes snapped me out of it. I looked up to see a sports car speeding uncontrollably toward us.

A huge crash. Our car hit a bridge pillar. My body felt like it was falling apart. My forehead, arms, and legs were bleeding. The intense pain made me gasp for air.

It was an ambush. The rival Bernardos didn't want the Rossi-Corleone alliance, so they set up a trap on our route.

I forced my eyes open, blurred with blood. I saw Vincenzo helping a trembling Elena out of the car. Both doors were severely damaged, and the trunk was starting to catch fire.

I bit my lip to stay conscious and dragged my battered body out of the car. Every movement caused more blood to drop, staining the seats and ground.

I had barely crawled a few steps from the car when an explosion sounded behind me. In the towering flames, I fell to the ground. Watching the car burn, I felt cold all over. If I had been a few seconds later, or if I had lost consciousness, I might have died in the crash again.

From the moment of the accident until I saved myself, five minutes had passed. Vincenzo never once looked at me. Even when Elena was safe, he never thought to save me.

Watching his figure as he gently comforted Elena, I wore a tired, bitter smile. All my strength was gone, and my eyelids felt too heavy to keep open.

Half-conscious, I heard the sound of an ambulance and a nurse's urgent voice: "Miss Rossi's injuries are more serious! Her old wounds haven't healed, and she was at the center of the blast. The impact was the greatest. She's already lost consciousness from blood loss. Mr. Corleone, we recommend we take her to surgery first, otherwise her life may be in danger!"

Vincenzo's voice was merciless. "I only care about Elena's safety. She's injured too. You must save her first!"

"Lena, how are you feeling? Does it hurt badly?" My mother’s voice trembled, and for a moment, I thought I could feel the warmth of their concern. My father nodded quickly, echoing her, "Don’t worry, we’ll find the best doctor for you right away."

Just then, a sharp whimper cut through the air. Elena, who was lying beside me, suddenly clutched her arm and twisted her body, her voice rising: "Mom! Dad! It hurts so much… my arm feels like it’s broken…"

My parents’ heads snapped toward her. When they saw Elena’s contorted expression and the faint bloodstain spreading on her sleeve, their expressions changed instantly. My mother pulled her hand away from my forehead and hurried to Elena’s side, her tone switching to urgency.

"Elena! Oh my poor girl, why is there so much blood?" My father also let go of my hand, his gaze no longer on me. He turned to me, his voice hurried and distant, "Lena, you wait here for a bit first. Elena’s injury looks worse—we’ll take her to get treated first, and then come back for you right away."

My mother didn’t even look at me, just kept murmuring to Elena, "It’s okay, baby, we’ll fix this. Your wedding is coming soon, we can’t let you have any scars…"

Vincenzo, who had been standing quietly by the door, stepped forward and blocked my view of them. His face was still full of anxiety, but this time, it was clearly for me.

"Doctor," I spoke, my voice barely a whisper. "Don't worry about me. I can handle this myself."

I took the gauze the doctor offered and began to bandage my own wounds.

Vincenzo and my parents didn't spare me another glance. They got into the ambulance with Elena in their arms.