เข้าสู่ระบบVittoria let out a faint smile at his—slightly excessive—protectiveness.Gently, she reached out and took the tray from his hands, preventing Vincenzo’s clumsy devotion from turning into a small disaster.“I’ve got it,” Vittoria said, even under his reproachful stare. “Don’t complain, Vincenzo—both my arms are free,” she added pointedly, asserting that he was the one who needed help now.Vincenzo arched an eyebrow, unable to hide his irritation, even though he knew she was right.“I admit that with one arm immobilized, some things are more complicated,” Vincenzo murmured, leaning dangerously close to her face. “But don’t be mistaken, Vittoria—when it comes to the things that truly matter, I’m still perfectly capable.”“Dio mio, Vincenzo, you’re a complete pervert,” she scolded him, letting out a light laugh that, for a moment, dissolved the heaviness lingering in the room.“I am not,” he shot back, grabbing the spoon from the tray with a triumphant air. “I was referring to feeding you
Vittoria felt the air drain from her lungs, but she forced herself to repeat the breathing exercise he had taught her.As she fought for control, silent tears broke through her resolve and slid down her face, exposing the despair she was struggling to contain.Vincenzo held her hand firmly, his eyes locked on hers while also keeping a vigilant watch on the monitors.“That’s a lie,” Vittoria said, her voice steady despite the pain weighing on it. “My mother would never do something like that. Those words are nothing more than a cowardly excuse to justify the atrocities he forced her to endure.”Vincenzo released her hand only to slide his fingers beneath her eyes, gently wiping away the tears that kept falling, as if he wanted to shield her even from her suffering.“How is this possible?” she went on, closing her eyes as though trying to protect herself from the pain. “How could he be capable of such cruelty? And to everyone else, my mother’s death was nothing more than an accident—red
Vittoria said nothing, keeping her eyes locked on his as the fragile line between understanding and accepting what she had just heard began to take shape in her mind.A bitter unease cut through Vincenzo—the realization that, despite all his love, he had failed her by not insisting she address her condition properly before now.“From this point on, we’re going to deal with this,” Vincenzo said, his tone decisive. “Not just with rescue bronchodilators, but with structured psychological follow-up and emotional-strength training.”“Emotional-strength training?” Vittoria echoed, almost in a whisper, as though the words were too foreign to accept at once.“Breathing techniques, cognitive therapy, even guided meditation,” he explained. “You need to learn how to face your triggers in a controlled way—before they turn your body against you.”“I’m not going to therapy,” Vittoria said, almost spitting the words, as if she were rejecting far more than the treatment itself.“You have to,” he stat
Vittoria felt her heart race, her fingers instinctively sliding to the nasal cannula as weakness still weighed heavily on her body.“Papà,” Vittoria whispered, forcing steadiness into the word, though the tremor running through her betrayed the fear gripping her.“I was so worried, principessa,” Alfonso said, his voice far too gentle, as his fingers brushed hers in an affection that felt rehearsed.Vittoria recoiled at once, yanking her hand away, revulsion flooding her at his touch.In that moment, she finally saw the true face of the man she had called father for so many years.“What is it, principessa?” Alfonso asked, lifting an eyebrow as he noticed her sudden reaction.“Nothing,” Vittoria replied, forcing firmness as she held back tears. “I think I’m confused.” She lay trying to get up in bed, but her body gave in immediately, exposing how weakened she still was. “What happened?” she asked, as if she truly didn’t remember.“Principessa, you were attacked again,” he said, gripping
The rhythmic beep of the monitor and the steady hiss of oxygen filled the room, yet to Vincenzo it was the thunder of his own heartbeat that sounded deafening as he kept his eyes locked on the doctor.“What did you just say?” Vincenzo repeated, his voice low and unsteady, as though each word had to be torn from his throat just to make sure, he hadn’t lost his grip on reality.The doctor lifted her gaze from the electronic chart and met his eyes with professional calm, unfazed by his tone.“Signora Lucchese is six weeks pregnant,” the doctor replied evenly, fully aware she was simply fulfilling her duty without breaching any protocol.“Six weeks,” he echoed, his voice rough and deep, and the calculation was instant and undeniable: it had been in Bath that Vittoria had conceived.His gaze drifted back to Vittoria. Her body lay more relaxed now, surrendered to the medication’s effect, her eyes closed, her lashes trembling faintly.It was clear that the exhaustion of the crisis had claime
Vittoria’s lips parted and closed repeatedly, her gaze drifting into nothingness, far removed from any sense of reality.“No… that’s not possible,” Vittoria whispered, her eyes fixed on Vincenzo even though she could no longer truly see him through the fog of her despair.She shook her head violently, as if trying to expel his words, but the truth crushed her with merciless force in the most painful way imaginable.“No, no,” she murmured, before her voice broke into sobs that tore at her throat. “That can’t be true, it’s a lie—tell me it’s a lie!” she pleaded, her voice fracturing with every syllable, her tear-filled eyes refusing to accept the reality closing in on her. “It was an accident. A damn accident,” she added, clinging to the lie as if it were her last breath, because that version was far less cruel than the truth he had just handed her.Her breathing began to fail rapidly as Vittoria’s crying intensified.Her face turned pale, draining of color by the second, as though the







