The Mistress Comes Knocking: He Begs Me Not to Go

Leonardo Ferrante stormed into my house like a man possessed.

The moment he saw Vittoria Greco lying on the floor with blood seeping from the corner of her mouth, his expression immediately turned murderous.

"Have you lost your mind, Camilla Marino?"

I stood where I was, looking up at him.

"You barged into my house, pointing and yelling at me for the sake of a cheap mistress who isn't fit to be seen in public. Leonardo, aren't you the one who's lost your mind?"

Leonardo pressed his lips tightly together, saying nothing.

Vittoria struggled to crawl to his feet. She then lifted her face, swollen from my slap, and said tearfully, "Leonardo, we're getting engaged next week. H-How am I supposed to explain to my parents if they see me like this?"

She wept in bitter despair.

I saw a flicker of hesitation in Leonardo's eyes. The next second, he suddenly pressed a knife against my throat.

In a calm yet cruel voice, he said, "Camilla, everyone knows about what happened to you back then. My nonno made it very clear that my family would never take in a daughter-in-law with a tarnished reputation."

He looked at me with pain and resolve in his eyes.

"My heart will always belong to you, but my hand has to go to her. My family needs an heir, so stop making a scene. Let's both get what we want, okay?"

When I heard that, I felt as if my heart had been brutally carved out with a sharp blade.

He was telling me to stop making a scene? But whose enemy was it that tracked me down and got me kidnapped and assaulted in the first place?

It was none other than Leonardo, of course.

Now my past, stained with blood and sin, had become the very thing that prevented me from marrying into the Ferrante family and also the reason he was marrying someone else.

My throat tightened. I forced down the bitterness that was about to burst through my chest and let out a low laugh instead.

"Leonardo, you're telling me to be the bigger person? Am I supposed to swallow my pride, willingly reduce myself into your dirty little secret, and then smile as I wish you and Vittoria a house full of children?"

I met his complicated gaze and let my smile fade.

"Well, that's never going to happen. If anything, I'll make sure you end up with nothing. As long as I'm alive, let's see who in Fairview dares to marry you!"

The air suddenly grew thick with tension.

The knife in Leonardo's hand remained perfectly still, yet his hand trembled faintly.

I saw the reluctance in his eyes and thought he'd give in. But then, he suddenly turned the blade and cut out the tongue of Stefano Rossi, the bodyguard he had personally trained to protect me.

Warm drops of blood splattered across my cheek. I stood frozen as he tossed the knife aside. He then bent down and scooped Vittoria into his arms.

He cradled the back of her neck with one hand, and with his other—the one covered in scars from shielding me from an explosion—gently covered her eyes.

Pain stabbed through my chest and washed over me. It was just like when I was 18 years old, and he—drenched in blood—had carried me out of the wreckage.