Three Scars：Betrayed by the Don

I was Gavin Whitestone’s treasure for ten years. Then he abandoned me for another woman three times, and I finally saw the truth. I didn't love him anymore.

I have three scars. Each one is named Gavin Whitestone.

The first is just below my ribs, from a shootout two years ago. Sofia Bianchi ran out of a corner and took a bullet for Gavin. It hit her arm. Gavin sent every doctor in the city to her side, while I was left in a dark corner, pressing my hand to my stomach to keep myself from bleeding out from a piece of shrapnel.

That night, he held my hand and said, "Viola, put a bullet in me. If it makes you feel better, just do it." I saw the bloodshot veins in his eyes and my heart softened. Like a fool, I forgave him.

The second scar is on my shoulder. Sofia “bravely” went to Gavin’s room to “help” him after he was drugged. When I walked in on them, he pushed her away. But the moment Sofia clutched her stomach and cried out in pain, he rushed to scoop her up, slamming me hard against the metal doorframe as he ran out.

Afterward, the deed to a hundred-million-dollar pier was placed in front of me. And I forgave him again.

But I never expected a third time.

And this time, it wasn't a piece of my body he was taking, but my soul.

The VIP room of the underground casino was thick with the smell of cigars and whiskey.

Sofia was curled in Gavin’s lap, her finger pointing at my hip.

"Gavin, I'm all out of chips, but I want that," she whined, her voice was pure sugar, thick and cloying. "That silver gun is so pretty. So vintage and elegant. Can I play with it?"

My blood ran cold.

It was my revolver. The last thing my father left me, and a symbol of the Rossi family's past glory.

"No," I said, my voice ice.

Gavin hesitated, then melted under Sofia’s teary-eyed gaze.

"Viola, don't be so stingy." Gavin's voice was low, laced with a careless affection—for Sofia, of course. "The doctor said Sofia's emotions are unstable in her first trimester. She needs little things to keep her happy. It's just an old gun. I'll get you a better one."

"It was a gift from my father!" I shot to my feet, the chair screeching against the floor. "Gavin, that's my line in the sand."

"I should be your only line," Gavin frowned, clearly annoyed by my "childishness." He took the gun from my holster, his tone turning cold. "She's our savior, Viola. She took a bullet for me. Without her, I'd be dead. You need to show some gratitude."

Gratitude?

Using my father's legacy as a thank you gift for his woman?

Sofia smugly took the gun, playing with it in her hands, the barrel casually sweeping past my face. "Oh, it's a little heavy. Thank you, Viola. I'll take good care of it."

In that split second, everything changed.

A red laser dot cut through the smoke and settled on Gavin’s forehead.

"Sniper!"

Gavin’s reaction was terrifyingly fast.

But he didn't dive for me.

He spun around, shielding Sofia with his entire body, kicking over the table for cover.

And I, in my white silk dress, was left completely exposed. A beacon in front of the floor-to-ceiling window. A perfect target.

CRACK!

A bullet shattered the glass, whizzing past my ear and embedding itself in the wall behind me. Shards of glass sliced my cheek, and I felt warm blood trickle down.

If I hadn't instinctively bent down to grab my purse, that bullet would've taken my head off.

The room erupted into chaos as bodyguards stormed in.

Gavin finally looked up. After making sure Sofia was unharmed, his eyes frantically found me.

When he saw the blood on my face, his eyes went wide with terror.

"Viola!" He started to rush toward me.

"Stay back."

I stood up straight, not even bothering to wipe away the blood. That bullet didn't kill me, but it killed the last bit of love I had for Gavin.

I turned and walked out of the room without a backward glance.

I went home and pulled out the divorce papers from the bottom of my drawer.

Maybe I should have done this a long time ago.

I found Sofia.

"You see how dangerous the position of Mrs. Whitestone is," I said, my voice chillingly calm. "Since you want it so badly, we can make a deal."

Sofia looked at me warily. "What do you mean?"

"I want a divorce. You get him to sign these papers, and the title, the power, the man himself—all of it can be yours."

Greed flashed in Sofia's eyes.

"Are you crazy? Gavin will never agree."

"I know you have your ways, don't you?" I leaned in, whispering seductively. "This is your only chance to take my place. If I ask, he'll say no out of pride. You only get your shot once I'm gone..."

Sofia was a smart, wicked woman. She understood.

That night, she came to me in the guest room.

She handed me a file, her face lit with a joy she couldn't hide. "I did it. Don't you go back on your word."

I took the divorce agreement.

At the bottom, Gavin’s signature was just as familiar as it was on our marriage certificate five years ago.

I felt a sharp, tearing pain in my chest, but also, a sense of release.