Why Does The Protagonist Cry In The Crying Heart Tattoo: A Novel?

To save my husband, I drank until my stomach bled. Despite making it to the hospital, no one would treat me—all because he, a prominent surgeon, forbade anyone from attending to his own wife. In a previous life, he had saved me, a deed that fate cruelly repaid: the same day he saved me, his beloved, Lily Evans, tragically died during surgery. Consumed by regret, he lamented, "If I hadn't saved you, she might still be alive." On my birthday, in a twisted celebration, he intoxicated both me and our daughter. In a horrifying turn, he used his surgical skills to ruthlessly stab us both. As I lay bleeding, I begged for our daughter's life, pleading with him to spare her, his biological child. He coldly justified his brutality by claiming that being tied to me caused him to miss his chance with his true love. Fueled by a desperate need to protect my daughter, I fought him ferociously. He inflicted thirty-eight merciless wounds on me before turning his murderous intent towards our child. As I faced death, my last sight was of him, his decision clear as he once again chose his lost love over his living family.

On the way to a dance competition, a massive truck rammed into me. My legs were shattered, and my mother was sent flying from the impact after she tried to protect me. My stepbrother, who was also my secret boyfriend of six years, went crazy after hearing the news. He had the driver dragged off to a lawless borderland and called in the best doctors in the country to save me and my mother. Not many people knew, but I was born with a rare sensitivity to pain. The more it hurt, the clearer my mind became. That was how I ended up lying wide awake on the bed, listening to Luke Quinton and his friend, Harvey Lane, talking just outside my hospital room. "Luke, are you sure about this? You really want to let Queenie practice on Natalie's mother's heart?" "She deserves it. That vile woman seduced my father and drove my mother to her death. If not for revenge, do you think I'd stomach being with her daughter for six years? "She should be honored that Queenie is dissecting her heart. Keep it from Natalie for now. If she loses it, she might ruin my wedding with Queenie. What would I do if that happened? The only woman I'll ever have as my wife is Queenie. No one will ever take her place." So, that was the truth. What I thought was a love strong enough to defy the world had been a lie from the very beginning—just a carefully crafted act of revenge.

On our third wedding anniversary, Kent gave me a gift. A black metal wristband. Cold. Sleek. He called it a new product from his company—a pain-sharing system. The other user was Violet. His "girl bro." The person he was closer to than his own sister. Kent brushed a hand over my cheek, his gaze soft. "Clara, you're too coddled. You should learn from Violet. She's tough." Then he snapped the wristband onto my wrist. So while Violet got a full-back tattoo and an entire sleeve, I felt every single needle. When Violet went wingsuit flying, I collapsed at home. Every bone in my body felt shattered. I threw up blood. While she soaked up attention online as the "extreme sports queen," I was drowning in nonstop pain. Kent sat beside me, holding my hand as he cared. "Just hang in there. Violet's just being herself. As my wife, you should be more understanding." To finally push me over the edge, Violet decided to livestream herself jumping into the ocean to make me die in her place. Their friends couldn't wait to watch. Later, I watched calmly from a hospital room as the system slowly drained the life out of her. Kent looked deranged as he demanded to know why I wasn't dead. Because I had already reversed the system. All her vitality had become the nourishment that sustained me.

She was not supposed to fall for him but she did and now she can only blame herself for feeling that way because all he ever does is giving her pain.

At the Mafia Alliance Academy, reputation is the only currency—and mine was bankrupt in a single morning. One planted file, one flawless performance, and a few crocodile tears from Elena Rossi, the “fragile” scholarship student, were all it took. Overnight, I fell from the heights of the elite to a pariah branded a cruel bully. The ultimate betrayal? My fiancé, Luca Valenti—the future Don who once swore to be my blade—stood by her side, looking at me with nothing but cold contempt. They called me cruel. Entitled. A rich girl bullying someone who had nothing. What they didn’t know was that I could hear the venom dripping from Elena’s mind. While she played the victim, her thoughts laughed—mocking the Academy’s stupidity, sneering at how easily she had Luca wrapped around her finger. I stayed silent… until the Truth System awakened. Now I can broadcast her twisted thoughts to anyone I choose. And without hesitation, I linked her mind to Luca’s. So while Elena clings to his arm, crying about her “shattered dreams,” Luca hears everything— her plans to destroy his family, her contempt for his protection, and her disgust at being touched by him. The girl he chose is already tearing his world apart.

For five years, I fought illegal matches in an underground cage ring to scrape together enough money to repay the massive high-interest loan I had taken out to treat my son Luca’s illness. Dragging my still-dislocated left arm, I rushed to tell the father and son the good news. Yet when I reached the door, I saw the capo who managed the cage arena bowing low before my husband, Vicenzo. “Underboss, Eva said she’ll repay the loan in a few days. Do we still keep pretending to pressure her?” Vicenzo idly spun the Browning in his hand, the diamonds set into it worth enough to buy the entire cage arena. “No need. She’s suffered enough these past few years. Even when she had two ribs broken a few months ago, she didn’t dare tell us.” Elena, his sworn sister, seated beside him, let out a soft laugh. “Vicenzo, what if she’s a spy sent by a rival family? After all, you are the underboss of the Carlini family. “Besides, Luca has been pampered since he was little. How could he live with someone who reeks of blood?” My six-year-old son wrapped his arms tightly around her neck and echoed her words. “I don’t want a woman covered in scars as my mommy. Just looking at her wounds makes me feel sick.” Then he turned to her and pouted. “Aunt Elena, I wish you were my mommy.” Vicenzo hesitated only a moment before looking at them indulgently. “Then we’ll test her for another six months. If she remains this obedient, I’ll officially let her become part of the Carlini family.” I watched the farce with cold eyes, because to avoid frightening Vicenzo, the ordinary librarian I believed him to be, I had hidden my identity as the principessa of the Moretti family. Also, to keep from being found by my family and my fiancé, the Don of the Carlini family, I had not touched a single cent of family money. Instead, I chose to earn it with my fists in places piled with the dead. So it seemed my endurance and sacrifice were nothing more than a taming game in their eyes.