I Paid in Blood, He Paid in Regret
While I try on various wedding rings, my fiance, Don Demetrio Farese, who has tagged along, suddenly snatches the ring from my fingertip.
"You already lost a finger, Lucia. The ring will look ugly on you. Carlotta, on the other hand, looks beautiful with a ring on her finger."
Then, Demetrio fishes out a photo featuring him sinking down on one knee while sliding a ring onto Carlotta Rini's finger.
My chest tightens. "What are you trying to say?"
"Let Carlotta wear the wedding ring. You've already lost a finger anyway—you don’t need it."
Pain slowly spreads from my chest to the rest of my body. For a moment, I almost lose my balance.
The truth is, Demetrio's mortal enemy is the one who severed my finger by shooting at it. Back then, I only got shot because I had shielded Demetrio from the bullet.