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You Broke Me, Loved Her, and Left Me to Die
NovelShort
Hoàn thành
We’d been trapped in a marriage for eight years, every day a battlefield. Gio Ramirez—my husband, my tormentor, the mafia king everyone whispered about—made sure I never forgot the taste of pain...
Chương (6)
第1章
We’d been at war since the moment we exchanged vows. Eight years. Eight long, exhausting, miserable years.
Gio and I weren’t just a couple—everyone whispered we were a disaster masquerading as a marriage, a storm trapped in rings and vows. But now… it was ending. I could feel it in every nerve of my body.
I stared at the medical report clutched in my hands, the words blurring, dancing, then finally landing like a blade in my chest: Late-stage pancreatic cancer. A bitter smile twisted my lips. My phone erupted. Messages kept pouring in until the sound made my head throb.
[Liora! Check the group!]
[Is Gio out of his mind?!]
[He’s auctioning you! ONE NIGHT with another man!]
My hands went ice-cold. Gio Ramirez—the mafia boss of the Eastern Quarter, my husband, the man everyone feared—my tormentor, my curse.
I got into the car and drove like a woman racing toward destruction. By the time I arrived, the auction hall felt like a temple built on greed. Sharp suits, sIsolde gazes, women with smiles that could cut. Henchmen lined the walls like statues. Cameras clicked. Smoke curled through the air. And there he was. Gio. Front row, broad-shouldered, the very air around him heavy with command. A woman in a crimson dress sat at his side.
Isolde. My blood ran cold. The woman he had chosen because she resembled my sister, twisted enough to feel like theft, like a mockery.
One by one, my private photos flashed across the massive screens. The crowd leaned in, hungry, calculating.
“Twenty million.”
“Three.”
“One hundred million.”
A bald man rose, his voice booming. “One hundred fifty. I’ll pay one hundred fifty million for a night with Miss Liora.”
The room lifted phones and cameras. Perfume and ambition hung thick in the air.
I couldn’t move. My legs went weak. Gio didn’t even glance at me. He leaned back, expression unreadable, eyes half-lidded, watching as if observing some minor amusement.
“Deal,” he said casually.
The man grinned and stepped forward. “So, Boss Ramirez, tonight she’s mine?”
“Once the money clears,” Gio said with a smirk, “she belongs to you.”
And that… that was the sound of something inside me snapping.
The man reached for me. Instinct took over. I grabbed a wine bottle from the nearest table and smashed it against his skull. Glass shattered, blood splattered across the marble like some grotesque flower. Silence fell. My ears rang. The world narrowed to the heat of my own fear and fury.
“TOUCH ME AGAIN,” I hissed, voice shaking, “AND I WILL MAKE YOU WISH YOU WERE NEVER BORN.”
No one moved.
Gio’s laughter cut through the tension, slow, deliberate. Applause that wasn’t applause. He strode toward me, moving through the crowd of men whose faces betrayed nothing. Close enough for me to taste whiskey and expensive cologne. He leaned close, his breath brushing my ear.
“If I can auction you once,” he whispered, “I can do it again. And again. Until there’s nothing left of you to sell.”
I tried to speak, words choking me. “W-why? Do you really hate me that much?”
“Hate?” He chuckled like a man long accustomed to hearing the dead speak. “You killed the two people I loved most. How do you think that feels?”
My heart seized. Pain shot through me like ice. The room tilted. Faces I’d known, men I’d smiled at, women who owed him everything—they all watched. They watched their Boss humiliate his wife. To see how far she could fall, how low a person could sink before becoming nothing more than a commodity.
And my mind wandered, back into memory…
Evander Ramirez. Gio’s twin, the gentler twin. The one who never raised his voice, whose smile could still the fiercest storm. He had always been patient with me, gifting chocolates in secret even when Gio forbade it. Falling for him had been effortless, inevitable.
Gio, on the other hand, was fire. Chaos incarnate. Cold eyes, cutting words, a man who could command a room without saying a word. Running the family’s mafia operations before he even hit twenty. Feared by everyone, even his own blood.
He liked my sister, Sabrina. Gentle, graceful, the kind of woman whose very presence could make dangerous men forget themselves. The four of us spent time together; I fought with Gio like sparks on gunpowder while Evander and Sabrina watched, calm, knowing what was coming.
Then it all collapsed. Evander took Sabrina’s hand and announced their engagement. The world shifted. Quietly, destructively.
That night, I locked myself away and wept until my ribs ached. The next morning, I ran from home, hoping distance could numb the heartbreak. Evander and Sabrina went after me. They never returned. The police called it an accident. But in the Ramirez family, “accidents” were never accidents.
For days I knelt beside their coffins, gasping for air through grief. I thought I would die there. And then Gio appeared.
He carried me when I fell, wiped my tears silently, stood by as I shattered. When nightmares clawed at me, he turned on the lights before I could scream. When I refused to eat, he forced me, threatening his men. He was cruel, controlling, but he stayed. And slowly, in the suffocating shadows, I began to cling to him. Mistaking his dominance for care. Mistaking control for love.
One night, he asked me to marry him. I froze. He smiled, but the warmth didn’t reach his eyes.
“You’ve started loving me too, haven’t you?” he said. “No one else is needed. I’ll take care of you… for the rest of your life.”
I said yes. Somewhere between grief and madness, I had begun to love him. He had rescued me when I was drowning, and I had mistaken his hold on me for salvation.
On our wedding day, I stood trembling, clutching my bouquet. A fragile hope flared in my chest. Evander would have wanted me to be happy.
Then the lights dimmed. The screen behind us flared to life. My private photos, displayed for everyone to see.
The room went quiet, then laughter erupted.
“Everyone,” Gio said, voice calm, almost teasing, “enjoy your wedding gift—Mrs. Ramirez’s private treasures.”
第2章
A chill ran through me. My body felt like it had turned to ice.
“Gio… what… what is this?” My voice barely left my throat, trembling.
He stepped down from the stage and gripped my chin, forcing my eyes to meet his. “You really don’t know?” His voice was low, venomous. “You killed my twin. You killed Sabrina. Did you think I’d ever love you? I married you so you’d rot beside me, suffer forever by my side.”
Something inside me cracked. I laughed—bitter, jagged, and hollow—and, without thinking, I smashed the nearest champagne bottle against his head right there, in front of everyone.
After that night, our marriage became nothing more than punishment. That’s when I finally saw the truth. The man I had married wasn’t my savior. He was my jailer. Every time I tried to escape, every time I dared to whisper the word “divorce,” he’d punish me until my body forgot how to move and my voice forgot how to speak. In his world, love was not love. Love was possession. And I was his property. For eight years, we destroyed each other, piece by piece.
Now, the end was near.
I stared at the cancer report in my hands. “Gio,” I said quietly, voice almost swallowed by the pain in my chest, “can we… just stop fighting for once? Just for half a month? That’s all the time I have left anyway.”
He looked at me as if I’d cracked a joke. “Oh, now you’re lying? Do you really think death absolves you of what you owe me?”
I dropped my gaze. “In half a month, you’ll see. I’ll give you your answer then.”
He laughed, low and cruel, like a blade scraping stone. “Fine. Half a month. Let’s see how you plan to pay for two lives.”
Then, without another word, he took Isolde’s hand and strode out of the auction hall. He didn’t come home that night.
---
The next morning, every news outlet carried the same images: Gio Ramirez, the feared mafia lord of the Eastern Quarter, leaving a hotel hand-in-hand with Isolde. She wore white, a serene smile curving her lips the same way Sabrina’s once had.
Of course they would. Isolde had never been born looking like Sabrina. She had carved herself into that shape. Surgery. Every angle, every curve copied from photographs and gossip magazines.
Isolde had been my enemy back in school. She hated me, always wanted what I had: Gio, money, power, attention. I had tried once to tell Gio the truth. That Isolde wasn’t naturally like Sabrina; she had shaped herself to crawl into my sister’s shadow. He didn’t believe me.
“You’re jealous,” he said. “Pathetic, for measuring yourself against a dead woman.”
After that, I never spoke of it again.
I put my phone down and ate slowly, my stomach twisting, dull pain gnawing at me like it always did. Pain had become familiar.
The front door slammed. Gio entered, dark suit sharp, presence heavier than the air itself. His men waited outside, heads bowed, silent sentries.
He frowned when he saw me at the table. “Why are you still here?”
I stayed quiet.
He smirked, that cruel, calculated smirk. “Didn’t you say you’d give me your explanation in half a month? Why aren’t you preparing for that?”
Before I could respond, my stomach clenched violently. A sharp, metallic taste coated my tongue. I shoved my chair back and ran to the bathroom, barely reaching the sink before vomiting. And then blood came. Panic flared. I tried to hide it.
The maid’s gasp cut through the room. “Madam! Are you… pregnant?”
Gio’s expression shifted instantly. He stormed forward and gripped my wrist with a force that made me wince. “Pregnant?” His voice dropped low, hard, lethal. “Two months ago… that night. Don’t tell me this is your plan—to use a baby to make me forgive you?”
I pulled free. “I’m not pregnant! And even if I were, I’d never keep your child.”
He didn’t believe me. His jaw clenched tight. “We’re going to the hospital. Now.”
“I said no!” I spat back, fear and fury tangled.
He grabbed my arm again, rougher this time. And in that moment, I realized it didn’t matter how little time I had left—Gio would never let me go in peace.
His brows drew together, that same dangerous look he gave men before ordering their execution. “Since when are you afraid of hospitals? What’s wrong with you today? Truly sick in the head.”
I laughed weakly. “Yeah… you finally got that right. I am sick.”
He studied me, cold and calculating. “Fine. Don’t want to go? Then don’t.” He turned to the maid, voice flat and deadly. “Bring the abortion pills.”
My heart dropped. “Gio, don’t—”
But the maid was already moving. She returned with a dark, thick, bitter-smelling liquid.
Gio grabbed my chin. “Drink.”
“I told you, I’m not pregnant!” I shouted, trying to push him away. He shoved the rim of the bowl to my lips, and the liquid burned as it slid down my throat before I could even spit it out.
The pain came instantly. Sharp. Twisting. Unbearable. My hands clutched my belly as sweat ran down my back. Then the metallic taste returned. Blood. Everywhere. My vision swirled. Darkness edged into my sight.
Distantly, I heard him shouting my name, muffled and underwater.
When I woke, I could barely move.
“She’s not pregnant,” a man said urgently. “Why did she take the pills? Her stomach is badly damaged. We need to pump it immediately.”
The cold tube slid down my throat. I tried to scream. Only a strangled sound emerged. The pain tore through me, inside and out. My stomach cramping, burning, twisting.
“Hang in there,” a nurse whispered near my ear. I bit my lip until I tasted blood and gripped the sheets like they were my lifeline.
By the time they rolled me out of the operating room, half-conscious, the lights above blurred into streaks. I heard the doctor’s voice again, cautious this time.
“Mr. Ramirez… your wife’s condition is far worse than we expected.”
第3章
A cold shiver ran through me, settling into my bones.
“What… what is worse?” Gio’s voice was sharp, annoyed. “It’s just some pill. You pumped her stomach, didn’t you? She’ll live.”
The doctor hesitated, uneasy. “It’s more than that… tests show signs of late-stage—”
“I already know,” I croaked, cutting him off. “Don’t bother telling him. He doesn’t care.”
I turned my head, unwilling to meet Gio’s eyes.
He let out a small, humorless laugh. “You’re right. I don’t care. As long as you’re alive, that’s all that matters.”
He started to leave, but his phone rang. Through the speaker, I could hear her voice—sweet, soft, the kind that made me want to tear something apart.
“Gio? Where are you? I miss you.”
He glanced at me, lips twitching into a faint, cold smile. “At the hospital. Come see me if you miss me so much.”
After he hung up, he turned back to me, smirking. “You wanted me around for the next two weeks, didn’t you? Looks like your wish is coming true.”
I didn’t answer. I just closed my eyes, my body shaking with exhaustion and fear.
A few minutes later, the door opened, and Isolde walked in. Her eyes froze when they landed on me in the bed, then she quickly lowered her gaze and moved straight to Gio.
He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close. “Come here,” he murmured, pressing his lips to hers, right in front of me.
She kissed him back, deeper, and the sound of it made my stomach twist sIsolde than any medicine could. Something inside me broke.
I grabbed the vase on the bedside table and hurled it at them. “Get out! Get the hell out of my room!” My voice cracked and rattled with rage.
The vase shattered against the wall. Gio turned quickly, using his arm to shield Isolde, but a shard still sliced across her cheek. A thin line of blood appeared.
She gasped and clutched him like a frightened child. “Gio… my face—it hurts…”
I watched him freeze. His expression shifted, panic flashing through him—the kind of desperate panic I had never been allowed to see.
He rushed to her, lifting her as if she might break. “Don’t touch it! You’ll make it worse!”
Then he barked orders at his guards. “Get the head of dermatology. No—call the top international specialists. Use the helicopter if you must! Now!”
The men scattered instantly, obedient as ever.
I leaned against the cold metal bedrail, watching him disappear down the hall with Isolde in his arms. His voice echoed behind him. “Make sure she heals clean. No scars. Do you hear me?”
The sound cut through me like a slow, grinding knife. I looked down at my hands. Tiny purple bruises dotted the backs, evidence of countless injections. My fingers shook, but I laughed anyway—quiet, dry, bitter.
Isolde was only a shadow of Sabrina. Just enough to make him lose his mind. And me, the woman he married, could bleed, scream, collapse in front of him—and he wouldn’t even blink.
My stomach twisted, sharp pain radiating through me. I curled up, waiting for it to pass, the thin hospital gown clinging to my sweat-slicked skin.
The days that followed blended into one another: pills, injections, unbearable pain. My body wasted away until my ribs jutted sharply under my skin. Hair fell in clumps. Even the nurses looked at me with quiet pity, sometimes slipping extra painkillers into my IV. I accepted nothing, thanked no one.
Then, one afternoon, the door slammed open. Gio stormed in, thunder incarnate.
Before I could even lift myself, he yanked me upright by the arm. “Isolde almost lost her face because of you!” His voice was icy, cutting through me. “Are you proud of yourself?”
I barely managed to stand. “It was just a scratch,” I whispered.
His grip tightened. “Shut up! You think you can hurt her and get away with it?”
He dragged me down the hall. My legs trembled, too weak to resist. Two guards followed close, silent and imposing.
When we reached the staircase, broken glass glinted on the steps. My chest dropped.
“Gio—what are you doing?”
He didn’t even glance at me. “You like causing pain, don’t you? Let’s see how it feels when it’s your turn.” He nodded to the guards. “Do it.”
I clutched the railing, breath ragged. “She’s not Sabrina! You’re losing your mind!”
Finally, he looked at me, eyes wild. “She doesn’t have to be Sabrina. She only has to look like her.”
“Gio—”
He gestured, and the guard shoved me hard.
Pain exploded through me as I hit the stairs. Glass tore into my skin. I couldn’t scream, only choke out sounds that tasted of blood. Each push, each fall, left me weaker, until I couldn’t move. My chest burned, my mouth filled with the coppery tang of blood. The world dissolved into pain and ringing.
When I awoke, I was back in the hospital, every inch of my body screaming. Breathing hurt. Moving hurt.
Outside the curtain, two nurses whispered.
“Miss Isolde’s fine already,” one said softly. “President Ramirez’s been by her side every day. Treats her like she’s made of glass.”
The other sighed. “And the woman in bed 302… look at her. Covered in bruises. No one even visits her. Isn’t she his real wife?”
“Shh, don’t speak so loud… you’ll get in trouble.”
Their voices faded. I closed my eyes. My throat ached, but no sound came. Tears slid down my face, soaking into the pillow.
I lingered there for days. Painkillers barely dulled the agony. The doctors could do nothing more.
So, one morning, I signed myself out.
第4章
If I was going to die, I refused to do it alone, under the harsh glare of white lights, waiting for him to remember I existed.
When I returned home, Gio lounged on the couch, scrolling through his phone. His eyes flicked to me briefly, flat and unreadable, then he rose and strode toward his study as if I weren’t even in the room.
“Gio,” I called softly, leaning against the wall for support. My voice cracked. “It’s my birthday in two days.”
He paused, tilting his head. “So?”
“I… I just want to spend it with you. One last time.”
His brow twitched. “Last time? What, are you dying or something?”
I forced a weak smile. “Maybe. Can I?”
He snorted and shook his head. “Fine. I’ll give you a surprise you’ll never forget.” His tone was thick with sarcasm. I knew that look. He was plotting something cruel.
Two days later, I found myself at the hotel he’d texted me about. The moment I stepped through the door, my legs nearly gave out.
The entire hall was stark white and frigid, draped in wreaths of chrysanthemums. A coffin sat at the center. My photo hung on the wall, framed with black ribbon. Guests in black suits turned to look at me, silent. Not a single word.
“Do you like it?” Gio’s voice slithered from the corner. He stepped forward, smirking. “A funeral for your birthday. Thought it would suit you.”
I stared at the photograph, lips trembling, then laughed—a broken, hollow sound. “Y-yeah. I love it.”
For a moment, he froze. “If you love it that much, stay still,” he said, his voice icy, waving his hand.
His friends approached, incense sticks in hand, grinning like predators.
“The sooner you go, the better.”
“Don’t haunt Evander in your next life, okay?”
“Have a safe trip.”
Their laughter echoed in the hall. I just stood there, smiling through it, feeling nothing—or maybe everything. Pain had become a companion.
When it ended, I tried to leave, but Gio’s hand clamped onto my arm.
“What’s your game?” he hissed.
“My game?” I repeated softly.
“Why aren’t you fighting back? You always scream, break things, cry. Why act pathetic now?”
I met his eyes steadily. “It’s not humiliation anymore. I actually… like what you did.”
This time, it felt real. A rehearsal for what was coming.
He stared at me, confusion flickering, then scoffed. “You’re getting creative. But it won’t work, Liora. I’ll never forgive you.”
I said nothing, simply held his gaze until he looked away and stormed off.
---
Back at home, the pain hit me like a physical blow, leaving me breathless. I stumbled into the bathroom, barely reaching the sink before blood began spilling from my mouth, splattering across the tiles like scarlet paint.
I rinsed my mouth, took my pills with trembling hands, and sank into the bathtub. The hot water soothed me for a few fleeting moments.
Later, as I tried to comb my hair, a clump came away in my hand. Staring at my reflection, hollow cheeks and pale lips stared back. Bitterly, I smiled. Was this really me? Could I last another two weeks?
The next morning, I went to a small downtown photo studio. It smelled of aged wood and old film.
The old man behind the counter blinked, startled. “You want what?”
“A memorial photo,” I said simply. “Something nice. Something that shows me when I was still alive.”
He hesitated, then nodded slowly. “I’ll make it beautiful.”
I wore a red dress I hadn’t touched in years, painted my lips, and smiled at the camera as I used to: proud, bright, pretending the world hadn’t broken me.
When it was done, he asked, “Take it home after it’s developed?”
I shook my head. “No. Just fix it a little and send it to this address.”
I wrote down my home address. I wanted my photo beside my sister’s… so even in death, I’d still belong somewhere.
---
The ancestral hall smelled of dust and fading incense. I stood before Sabrina and Evander’s portraits, fingers resting on the black frames as if they were the only thing tethering me to them. Sabrina’s smile was soft, the kind that made the world slow down. Evander’s eyes held the calm I had once hidden in as a child.
“I’ll be with you soon,” I whispered. Pressing my forehead against the glass, I let a single tear fall onto the altar. “This stupid feud… it’s almost over.”
“You think you can come in here whenever you want?” Gio’s voice cut through the quiet like a slap. He was behind me before I could turn. I jumped, my elbow smashing against the frame. Glass shattered with a sharp crack that echoed endlessly.
He didn’t look surprised. He looked furious. His grip on my wrist bruised immediately. “You already killed them! Now you destroy their things too?”
“I-I didn’t mean to,” I stammered, pulling back. “You scared me. If you hadn’t snuck up—”
“Save it.” He shoved me forward. “You have no right to touch any of it.”
“I came to see them. Is that a crime?”
He laughed, sharp and bitter. “See them? You don’t deserve to look at them.”
Before I could regain my footing, two guards stepped up. I slammed into the doorframe with my knee, almost collapsing. “Let me go! Gio, are you insane?”
“You’re the crazy one,” he said, and before I could brace myself, one of the guards forced me down to the center of the hall.
“Since you want to stay, stay here. And atone.”
“I’ll atone in my own way. This isn’t how—”
He didn’t let me finish. His boot slammed down on my knee so fast and hard that the breath was knocked from me.
第5章
I screamed, slamming against the shards of broken glass. Hot lines cut across my skin. Blood soaked through my skirt.
A soft voice called his name. “Gio?” Isolde appeared in the doorway, her eyes wide and glistening with unshed tears. “I’m sorry… Did I come at a bad time?”
Her foot slipped. A candlestick toppled, the flame catching the scattered photos. The edges of the portraits curled, blackened, and smoke rose as Evander and Sabrina’s faces disintegrated into ash.
Gio froze, his expression twisting into something I’d never seen, something that tore at the edges of me. Then, almost gently, he scooped Isolde into his arms as if she were fragile glass.
“I didn’t mean to,” she choked out, tears streaking her face. “Please don’t be angry.”
For a heartbeat, he was nothing but panic. His hands moved over her cheeks, soft and careful, like a man trained to fix any hurt with soothing gestures. “It’s okay,” he murmured into her hair. “It’s fine.”
That look—how he softened, how he rushed—was a blade turning in my chest. I ripped free from the guard’s grip and shoved him. “Wake up! She’s not Sabrina! She’s a cheap imitation who had surgery just to look like my sister!”
Gio’s expression hardened into ice. He gripped my wrist so tightly I feared he might snap a bone. “I know she isn’t,” he said, voice low and controlled. “I know. But can you bring Sabrina back to me? No!”
I opened my mouth, wanting to scream that she was gone, that nothing could fix this—but all I tasted was coppery metal. Tears stung my eyes. He was so close I could see the heat rising from his skin.
“Tie her up,” he ordered. He stepped back, watching me like a judge presiding over a verdict.
Rough ropes cut into my wrists as they forced me to my knees in the center of the ancestral hall—the place where I had once run free as a child. My dress was drenched with blood. Smoke from the burned photos stung my nostrils.
I knelt there, helpless, while he cradled the woman I’d once loved him into hating. I knelt while Sabrina and Evander’s portraits blackened into nothing. I knelt, thinking about how long I had been falling and how there might not be any ground left to hit.
When Gio finally walked out with Isolde, he didn’t glance back. The door slammed so hard the floor shivered. Darkness swallowed the hall. My knees hit the cold stone as I collapsed. Tears fell freely, cutting paths through the grime and blood.
I looked at what remained of Sabrina’s portrait. Half of it was gone—the part with her smile vanished. I laughed bitterly through my tears. “See that, sister? He can’t even tell what’s real anymore.”
I pressed my head to the floor, whispering to no one. “I’ll see you soon. When I get there, tell him yourself, okay? Show him how foolish he’s become.”
Outside, I could faintly hear Gio’s footsteps. The click of his lighter repeated, over and over. I imagined Isolde’s sweet, high voice next, the one that used to make him melt.
“Gio… you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?”
“Go home,” he said flatly.
“But I want to stay with you—”
“I said go.”
Eventually, she left. I heard her heels fading down the hallway. Then silence settled. He remained, though, somewhere near, perhaps staring at the door, perhaps thinking about breaking it open—but he didn’t. He left me, as always, alone.
I don’t remember falling asleep. When they finally untied me, the sun was already dipping low. My legs refused to move properly. My knees were black and blue, my back aching as if someone had beaten me with a bat.
A servant tried to help, but I waved them off. “Don’t. I’m going out.”
They looked frightened to argue. I didn’t have much time left anyway. I just wanted to see my parents—just once.
Across the street, the old house glowed with soft, warm light. For a moment, I almost turned back. But the door opened.
The old housekeeper gasped. “Miss Liora? My God… it’s really you—”
Before he could finish, my father appeared. Pale, then red with anger. “Who told you to come here?”
“D-dad…”
“Get out!” he roared. “You killed Sabrina, and you still have the face to come here?”
My mother stormed out behind him, belt in hand. “We don’t have a daughter like you! You’re cursed!” She swung hard, the belt lashing my back again and again. I didn’t move. I didn’t even try to block it.
“I just wanted to see you,” I whispered. “Just for a minute.”
“What’s there to see?” He kicked my leg. “Go back to your husband. Go die there if you must!”
Die? I smiled bitterly and nodded.
Rain fell suddenly, a relentless downpour that turned the street into mud. They shoved me, I slipped, the belt falling from my mother’s hand but left unretrieved.
I stayed on my knees and bowed three times, forehead touching the wet pavement each time. “Take care of yourselves,” I murmured quietly. “I won’t bother you again.”
Then I turned and walked. Rain soaked me, mingling with my tears until I couldn’t tell one from the other. I walked without knowing where I was going.
A sleek black car slowed beside me, headlights slicing through the storm. The window rolled down. Gio’s face appeared, unreadable and stone-cold, a cigarette perched between his fingers.
He looked at me like I was a stranger.
“Get in the car,” he ordered.
第6章
I didn’t want to get in the car. I might have ruined his seat with my wet clothes. So I kept walking in the rain, pretending I didn’t hear him. The only sound I wanted was my shoes slapping against the pavement.
“If you don’t get in,” Gio said behind me, “I’ll drag you in myself. Choose.”
I froze. The car door clicked open. I didn’t want to fight. I slid inside, water dripping from my hair onto the leather seat. I curled into a corner, hugging my knees, trembling.
He glanced at me and scoffed. “You really are pathetic. Even your own parents kicked you out. Guess they finally saw what kind of person you are.”
I didn’t answer. I just stared out the window. Rain streaked the glass like veins, spreading everywhere, bleeding light.
We didn’t go home. Instead, the car stopped in front of some fancy club.
“Why are we here?” My throat tightened.
He smirked and opened my door. “Come on. Let’s play.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Didn’t ask.” He grabbed my arm. “Don’t act scared now.”
Inside, the lights were dim, the music deafening. Isolde sat in the middle, in her usual white dress, smiling like she owned the room.
“There you are!” she cried when she saw Gio. “We’ve been waiting forever. Let’s play some games!”
Her friends screamed, half-drunk, “Losers get punished!”
The game began—truth or dare, or some twisted variation. Gio and Isolde “accidentally” lost the first round.
“Make them drink the wedding cup!” someone shouted.
Isolde’s cheeks flushed pink from wine. Gio smiled at me, waiting for me to break, and raised his glass.
They lost again. This time, the girls drew a card. “Five-minute kiss. Deep. No cheating.”
The room erupted with cheers.
Before I could even blink, Gio’s hand was at the back of Isolde’s head, and he kissed her like the world wasn’t watching.
I sat frozen, hands trembling under the table. My stomach burned even though all I had was water.
The last punishment was worse. They made him lift Isolde and spin her like a princess. Her laugh filled the room—loud, sweet, triumphant, as if she knew I was watching. And Gio kept glancing at me, waiting for a reaction, waiting for me to scream or run.
I didn’t. I sipped my water, stood, and muttered, “Bathroom.” The hem of my dress brushed his knee as I passed.
Inside the bathroom, cold water splashed across my face. The reflection staring back at me looked dead—pale lips, empty eyes.
When I opened the door, Isolde blocked my path, twirling a strand of hair.
“Still pretending to be calm?” she sneered. “Gio said he was going to make you lose face tonight.”
I tried to sidestep her. “Move.”
She grabbed my wrist. “You think you’re still Mrs. Ramirez? He only married you for revenge. You’re just a placeholder.”
I stepped closer, voice low and steady. “He can hurt me all he wants. But you? You’re a stand-in for a dead woman. You really think that’s something to be proud of?”
Her smile twitched, then sharpened. “At least I’m alive. You won’t be, not for long.”
I narrowed my eyes. “What did you say?”
She leaned close, whispering like a serpent. “You really think your pancreatic cancer was bad luck? Those vitamins you took every morning? I switched them months ago. Same brand, same bottle… mine had a little something extra. A toxin. Slow poison. It burns your pancreas from the inside out.”
My stomach turned cold.
Her eyes glinted with triumph. “I wanted to watch you rot from the inside. And guess what? It worked.”
“How dare you!”
“Yes. How dare me.”
She grabbed my collar, hand raised, ready to strike—but then her eyes flicked over my shoulder. She froze.
Gio.
Her face shifted instantly from venom to panic. She shoved backward, screaming. “Ahhh!”
She hit the floor, clutching her forehead, blood spilling between her fingers.
Gio rushed over, fury shaking his voice. “Liora! You killed your sister, and now you want to kill her too? Do you even know she’s the closest I could find to Sabrina?”
He scooped Isolde up, holding her like fragile glass. The siren of an ambulance wailed in the distance.
Before getting into the car, he turned, eyes like ice. “If she dies, Liora, I’ll make sure you live wishing you didn’t.”
When the car drove off, I stood on the steps, rain hammering down, soaking me through. I laughed bitterly. Gio hated me. His mistress had poisoned me… What was left?
“Life worse than death,” I whispered. “You think I haven’t been living it already?”
I walked home alone. Gio didn’t call. Didn’t show up. But I knew he would. He always did.
At three in the morning, the front door slammed open, jolting me awake. Gio was already beside the bed, eyes colder than ice. He yanked the blanket off and grabbed my wrist.
“Get up,” he ordered. His voice cut through me like a knife. “You’re going to the hospital.”
“Why?” I asked, half-asleep, confused.
He didn’t answer. He pulled harder.
“Gio, stop! You’re hurting me!”
“Isolde needs blood. You have the same type. You’re coming with me.”
My stomach twisted. “It wasn’t me—”
“Shut up.” He shoved me toward the door. “You’ll do what you’re told.”
The ride was silent. Rain streaked the windows, and I counted each drop to keep from crying.
At the hospital, the fluorescent lights stabbed at me. Gio dragged me straight to a small room where a nurse waited.
She looked at me, hesitation flickering in her eyes. “Sir… she’s too pale. We can’t draw blood right now.”
“Why not?” Gio snapped.
The nurse flipped through my chart, frowning. “She has a serious medical condition… late-stage cancer.”
“What?”