Dr. De Luca's brows pulled together.

"No. I would never let you sell yourself,"  he said firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument. "I've already spoken to a charity organization connected to our hospital. They fund cases where families can't afford treatment. I'm confident they'll approve Renzo's case."

Rosa's eyebrows lifted slightly as her dull gaze began to shimmer with hope. "Thank you..." she whispered, her voice choked with emotion.

"Of course," Dr. De Luca said gently. "It's the least I can do."

He paused, then added with a polite smile, "By the way... are you free tonight?"

"Yes, Doctor?" Rosa replied softly, unsure what he meant.

"Actually... I wanted to discuss Renzo's treatment in more detail," he said, choosing his words carefully. "But I have a surgery scheduled now, and I won't be free until late. I was wondering if... maybe we could talk over dinner? Only if you're comfortable, of course." 

"Of course," Rosa agreed softly. She was already deeply grateful he was helping and personally taking care of her son's treatment. Besides, she also wanted to discuss the next steps-especially if she had to move out of the country again.

"Alright then." Dr. DeLuca's smile widened. "I'll text you the location. How does eight o'clock sound?"

"Fine," Rosa nodded as she got up. "Thank you," she added before walking out, Lucy following behind.

"I think Dr. DeLuca likes you," Lucy teased with a smirk.

"Nonsense. He's Renzo's doctor and just concerned about his patient. Perhaps he wants to discuss something important." Rosa waved off her friend's remark.

"But asking his patient's mother out to dinner?" Lucy smirked. "He could've just discussed it over the phone, you know."

"Maybe he wants to talk face-to-face. The treatment is intense, and we still have to wait nine months-even though I'm pregnant. I need to make sure my Renzo recovers completely," Rosa murmured, her voice drifting off as her mind wandered.

"Rosa," Lucy's voice turned serious, gently bringing her back to the present. "If you're pregnant... you're going to have another baby. That means-"

"More responsibility. I know. And I'm ready for it," Rosa said firmly. But deep down, her heart trembled with anxiety. The treatment, the pregnancy... She didn't even know how she'd manage the payments.

In the evening, Rosa met Dr. DeLuca for dinner. Lucy had insisted she wear something nice rather than those boring clothes and had lent her her hottest outfit: a white crop top and black mini skirt.

After placing their orders, he looked at her seriously and said, "The stem cell transplant is going to be very expensive. You should be prepared."

"I'll do anything to pay for the treatment," Rosa replied desperately. "Can you help me find an organ recipient? I want to sell one of mine."

Dr. DeLuca pressed his lips together, staring at the woman before him with an intensity that made her feel awkward. 

Finally, he exhaled and said firmly, "I won't let you do that, Rosa. And I've already told you that for the treatment-I'm already in talks with one of the largest charity organizations that supports cases like this. I'm confident they'll agree to cover the expenses."

Rosa suddenly looked overwhelmed with emotion. "Thank you so much, Dr. DeLuca. I can't express how much this means to me. I'll be indebted to you for the rest of my life." Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. When she had thought every door was closed, when even her own family had turned away, here he was-willing to help her without any obligation or relation.

"First of all, call me Samuele," he said gently. "And I'm a doctor-it's my duty to ensure my patients get the treatment they need and recover."

"Still... you're like a godsend to me. I can't even thank you enough."

"That's fine, Rosa. Don't overthink it," Dr. DeLuca chuckled softly and covered her hand with his, a quiet gesture of comfort.

But just then, someone grabbed her arm and yanked her out of her chair with such force she gasped in pain.

"Ow-what the hell-?"

"You really don't waste time, do you?"  came a cold, menacing voice.

Rosa's eyes widened in shock as she turned and saw Don Luciano Mancini standing there, fury blazing in his eyes and his jaw clenched tight. "Already moving on to the next man? Is that what this is?"

Luciano’s cold blue eyes narrowed as they locked on the woman laughing softly across the table from another man.

His ex-wife.

His blood boiled.

She looked like sin wrapped in silk—a knee-length black skirt clinging to her hips, a white crop top hugging that fuckable little body, blonde hair tumbling over her shoulders like she walked out of a wet dream. And across from her sat some polished prick in a suit, bold enough to rest his damn hand over hers like she already belonged to him.

Luciano’s fists clenched.

So this is what she’d sunk to? Playing high-class slut in fancy hotels, spreading her legs for any man with a fat wallet?

A bitter taste filled his mouth as memories came flooding back. Five years ago, after that night—the one he couldn’t remember because Rosa had drugged him—he’d woken up naked beside her, blood staining the sheets. Panic had gripped him. And then Laura, Rosa’s cousin and his girlfriend at the time, had told him that Rosa had staged the whole thing, faking her being a virgin and even using blood as part of a trap to tie him down with guilt. Laura had also claimed that Rosa had always been a gold digger, that she’d slept around before, and only wanted to stake a claim to his name—to trap him in their unwanted marriage forever.

The fury that had followed was blinding. He’d felt violated, manipulated, humiliated. No one had ever dared to play him like that. No one made a fool out of him.

 And the Italian Don had decided to make his cunning little wife pay for her filth. He divorced her and sent her away, wanting nothing more than to erase that deceptively innocent face from his life. Back then, he was young and blinded by rage. Over time, a part of him had questioned if he’d been too harsh.

But that guilt vanished after seeing her last night—playing the same damn trick all over again. She hadn’t changed. They said looks could be deceiving, and with her, that saying couldn’t be more true. Now, seeing her whoring herself out for money in luxury hotels, he felt no regret. She deserved every bit of what he did to her.

The fury only intensified when he saw her shamelessly laughing with that man, seducing him with those innocent looks and dangerously alluring beauty.

Such a bitch.

Hadn't she been screaming his name all night? Moaning beneath him like she couldn’t get enough—clawing at his back, begging him not to stop as he buried himself deep in her tight, soaking heat and drove into her again and again?

And now… now she didn’t even wait a goddamn day before crawling back into another man’s lap?

Was she that desperate? For sex? For money? Or both?

Why would he care if she slept with the whole city? He didn’t care for a whore. Would he?

But what enraged him even more was the burning in his chest—the thought of her using the same seductive tricks, those sensual moves she’d used on him last night, now on another man.

Would she moan that bastard’s name the way she screamed his when he was buried deep inside her?

Would that man touch her the same way he did just hours ago, like he owned every inch of her?

The fury boiled over. Before he could think rationally, he was at their table, grabbing her hand and yanking her toward him.

Her soft brown eyes blinked up at him before panic spread across her face.

"Mr. Mancini… w-what are you doing here?"

"Come with me," he said coldly, already grabbing her wrist and dragging her with him.

"Hey, mister! Leave her alone!"

The interrupting voice made Luciano frown. He turned toward the man in the suit, who protested, stepping forward—but was quickly blocked by Luciano’s bodyguards.

"Shut up and stay the fuck away from her," Luciano snapped, not sparing the man another glance as he pulled Rosa along, ignoring her protests.

He didn’t stop until they reached the private room he had reserved for an urgent business meeting—

A meeting that clearly wasn’t happening now.

His mood had been completely ruined because of this woman.

“Mr. Mancini, let me go! Are you out of your mind?” she yelled at him in frustration.

He grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her face close until their breaths collided, hot and uneven.

“You done playing your little games, Rosie?” he hissed, his voice low and laced with venom. “Or do you need a reminder of whose name you were screaming last night?”

She smiled seductively, masking the fear in her heart, which made her pulse race like a jet engine.

"Mr. Mancini, that was part of my service. After all, that's what I get paid for-to satisfy men, give them everything they want, make them feel excited in their bed," she replied, trying to control her shattering breath.

Luciano's expression darkened; his blue eyes turned black with a murderous instinct. For some reason, his heart clenched with anger and jealousy at the thought of his ex-wife screaming another man's name in their bed.

He tightened his grip and mercilessly yanked her hair back, forcing her head to lift and her eyes to meet his. She winced but managed a smile-one that only made him angrier.

"Such a shameless woman you are. I thought I knew you, but no-I never understood you, never saw this side of you," he gritted through clenched teeth.

"I'm sorry if I led you into some misunderstanding," she murmured, keeping her tone sensual-or perhaps it was Luciano who heard each word leaving her mouth as if it were designed to seduce him.

"I have a girlfriend, and I'm going to marry her in a few days. And you... you dared to crawl into my bed and make me fuck you. Don't you fear the consequences?" he breathed out in such a dangerous way that anyone else in her place would have started crying and begging for their life.

She was also very terrified. From the very beginning of her plan, she had known she was going to ask for her death while lying with her mafia ex-husband-but she had to do it. With no other choice, she was helpless as she entered the lion's den and challenged him.

"Don Mancini, you're talking like that as if it means something to you. When we were married, you never thought about morals, never cared-always maintaining your relationship with your girlfriend. So why is it a big deal now? Sleeping around is your hobby, isn't it?" she mocked, though the pain in her heart flared at the memory of how he used to make her the object of ridicule in public while flaunting his love for his girlfriend.

It wasn't her mistake to marry him, to come between him and his girlfriend. He had agreed to the marriage himself; she hadn't put a gun to his head to force him.

"You had become very bold, huh?!" he taunted with a death glare as he tightened his grip on her hair and pulled her face closer. Their breaths mixed, their lips almost touching. She sucked in a breath, trying not to close her eyes. Fuck-he still had that effect on her.

"No, Mr. Mancini, how can I have the courage to be anything before you? I told you, if I had known it was you, I would have never come to that room. I still apologize. Please forget about that night and think of it as a mistake. Please let me go, sir," she said in a pleading tone.

She didn't want to die by the hand of her cruel ex-husband-not when she still had a purpose in her life and her son needed her the most. She couldn't afford to die.

Mistake?! 

Luciano's jaw clenched, and he hadn't let go of her hair. She was still in his grasp, like a deer caught in a wolf's jaws and yet she had the courage to talk back while looking into his eyes. She looked nothing like the Rosa he had known five years ago.

But the truth was, after trying hard, Luciano couldn't forget about last night, and for some strange reason, he wanted her even more. And when she called it a mistake and apologized, his blood boiled. Was she challenging his bedroom skills? No woman had ever complained. And his ex-wife had the audacity to forget, after he had put so much effort into her in bed-something he had never done in sex before. Now she was truly going to regret it. He would make sure of that.

"So you sleep with anyone for money, right?" he narrowed his eyes, breathing over her lips.

She swallowed before letting out a soft, "Hmm."

"Then I'm paying you in advance for two weeks," he offered. "For two weeks, you're mine and can't see other men."

Her eyes widened in shock. No, that couldn't be happening. She started panicking because she couldn't afford to be in bed with her cruel mafia husband another night; two weeks were out of the question. And if she stayed longer with him, she feared he would sense her true intention and the secret she was hiding from him.

So whatever excuse came to her mind next, she blurted it out in desperation to escape this cruel Italian don. "That can't be happening, Mr. Mancini, because I don't stay with the same man every night."