In the year I believed in pure love, Matteo Bianchi broke into the hotel and crippled the man who tried to rape me. Although he wasn’t heavily punished, the act left a mark on his life. The heir of a rich family was then driven from home and fell into a life of street thugs.

At the worst moments, I held Matteo and cried, asking if he regretted what he had done. He only smiled with affection.

His response was, "How could I regret it? Your innocence matters more than my life!"

He continued, promising, "I will be loyal to you for the rest of my life. If you're safe, all the suffering will be worth it!"

Matteo continued to fight fiercely to protect me. In doing so, he also rose to power. Everyone knew I was Mr. Bianchi’s favored one, untouchable and safe from harm.

On our wedding anniversary, I opened his safe and found a thick stack of papers. It was pregnancy test results, kindergarten admission notices. It turned out that he had fathered a child without telling me.

Matteo did not try to explain. He cut off the hand of the bodyguard right in front of me, threw the severed hand at my feet and raised an eyebrow.

"If you can't even keep your things safe, this hand is useless!" he shouted coldly.

I laughed coldly and slammed a divorce agreement in his face.

"Stop talking and sign it."

He only laughed back in response.

"I told you. We'll never divorce!"

"You can leave, do whatever you want. But I'll see if you dare to kill me!"

——

"In this life, we'll belong to each other and be buried together," he said.

That was the promise both Matteo and I had made at eighteen. But on that day, I understood that even pure love could rot and even the most beautiful vows could expire. And when things expired, they should be ended.

I pulled a knife hidden under the sofa and stabbed at his neck. Matteo did not dodge. Instead, he stepped forward and met the blade. At the last moment I twisted my wrist and the knife sank into his shoulder.

He smiled, but the hand holding the knife trembled.

"What? Can't you bring yourself to do it?" he asked.

"Victoria, we've come this far. There is no reason to end like this over something small," he continued.

He said, "That child was an accident. If you don't want him, I'll have him sent abroad in a few days."

An accident, he said?

Five years earlier, enemies had attacked him. I took three of the strikes meant for him. One to my chest, one to my thigh and one that went through my uterus. It took the baby I carried at one month.

The doctor said I might never bear a child again. I did not cry when I read the test results, but Matteo’s eyes had gone red with grief. He knelt before me, weeping, slapping his face until it was swollen.

"Victoria, it's my fault. I couldn't protect you!" he cried.

He held me tightly, blood from his forehead dripping onto my face. Even as he shook from pain, he refused to let my hand go.

"Victoria, I don't want the child. I don't want anything. I only want you!" he shouted.

"We will never be apart in this life. I will never let you down, even if I die!"

Each word had sounded certain. But that careless certainty broke the last piece of my dignity. I sneered, pulled out a photograph and shoved it into his face.

"Don't bother. I've already fixed your 'accident.' I had gone to the kindergarten. It was a nice place, but the security was weak."

Matteo’s bastard had tears running down his face. He had knelt there with a gun to his head. I watched the veins stand out on my husband’s forehead. In ten years together, he had never shown anger toward me. Now, because of another woman and a child, his eyes held the intent to kill.

Matteo pressed me against the wall, pulled the knife from his shoulder and turned the blade so the tip pointed at my neck.

"How could you attack my child!" he shouted.

"Victoria, have I treated you so well that you've forgotten who you are?" he added.

"Without me protecting you, you'd be dead long ago!"

"But now you’ve become too arrogant. You cannot protect your own child, so you attack other children. You are fucking monster! How can you be capable of such a thing?"

Although every word cut me, I kept my face calm and smiled.

"Didn’t you always say if we had to end things, one of us would have to die?" I asked.

"Since no one dared to do it, I’ll ask you myself!"

I shouted, "Kill me now! If I'm not dead, you won't have a good life!"

However, the blood-stained knife failed to reach my neck. Instead, Matteo met my stubborn eyes, while his smile softened.

"Victoria, I’ve told you that we don’t need to fight to the death because of this," he said.

After that, he told me, "You decide what to do with the child. I will not ask whether he lives or dies."

"This matter ends here. Don’t mention it again. Understand?" he ordered.

Matteo was as cold as ever, like the part of me that felt nothing. He did not look back, did not sign the papers and slammed the door as he left. For ten years, I had never ever seen his back until now.

In my memory, he used to run to me through blood and chaos, always shielding me with his body. His back had always seemed firm and sure. But now I noticed a small tremor of worry beneath that strength.

I curled my lips into a bitter smile and called my bodyguard.

"Release him. I'm not cruel enough to harm a child."

"But I want the child's mother's information in ten minutes," I told him.

Unfortunately, my people found almost nothing. With Matteo’s power, saving someone would have been easy. That was why I could only find a few clues. Those few clues broke the fragile control I had over my feelings.

Five years ago, Matteo was not with me the night I lost my baby. I had thought he had taken his men out to avenge me. He had not.

Instead, Matteo had been only a few steps away. He was with another woman as she gave birth. So, the betrayal had started early.

When my husband had sworn he would never let me down in this life, my body and my heart had already begun to drift apart. I swallowed the sudden pain, gripped the bloodied knife and slashed it through the screen.

Deep love had been broken and only hatred remained between us. Before I could take the child home, the mother was unable to control her anger. Sylvia Bruno came to my door.

The moment she pushed the door open, Sylvia shoved a dagger at my chest.

"Bitch, you touch my child and I will kill you!" she screamed.

I turned my head without thinking. The blade tore through my arm, leaving a long, bleeding wound. Flesh split while the blood poured out.

I pretended not to feel the pain. Then, I grabbed her hair and slammed her head into the doorframe.

My men held Sylvia down until she fell to her knees. That woman did not cry. She just stared at me with fierce eyes. She was truly beautiful, with eyes as clear as the naive me had once been.

The same savage look burned in her face that I now had inside me. It was a pity she had no idea that she could not leave this without paying a heavy price. I picked up a baseball bat leaning against the wall and brought it down hard on her leg.

The sound of breaking bone mixed with her screams, but it gave me no pity.

I enjoyed Sylvia’s agony, treating it like an offering to the love I once held. Before I could strike her a second time, the door burst open with a loud crash. A rush of cold air swept in, carrying fury with it.

The barrel of a black pistol was aimed at me.

Matteo’s voice was ice-cold as he ordered me, “Victoria, release her! Don’t make me turn this into something far worse.”

He held the gun firmly in one hand while pulling Sylvia into his embrace with the other. His eyes were tender with his tone full of reassurance as he told her, “Don’t be scared. I’m here now.”

Those words felt painfully familiar. A decade ago, he had said the exact same thing as he stumbled toward me through pools of blood and chaos. I couldn’t help but laughed until tears fell.

“What if I refuse?” I asked, my voice trembling with rage.

He chuckled coldly in response.

“You’ve already messed with the boy. That should be enough. Let her go, walk away and we can pretend this never happened. That’s the best outcome for both of us.”

I knew Matteo too well to miss the hidden threat behind his calm smile. His voice was soft, but there was true killing intent beneath it. Through all our years together, I had relied on him completely, drowning in his gentleness.

I had almost forgotten how many bodies he had stepped over to reach the throne he now sat upon. Instead of anger, I felt a wave of bitter humiliation. Grabbing his hand, I forced the muzzle of the gun to my forehead.

“Go on, shoot me!” I shouted.

“Matteo, you know my nature. If I walk out of here alive today, you’ll be burying your precious mistress here!”

The sharp sound of a bullet being chambered cut through the room like a blade. Matteo’s eyes turned bloodshot as he clamped his hand around my throat.

“Do you think I’m afraid of you?” he growled.

“I’ll spare the boy, but you will not lay a finger on her!”

“Victoria, don’t push me too far!”

I stared back at him without blinking. To him, my face was like an unreadable mask. The tense standoff was abruptly interrupted by the sharp ring of his phone.

Matteo released me and answered, listening silently. When he hung up, his expression shifted. After that, his features softened once more.

He reached out and gently patted Sylvia’s head, his gaze filled with tenderness.

“The boy is safe. You’ve heard enough today. Let’s leave. Don’t come back here again.”

Sylvia’s eyes were red as she limped toward the exit. She thought she could end everything with just a few simple words. It was far too easy. So, I lifted my chin slightly and my bodyguard immediately blocked her path.

Matteo shot me a cold, cutting glance. After so many years, we could read each other with just a look. Then, he curved his lips into a soft smile and called out to Sylvia, “Come here and apologize to Victoria before you leave.”

Sylvia froze, resentment and grievance swirling in her eyes. But she still obeyed, walking stiffly toward me and dropping to her knees.

She said, her voice trembling, “Miss Morelli, I acted on impulse. I came here without knowing the full truth.”

“It was wrong of me to hurt you … but you’ve also lost a child yourself. You should understand how I feel, shouldn’t you?”

“A mother who can’t even protect her own child is nothing but trash.”

Though it sounded like an apology, her words were cruel. I raised my hand and slapped her across the face with a loud crack.

“The last person who dared speak to me like that is nothing but dust now,” I hissed.

“How many lives do you think you have? How dare you defy me?”

Sylvia covered her face, sobbing like a cornered animal. I sneered and struck her again, the slap echoing through the room. She managed to stay upright, but I staggered and fell to the floor.

Before I could move, Matteo’s foot came down on my hand, pinning me to the ground. His cold indifference was like a stranger’s face.

“I warned you not to touch her!” he shouted.

“Victoria, why must you target someone innocent?”

My cheek throbbed, while the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. My lips curved into a bloodstained smile. Over the years, I had sent at least a hundred souls to their graves without hesitation because of Matteo.

And yet here I was, struck down by the man who had ordered to kill those men for me.