Chapter 7 “The Price of Revenge”

The weight of Valentina in Vicenzo’s arms was light, almost ethereal, but the guilt he carried was crushing. He walked quickly through the hotel’s service corridors, the muscles in his arm tense, cold sweat sliding down his temple, while the muffled sound of his shoes against the carpet seemed to echo the fury boiling in his chest. It was not anger at the press, nor at that manipulative woman he had left behind. It was anger at himself. Idiot. Fool. How could I have been so blind? He had been so obsessed with dismantling Giulia, with every detail of his cruel plan, that he forgot about Valentina. Forgot to prepare her for the circus he himself had staged.

Vicenzo’s knuckles were white as he gripped the side of Valentina’s inert body. She was his responsibility. A silent promise he had made to himself the day Luca died. He blamed himself for his friend’s death, believed with every fiber of his being that Luca had been murdered only to hurt him, to break the man he was. And he failed. Failed to protect the soul-brother who had protected him so many times before.

The image of Luca, his shield, his brother, rose in his mind so vividly that the smell of mold and disinfectant from the orphanage seemed to invade his nostrils. He, Vicenzo, only ten years old, face swollen and nose bleeding, trying to fight back against two older boys who had cornered him on the cracked concrete court. Luca, one year older, thin but with a fury in his eyes that would make anyone step back, threw himself in front of him.

“Leave him alone, Vicenzo! It’s not worth it!” Luca’s voice, hoarse with anger, echoed. “Go pick on someone your own size, you cowards!”

Luca took a punch to the face, his lip splitting, but he did not fall. He stood back up, eyes fixed on the aggressors, and Vicenzo knew, in that instant, that Luca was his shield, his brother, his only family. Luca had always been there. Always.

Luca’s shout still echoed in his ears, but the real weight of Valentina in his arms pulled him back to the present. He shook his head, pushing away the painful memory, and quickened his pace. He reached a private room away from the main hall and carefully laid Valentina on a dark velvet sofa. She was pale, her lips bluish, and the sight of her so fragile tightened Vicenzo’s chest.

“A doctor. Now,” he growled to one of the guards following him, his voice filled with urgency that allowed no questions, his eyes fixed on the door, waiting for a response.

He knelt beside the sofa, his large, strong hand hovering over Valentina’s face without touching her. She was not just Luca’s sister; she was the younger sister he never had, the one he had promised to protect. He had taken on Luca’s responsibility, the legacy of a brother who had left too soon.

Valentina’s eyes opened slowly, cloudy and filled with pain. She blinked a few times, her vision still blurred, but focusing on his face. A single tear slid down her temple.

“You can’t marry her, Vicenzo,” she murmured, her voice weak but filled with a desperate plea that struck him deeply. “Please, Vicenzo, don’t do this.”

Vicenzo sat on the edge of the sofa beside her, her body still fragile but her eyes now fixed on him. He took her hand, his large fingers wrapping around hers with a gentleness that contrasted with the hardness in his gaze.

“Valentina, look at me,” he said, his voice low but firm. “What happened out there, all of this… it’s a circus. A revenge plan. Designed to make Giulia Salvatore suffer. Every drop of humiliation, every tear she sheds, will be the price she pays for taking Luca from us. And when she is broken, I will end her once and for all.”

Valentina tightened her grip on his hand, her eyes filled with tears.

“But you don’t need to marry her, Vicenzo,” she pleaded, her voice choked. “You don’t need to tie yourself to that woman. There are other ways to make her pay. I can—”

Vicenzo interrupted her, his voice still gentle but edged with steel that allowed no opposition. He released her hand, and the gesture, though soft, was a reminder of his authority.

“I am not a man who can be controlled, Valentina. And my plan is already in motion. There is no turning back.”

She recoiled slightly, the plea in her eyes turning into a shadow of despair.

“And what if you fall in love with her?” the question slipped out, almost a whisper.

Vicenzo let out a short, cold laugh, a sound that did not reach his eyes. He shook his head, a sarcastic smile playing on his lips.

“Fall in love? I am incapable of loving, Valentina. And if I were capable, it would not be her. A con artist, a murderer, the woman who destroyed Luca? Never.”

Valentina blinked, the solitary tear drying against her skin.

“You promise?” she asked, her voice almost inaudible.

Vicenzo nodded, his gaze unwavering. At that same moment, his phone vibrated in his suit pocket. He took it out, looked at the screen, and sighed.

“I need to take this. I’ll come back to check on you. Rest.”

He stood, his imposing figure filling the doorway before disappearing, leaving Valentina alone in the private room.

The fragile air that had surrounded her vanished the moment the door closed. Valentina straightened on the sofa, abandoning the victim’s posture. A slow, sarcastic smile spread across her lips, sharp as a blade.

“Oscar goes to me,” she murmured to the empty room, her voice now filled with dark triumph. “Perfect.”

The anger that had been contained began to dominate her again. She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. Damn Giulia. A curse slipped from her lips as the memory of the shock she had felt the day before returned with full force.

It was almost the end of the workday, the sun already setting in shades of orange and purple over the Las Vegas horizon, when her partner, Enrico, called her into his law office.

“Valentina, I have a special contract for you to draft,” he said, his voice carrying a peculiar tone.

She rolled her eyes, an impatient sigh escaping.

“Enrico, you know I’m overloaded. You could have given it to someone else.”

But then her eyes fell on the client’s name on the memorandum he handed her: Vicenzo Moretti.

A chill ran down her spine. She took the paper, her heart racing. It was indeed time to reappear in Vicenzo’s life, and in a different role than “the dead friend’s sister he wanted to protect.” She ignored when Enrico, with an enigmatic smile, said:

“Careful not to fall when you read what it’s about.”

Valentina only nodded, her mind already spinning with possibilities. But when she reached her office, the smile died on her lips. Her eyes ran over the first lines of the document. It was a marriage contract. A very strange contract, filled with abusive clauses, but a damn marriage.

Anger and despair rose in her mind like a toxic wave. She had been in love with Vicenzo since their orphanage days, since they were both children no one wanted, united by pain and exclusion. She had been waiting for her chance, the right moment to make him see her, to see her not as Luca’s sister but as the woman who had always been by his side. And now, he was going to get married.

The final blow was reading the name of the probable wife: Giulia Salvatore. Her brother’s former fiancée.

Valentina laughed, a dry, humorless sound. She knew that this marriage was pure revenge, a trap for Giulia. But that did not mean she would let “her man” marry someone else, much less that viper. Fury consumed her. With trembling hands, she began drafting the contract, adding clauses so humiliating and cruel that even Vicenzo, on his best day as a heartless man, would not have imagined them. She thought it would be enough to make Giulia run back to whatever hole she had crawled out of.

But then her informant at the hotel called. He warned her that Vicenzo was going to announce the engagement publicly.

Anger turned into panic. Her silent sabotage plan had failed. All she had left was dramatic theater, the scene in the hall, to try to reclaim Vicenzo for herself, to remind him of her loyalty. But he was not going to give up now.

Valentina stood from the sofa and walked to the window, her eyes fixed on the city lights turning on below. Her new plan was simple and brutal: to add so much pain to Giulia’s life that she would either kill herself or go to hell. Valentina did not care which one she chose, as long as it was far from Vicenzo. Far from her.