Chapter 3
Siena's POV
I had been dragged to the hospital, too.
I never could have imagined that Marcello's cruelty would far exceed my darkest nightmares.
In the hospital, Camilla wept a river of delicate tears, claiming that merely looking at me brought back the agonizing memories of her years in exile.
She even slit her own wrists, using the threat of death to force Marcello's hand.
"Marcello, I don't want our future tainted by some other woman's bastard."
Those were the exact words I heard Camilla say as I stood outside her ward.
And Marcello's reply dragged me straight down to hell.
"Alright. I promise you."
That very night, several Mafia enforcers forcibly dragged me out of the guest room.
Down in the basement's private clinic, the surgical lights were so blindingly harsh they made me dizzy.
I was pinned ruthlessly against the freezing operating table, my limbs strapped down by thick leather belts.
Marcello stood behind the glass partition, a cigar clamped between his teeth.
"Marcello! You can't do this! This is your flesh and blood too!"
I screamed in absolute despair, thrashing so violently that the leather straps rubbed my wrists raw and bloody.
Tears and sweat mingled together, blurring my vision.
"Have you forgotten? Last month in Sicily, you told me yourself that you wanted a daughter with ocean-blue eyes! You said you would spoil her into the proudest princess in the entire Mafia..."
"Marcello, please, I'm begging you! This is your child too!"
He blew out a ring of smoke, his deep eyes devoid of a single ripple of emotion.
His voice crackled through the intercom, crashing into my personal hell without a shred of warmth:
"Be obedient and get rid of it. Those were just sweet words to keep you happy."
"Camilla's mental state is too fragile for any shocks right now. Once she's emotionally stable, we can always have another one later."
Just sweet words.
Sacrificing a living, breathing life just to make way for a woman full of lies. It turned out that his once deeply affectionate promises meant absolutely nothing in the face of a single tear from Camilla.
I stared fixedly at the man, the very last shred of hope in my heart instantly turning to dead ash.
"Marcello, I curse you! I curse you to never find true love in this lifetime, and I pray you die a miserable death!"
The freezing, merciless surgical instruments invaded my body.
The agonizing dual torment—both physical and psychological—made me black out instantly.
When I next woke up, I was on a yacht heading for international waters.
It was a high-stakes transaction for the Giovanni family.
To appease Camilla, Marcello had actually brought her along by his side.
As for me—now nothing but a broken shell who had just lost her child—I was casually tossed into the lower hold.
The wound in my abdomen was still seeping blood, and every breath brought a tearing, agonizing pain.
Right at that moment, chaos erupted.
Assassins from a rival family had already laid an ambush out on the open sea.
A deafening explosion ripped through the night sky.
Raging flames engulfed the yacht, and the hull began to tilt violently.
The door to the lower hold was blown open. Dragging my bleeding body, I painstakingly crawled my way up to the deck.
Gale-force winds howled while the Atlantic waters churned like a black abyss.
On the deck, flames roared into the sky.
A burning mast collapsed with a thunderous crash, smashing down right toward Camilla.
"Marcello! Save me!" Camilla shrieked in despair.
On the other side, two assassins had already raised their guns, aiming squarely at me.
Marcello stood right between us.
Without a single second of hesitation.
He lunged toward Camilla, fiercely shielding her beneath his body, simultaneously drawing his gun to shoot the assassin near the mast.
As for me?
Amidst the blazing firelight, he merely glanced back and coldly threw out a single command:
"Find cover yourself! Wait for me to come back!"
I stared at his back as he held Camilla tight.
Blood trickled down my thighs, staining the deck red.
No, Marcello.
We will never see each other again.
I turned around, faced the violent ocean winds, and spread my arms wide.
Right before the assassins fired their bullets, I closed my eyes and willingly let myself fall backward.
The bone-chilling seawater swallowed me in an instant.
