Chapter 4
I was staying in a secluded townhouse the man had arranged.
Zita was there too, under protection.
A small sense of security settled over me.
I organized the evidence I had gathered and wrote two letters. I sealed them with the family’s red
wax.
One was addressed to the head of Orlando’s rival family.
The other went to the Marino family’s consigliere. He worked under Orlando and used to be loyal to my father.
That afternoon, after sending the letters, I sat on a park bench, staring blankly at the fallen leaves.
These years of mourning for Orlando felt like a cruel joke.
If he had truly died in the fire set by a rival family, at least things wouldn’t have come to this, and
child would still be alive.
my
”
9
Three days later, the doorbell rang.
I opened the door and saw Orlando standing there, holding two crumpled letters-the very ones I
had sent.
“Willow, don’t do anything foolish.”
He tossed the letters onto the coffee table, his tone heavy with warning.
“Going up against the wrong people never ends well. Zita’s the perfect example.”
I sprang to my feet, my chest heaving violently. “I already promised I would let go and walk away! Why do you have to leave me with nothing?!”
For once, I saw a flicker of guilt in Orlando’s eyes.
His expression was hard to read. Then he pulled me into a hug and said, “I’m sorry, Willow. Don’t do anything reckless. Just live your life.”
I collapsed, sobbing onto the floor. “Orlando… why are you doing this to me?!”
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He said nothing.
The anger and grief I’d been holding in surged back.
Through my tears, I demanded, “Orlando! How dare you!”
“How dare you destroy everything I had and still tell me to live my
He let me strike him, yet his arms tightened around me.
“I’m sorry…” he repeated over and over.
Exhausted from crying, I pushed him away with the last of my strength.
As I left, he handed me a card.
“Let’s end this here. Cynthia still has your photos. I don’t want her hurting you anymore. Take this card. It’s something for you and Zita.”
I smiled at him and nodded.
Zita’s situation wasn’t resolved yet. There was no way I was letting them off the hook.
If I gave up now, that’s exactly what they’d want.
I was hurting, and they weren’t going to enjoy it.
But I didn’t expect that they had no intention of letting me go either.
The next morning, I went to bring Zita breakfast.
As soon as I stepped outside, a black sedan suddenly sped toward me.
The headlights blinded me.
I stepped back without thinking, tripping on the steps.
The car hit me, and I collapsed into a pool of blood. One thought kept screaming in my head. I can’t
die.
As everything started to fade, I felt someone lift me up.
I forced my eyes open and saw a face with sharp, defined features.
His voice was low and gentle.
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“Principessa… I’m here.”
Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
