That night, the manor was weighed down by a suffocating tension.

Luigi mobilized half of the family forces, ordering dozens of armed men in black to surround the main building.

For the first time, these guns were aimed at the Donna's bedroom.

Luigi sat at the end of the long table in the living room, his face dark and unreadable.

"Apologize." His knuckles rapped against the table. "Apologize to Irina. I need to appease my men. She got hurt for the family, and I don't want to shake their loyalty."

He was willing to undermine the foundation of the family and turn the guns on his wife, all for a pathetic stand-in?

I pulled out a bullet from my pocket.

Luigi had gifted it to me seven years ago when he first taught me how to fire a gun. Our initials were engraved on the casing. It signified the days we faced dangerous moments together.

I tossed the bullet onto the table in front of him with a clang.

"You want an explanation?" I gave him a mocking look. "Here you go."

This single bullet marked the point of no return.

After staring at it for a long time, Luigi picked it up and clenched it in his palm. "Okay."

He suddenly got up and threw the bullet into the fireplace.

"I'll send her away." His voice began to tremble. "I'll send Irina away to recuperate. She will never appear in front of you again."

I said nothing, my head splitting with pain.

That night, it became unbearable. I knew the old injury from the explosion seven years ago was flaring up again.

Years ago, my foster father had broken three of my ribs just to tame me because I hadn't learned how to wag my tail like a dog before the auction.

After that, even though Luigi hired the best doctors to treat my condition, the fractures still ached sometimes. It was a constant reminder of the time I was treated like an animal.

I chose to drive to a private clinic alone.

Thunder rolled as rain lashed the windshield. Lightning tore across the night sky.

It was just like the very night that changed my fate seven years ago.

When I arrived at the VIP floor of the clinic, the door was ajar. I was about to push it open when I saw a suffocating scene playing out through the gap of the door.

Irina was holding a sharp surgical knife to her own throat.

"Luigi, swear on your life!" she screamed hysterically, blood trickling down her neck. "Swear that you'll kill Isabella! Or, I'll die right in front of you!"

Luigi was standing right across from her. He never flinched amid gunfire but now wore a face full of panic.

"Irina, don't act rashly!"

He rushed toward her recklessly, snatching the sharp knife from her with his own hands. The blade cut through his palm, causing blood to drip everywhere. However, he couldn't care less about that.

He pulled Irina into his arms and hugged her tightly, as though he never wanted to let her go. "You're safe now…"

This scene felt painfully familiar, like a replay of the past. Only this time, the woman in his arms was someone else.

The door remained slightly open. In his arms, Irina raised her head slowly. Through the mirror on the opposite wall, she cast me a triumphant smile.

Before I could react, Irina suddenly moved. She shoved Luigi aside and picked up the bloodied knife on the ground, then lunged at me by the door.

"Die!"

Years of survival instincts honed within the family made my body react faster than my mind.

I sidestepped the blade, yanked her hair, and slammed my knee into her lower back with all my strength. I forced her down, pinning her to her knees with her face smashed against the cold tile.

The next second, a wave of pain hit me.

Luigi had reacted with startling speed, smashing the butt of his gun against my wrist with force. There was a sickening crack as bones shifted.

I cried out in pain and was forced to release my grip on Irina.

Holding my wrist, I stared at Luigi in disbelief.

Did he just attack me for Irina's sake?

I was already in a foul mood to begin with, and this merely served to stoke my anger.

Biting back the pain, I spun around and slapped Irina hard just as she struggled back to her feet. I put everything I had into that slap.

Irina reeled, the corner of her mouth splitting open.

"Isabella!" Luigi roared, trying to separate us.

I saw red and gave Irina's stomach a forceful kick. Since she claimed to be pregnant, she'd better not blame me for being rough.

Irina curled into a ball, grimacing in agony. Blood quickly spread beneath her.

Without hesitation, Luigi slapped me across the face.

My head snapped sideways, and I tasted blood.

Seeing how savage his expression was, I finally understood that the young man who vowed to protect me was gone for good.

He scooped up the frail Irina in a panic, murmuring endearments that had once been meant for me alone. His eyes were filled with tenderness and panic that I had never seen before.

Luigi finally relented. He turned and gritted his teeth, roaring at me, "Fine! I'll sign the divorce papers. Pack your stuff and get out this instant!"

As I watched him rush away with his new lover—shielding her with such care—the last flicker of love in my heart died, swallowed by the sharp, throbbing pain in my head.

Back home, the family's attorney handed me the signed divorce agreements with trembling hands.

Luigi's signature was messy but forceful.

I accepted the agreement. As everyone watched, I pulled out a lighter.

The flames leaped up. I set fire to the freedom I had once longed for.

I watched as the paper was burned to ashes, floating to the floor.

Facing the stunned attorney and the guards, I made my announcement in an icy voice. "I'm not getting a divorce. Since he chose to break the vows, I'll make widowhood my ending. Prepare for the funeral."

Right then, a confidential file was delivered to me. The sender was none other than Irina.

The message read, "Do you think he's your salvation? Take a look at the truth, you pitiful woman."

I pulled out the old document from the file. The yellowed paper showed a transaction record from the underground auction seven years ago.