After Matteo left, I began to pack.

Just as I finished, Leo woke up.

I bent down, nuzzling his soft cheek.

His eyes crinkled into little crescents, and he let out a happy gurgle.

But a familiar sting burned behind my eyes, and tears began to fall.

The thought of leaving him tomorrow filled me with a grief I couldn't contain.

But I couldn't stay. I was so tired. I didn't want to be entangled with Matteo anymore.

And I couldn't take Leo with me.

Because long before he was born, I had promised Matteo's mother, Donna Isabella, that I would leave the child with the Bellini family.

I took the money. I couldn't go back on my word.

I sat by the crib, humming a lullaby, cherishing these last few moments alone with my son.

Night fell over the manor.

Suddenly, my phone lit up with a series of messages.

I opened them.

It was Liliana again, taunting me.

A luxury hotel suite, rumpled bedsheets, and Matteo's family ring—the one he never took off—resting casually on the nightstand. Every detail was a calculated display of their recent tryst.

She made no effort to hide her malice.

"Matteo was like a starving wolf just now. Said I'm much more exciting than you."

"He also said he'll never touch you again. He finds you boring."

In the past, I had cried myself to sleep over Liliana, hysterically demanding to know why Matteo was humiliating me this way.

Now, however, my heart was a placid lake.

I calmly typed my reply.

"Well, what do we have here? The Venti family's prized pet finally learned how to use a phone."

Liliana's fury was immediate.

"Who are you calling a pet? You're just jealous that Matteo loves me."

Jealous?

I used to be. Madly.

Back then, I had actually dreamed of growing old with Matteo.

My story with Matteo didn't have a fairy-tale beginning. My father, a loyal soldato for the Bellini family, died in a shootout saving Matteo's own father.

After his death, I was taken in to live at the Bellini estate.

The family elders were kind to me.

Matteo, too, solemnly promised he would take care of me for the rest of his life.

As we grew up, we naturally fell in love.

We held hands, we embraced, we kissed, and we shared countless nights together.

But he never once mentioned marriage.

He was a free spirit who refused to be tied down, seeing marriage as nothing more than a cage.

He said it would be perfect if we could just be lovers forever.

But I couldn't be as carefree as him.

With his looks and status, women threw themselves at him constantly.

Though he never truly crossed a line, he couldn't resist a little flirtatious banter in his social circles.

My anxiety hit a fever pitch when I saw a woman, face flushed with wine and intention, toast him, and he accepted it with a charming smile.

I argued with him. I made scenes. I demanded he keep other women at a distance.

At first, he would just smile and ruffle my hair.

"Sweetheart, don't overthink it. I'm not interested in her."

"In that kind of setting, I can't just humiliate someone."

"She tried to contact me after, but I never replied."

He showed me his phone, and it was true. There was no follow-up.

But the unease never left me.

I wanted him to be as firm in his rejections as I was with my own pursuers.

But he couldn't do it.

His gentlemanly facade was too accommodating.

Later, as my scenes became more frequent, he grew annoyed, his brow furrowing with impatience.

"Scarlett, I told you, there's nothing between me and them!"

"Can't you just trust me? Stop being so suspicious and paranoid, like some madwoman."

He could never understand the terror that gripped my heart.

He had no idea how terrified I was of losing him.

My panic took over, and I schemed to get pregnant with his child.

I naively believed an heir would make him settle down, change his mind about marriage, and finally make me his wife.

I needed a title, a guarantee to secure my place.

But reality was the brutal opposite of my fantasy.

When Matteo found out I was pregnant, there wasn't a flicker of joy—only the cold fury of being manipulated.

His gaze was like a shard of ice.

"Scarlett, you don't actually think an embryo is going to make me go soft, do you?"

"If you don't get rid of it, I'll make you disappear."

It was Donna Isabella who stopped him, her voice sharp as she scolded him.

"You dare touch my grandson, and you can get the hell out of this house!"

Isabella had been dreaming of a grandchild and had long been unhappy with Matteo's refusal to marry and start a family.

She would never allow him to harm the child I was carrying.

Defeated by his mother, Matteo stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

Isabella took my hand, her voice soothing.

"Scarlett, just focus on your pregnancy. Don't be afraid of that bastard. He's not thinking straight right now."

"Once the baby is born and he sees how adorable his child is, he'll change his tune."

"When that time comes, I'll make sure he gives you a proper wedding."

At that moment, I truly believed her. I thought things might turn around.

But then, Liliana appeared publicly at Matteo's side.