My back was still bleeding, but my parents didn't even give me enough time to recover.

At sunrise, my papa personally drove me to the drug trial center designated by the famiglia.

"Go in. And don't try anything," he said coldly.

I didn't look back. Dragging my battered body behind me, I walked into the building, a place that felt oppressive and sinister the moment I crossed the threshold.

The trial center's rooms were cramped, the air heavy with the biting scent of disinfectant and chemicals.

A man in a white lab coat came to meet me. His eyes were sharp and calculating. He was a researcher assigned by the pharmaceutical company named Valeri Silvestri.

"Ms. Capone, lie down on the table. We'll begin the injection."

I complied, stretching out on the narrow table. My arm was still dotted with needle marks from earlier blood draws.

Valeri pulled out a syringe filled with a deep blue liquid. The moment the needle pierced my skin, an icy pain spread along my veins.

"This is the final-stage trial drug. You may feel some discomfort. Bear with it."

Discomfort? It was a sheer inferno.

Less than half an hour after the drug entered my system, my stomach began to churn violently. The pain doubled me over on the table, forcing dry heaves from my throat.

Soon, my skin started to burn, as if thousands of ants were gnawing through my flesh. I clawed at my arms in a frenzy until blood streaked beneath my nails.

Valeri stood nearby, expressionless, jotting down notes as if I were nothing more than a lab rat. "Reaction is normal. Continue observation."

And the torture only escalated over the next few days.

I burned with relentless fevers. My consciousness drifted in and out. Blood appeared in my vomit. The whip wounds on my back, aggravated by fever and convulsions, festered and rotted.

I screamed for help, and I begged Valeri to stop.

He only watched with clinical detachment, continuing the injections on schedule even when I slipped into unconsciousness.

They didn't care if I lived or died. They just wanted data.

And somewhere far away, Matteo, my parents, and Lydia were probably sitting comfortably at home, celebrating, convinced I would soon finish this "mission" for her.

On the seventh morning, just as dawn barely touched the sky, I felt my breath growing faint, my heart gripped by an invisible hand, every beat tearing through my chest.

Darkness crept in at the edges of my vision. Valeri's data entries grew distant, then disappeared entirely into silence.

My body grew cold. My consciousness sank into an endless black, never to awaken again.

Valeri didn't notice anything was wrong until midday. He reached out to check my breathing, then glanced at the life monitor beside me and saw a flat line stretched across the screen.

He paused for a moment, then took out his phone and called Matteo.

"Don Ricci, Ms. Capone isn't breathing."

There was a long silence before Matteo's irritated voice came through. "Valeri, are you kidding me? Is she pulling another stunt to skip the trial?"

"I'm not joking!" Valeri's voice cracked with panic. "Her vitals are gone. You need to see this."

Even then, Matteo didn't believe him. It took him two hours to finally arrive at the testing center.

He pushed open the door and stopped dead in his tracks. The smirk of derision vanished in an instant.

I lay still on the exam table, my blood-soaked gown clinging to me, my face ashen, arms and back scarred and blistered. Not a flicker of life remained.

Matteo's pupils widened, disbelief etched on his face. "Camilla?" he whispered.

But there was no answer.

He stepped forward in a hurry and touched my cheek with trembling hands.

"No… No, no…" he murmured. Then he grabbed me, dragging my limp body into his arms. "Camilla! Wake up! I command you to wake!"

But I didn't move.

Valeri said in a low voice, "She's been dead for hours. The drug triggered multiple organ failure. There was nothing—"

"Shut up!" Matteo bellowed, eyes burning.

"What did you inject her with? I told you the trials weren't supposed to be lethal! What did you do to her?"

Valeri stumbled back, terrified. "The dosage… was adjusted per Ms. Lydia's request. She demanded a higher dose to ensure the data were accurate, regardless of the cost."