He Ruined Me, Then Called It Love

On the night of my father’s funeral, while I kept vigil beside his urn, they came for me.

A crew of men stormed the funeral hall, shattering the silence owed to the dead. They desecrated my father's ashes and, with the code that once protected our name gone to ruin, forced me to cooperate with three strangers in filming an eight-hour blackmail film.

By the next day, the footage had been burned onto discs and passed through every social club, every back room, every corner of the territory.

My betrothed broke our alliance pact without a moment's hesitation.

The all-girls school that once demanded my daily presence, one of the Family's proud legitimate fronts, never sent for me again.

Under the weight of the disgrace and the grief, my frail mother passed away, clutching what little remained of my father's ashes.

In the depths of it, Salvatore Moretti, Don of the Moretti Family and my betrayer's uncle, knelt before me and offered his hand.

It felt like a drifting boat finally finding harbor.

I said yes.

Six months into the marriage, I went into the city to collect a drunken Salvatore from a private room at one of his establishments. As I neared the door, I heard voices. His, and another man's.

"Salvatore, weren't you too ruthless back then? A marriage broken and a place taken, that's all it took? Bianca's people are well set. Why grind Adriana into nothing? Her father clawed for that standing with everything he had. Look at her now. Broken. Hollow."

"I had no choice," Salvatore said, his voice cold as a coffin lid. "If her honor wasn't destroyed, the school would never turn her away. Marco would never call off the union. I can't shield Bianca forever. All I could do was clear the obstacles from the path."

——

"I had my soldiers pull those discs from every corner of the territory. But it's been months. You see how the men look at Adriana now? Like she's something to be devoured."

"Stop collecting them."

There was a beat of silence. Then a hoarse cry tore out, thick with grief.

"Salvatore, are you even a man?! Have you watched it?! My wife, put through eight hours of three animals. In the end, blood ran from her eyes. Was it worth it, for a woman like Bianca?"

"Enough!" Salvatore snapped. "I know she's hurting. Just wait. Once Bianca gives the Moretti name its child and things settle, this passes. Words cut shallower than wounds. I'll say no more. Adriana said she was coming for me. If she hears this—"

His voice, eerie and soulless, chilled me to the bone. I pressed a hand over my mouth, my heart pounding, and stumbled back from the door. Beneath my glove, my thumb turned my mother's thin gold band around and around, counting what this had cost me.

But outside the hotel, it got worse.

A knot of drunken men recognized me.

"Hey, isn't this the girl from the disc? Vincenzo's daughter? Always so proper. Who'd have guessed she was so wild in private?"

One of them caught me by the waist, his hand already dragging at my coat.

"C'mon, cara, have some fun with the boys. Name your price."

I struggled, but I was no match for a mob.

My coat tore. Laughter rang around me, vile and mocking.

The horror I thought I had left behind came rushing back.

And then—

"You dare put your hands on my woman? You want to die tonight?"

Salvatore's voice cut through the chaos like a blade.

His soldiers surged past him, driving the drunkards to the ground, their screams echoing down the empty street until the whole block knew whose woman she was.

I curled into the corner, shaking.

He had saved me again.

But this time, I felt no gratitude.

Only fear.