While I try on various wedding rings, my fiance, Don Demetrio Farese, who has tagged along, suddenly snatches the ring from my fingertip.

"You already lost a finger, Lucia. The ring will look ugly on you. Carlotta, on the other hand, looks beautiful with a ring on her finger."

Then, Demetrio fishes out a photo featuring him sinking down on one knee while sliding a ring onto Carlotta Rini's finger.

My chest tightens. "What are you trying to say?"

"Let Carlotta wear the wedding ring. You've already lost a finger anyway—you don’t need it."

Pain slowly spreads from my chest to the rest of my body. For a moment, I almost lose my balance.

The truth is, Demetrio's mortal enemy is the one who severed my finger by shooting at it. Back then, I only got shot because I had shielded Demetrio from the bullet.

"You were with Carlotta during our engagement ceremony, weren't you?" I demanded while staring at Demetrio Farese.

He nodded, his expression showing no guilt. If anything, there was a look of relief on it.

"When I put the ring on your finger, I was just thinking how ugly your hands were. They didn't deserve a ring like that. Carlotta asked me to help her pick out a manicure style, so I just made up some excuse and left."

My heart skipped a beat, like someone had gripped it hard. But memories flooded back at that very moment.

On the day of the engagement, halfway through the ceremony, Demetrio's phone buzzed. As he looked at it, his face turned pale.

Then, he looked at me with just the right amount of guilt in his eyes and said, "There's a serious issue with the west trade route. I need to handle it personally."

I should've known something was off. That route had been a legitimate business for years. There was no way it would go wrong.

Back then, I still tried to cover for him with a smile, saying, "Family comes first."

I was left alone to face Demetrio's parents, along with the Dons and Madres of the mafia families who were present.

I walked around the crowd with a glass of wine in my hand. But my mind was wandering with worry, wondering if Demetrio would be in danger.

As the engagement ceremony was nearing its end, everyone was invited on stage for a group photo. I stood at the front, but Demetrio's spot beside me remained empty.

His mother, Ella Toriello, looked clearly displeased.

"He's not even here for the engagement photo? What will people think?" Ella muttered, about to dial Demetrio's number.

A stinging pain flared across my face. I could barely keep my head up. All I could do was explain quietly, "There's a family emergency. I told him to leave first."

Ella froze for a moment, and then her gaze softened with pity.

The guests looked at me like I was a fool trying to kid myself. But I chose to trust Demetrio and pushed through the engagement ceremony.

I accepted his absence and turned a blind eye to the strong, woodsy fragrance of the incense Carlotta Rini liked that clung to him every time he came home late.

I was deluding myself to keep our love alive.

Then, Demetrio casually shattered the last bit of illusion. "Your fingers are missing one, and they're too rough. Only hands with clean lines and nice knuckles deserve to be held by me. You can forget about me giving up other women for you."

His gaze lingered on my hand for a moment before he looked away with disgust. "Forget about the ring exchange at the wedding. If you're not happy with that, just call off the whole thing."

As soon as he finished speaking, his phone buzzed again.

Carlotta had sent a voice message. Without hesitation, Demetrio played it in front of me. "Demetrio, my new hand cream and body lotion just arrived. Come try them out for me."

He took the ring from my hand and said flatly, "Think it through. I'm going to be with Carlotta."

With that, he grabbed his blazer and walked away without a single glance back.

The store fell silent for a moment.

The saleswoman glanced at me sympathetically and asked softly, "Ms. Anzelmo, would you like to see any more rings?"

I stood there, suddenly lost in thought.

Demetrio hadn't always been this cold, ruthless Don.

The year his father died, the Farese family was torn apart by internal power struggles. During that time, he barely slept, spending days and nights in negotiations, purges, and counter-strikes. The look in his eyes grew so cold he hardly seemed human.

But with me, he was still gentle and would whisper to me not to be afraid.

When his uncle, Aladino Farese, abducted me after his failed power grab, it was the first time I saw Demetrio lose control. Demetrio, who had always been so ruthless and cold, actually had fear flickering in his eyes.

"I can give you the entire Farese family," he rasped. "Just don't hurt Lucia."

But Aladino sneered and aimed the gun directly at him.

In that split second, my mind went blank. Before the gunshot could even ring out, I threw myself in front of Demetrio.

Demetrio was unharmed, but I lost a finger.

The pain spread like wildfire through my body, but I couldn't help but smile. I thought that if I could protect Demetrio, then maybe I wasn't just a burden to him.

But Demetrio held me tightly, and his eyes were filled with unguarded guilt and heartbreak. "Lucia, why are you so stupid…"

I lost all interest in picking out a wedding ring, so I bought a ticket to Mirisca and spent a few days there.

When I returned, a party was taking place.

The host had invited the Dons and Madres from various mafia families.

I got dressed up and went to the event, but I never expected to see Carlotta, in a glamorous gown, affectionately linked arm-in-arm with Demetrio.

I instantly recognized the dress she was wearing. It was the wedding dress Demetrio had custom-made for me three years ago.

At that time, I had casually mentioned how beautiful the dress looked while flipping through a bridal magazine. He had remembered it.

Demetrio went out of his way to find the designer and was rejected over and over again for years. After three years, the designer finally agreed to make it for him.

But now, the wedding dress that was supposed to be mine was on Carlotta.

She and Demetrio stood side by side, looking like the perfect couple. Meanwhile, I felt like an outsider who had stumbled in by mistake.

A tight pain gripped my chest, sharp and suffocating.

Noticing me, Carlotta lifted the hem of her dress. Her voice dripped with provocation as she asked, "Demetrio, so this is your wife?"

Her gaze then slowly drifted to my hand. "Why is one of her fingers missing?"

She smiled lightly, as if suddenly understanding something. "No wonder you always avoided bringing her to events and even let me wear her wedding dress."

The air in the room froze.

Demetrio's expression darkened, and his voice dropped. "Carlotta, stop it."

Everyone's eyes fell on my hand. Waves of contempt, curiosity, and surprise washed over me, stripping me bare.

In the next instant, I raised my hand and slapped Carlotta across the face.

The sharp sound silenced the entire room. "I'm the Madre here. You're not in a position to speak."

Carlotta clutched her quickly swelling cheek, tears welling up in her eyes. "Mi scuso, Lucia. I was just speaking my mind. I didn't realize you'd be so petty over such a small thing."

Frowning, Demetrio instinctively stepped in front of her to shield her. His eyes were full of pain.

"Enough." He grabbed my arm and dragged me away. His voice was devoid of any warmth as he said, "Stop making a scene."

In the underground parking lot, I yanked my arm away from him and asked in a trembling voice, "Why did you let her wear my wedding dress? She humiliated me in front of everyone, and you just let it happen?"

Demetrio paused for a moment. "It's just a dress. Carlotta didn't have anything appropriate to wear to the event. Besides, she said nothing wrong."

My heart sank.

"The Madre represents the face of the family," he said flatly, as though stating an irrefutable fact. "With you missing a finger, what will people think of us?"

My heart kept sinking.

"Carlotta is beautiful and graceful," he added. "It's normal for me to bring her to events."

But Demetrio had forgotten.

When his rival had first spread the news about me losing a finger, the entire city mocked me. It was him who personally went out and dealt with every single person who dared to make fun of me.

Back then, he had held my hand and said affectionately, "Anyone who dares to belittle you will pay the price."

His words still echoed in my ears, but now, Demetrio had already taken off his blazer and naturally draped it over Carlotta's shoulders.

I was left alone.

Demetrio was unhappy with me slapping Carlotta at the party. When we got home, the butler, Celso Spinosa, locked me in the family's confinement room.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Anzelmo. This is Don Farese's order. We're just following instructions."

The confinement room was cold and cramped, with no windows or light.

Within minutes, I started shaking. I banged on the door and yelled, "Where's Demetrio? I need to talk to him!"

After a long silence, Celso's voice came through, but it was tinged with hesitation. "Don Farese is with Ms. Rini. He said… you're not to disturb them."

I spent three long, endless days in that windowless confinement room. By the time I was let out, my legs were so weak I could barely stand, as though half of my soul had been drained away.

When I got my phone, notifications flooded in.

Carlotta had performed "Dream Wedding" at a concert, and Demetrio was sitting in the front row, clapping for her.

That song was the one I had picked for our wedding.

I watched the video over and over again like I was torturing myself.

From the initial heartbreak to the point where I no longer felt the pain, I learned then that people really could become numb after enough hurt.

I suddenly realized that whether Demetrio married me or not didn't matter anymore. Who he chose, who he protected, and who he loved had nothing to do with me anymore.

I decided to let him be with Carlotta.

I packed my things bit by bit from the house I once called home. Clothes, jewelry, old photos, and the memories I had carefully kept all went into a suitcase.

As I stood at the door, holding the suitcase, I didn't even look back.

…

When I found Demetrio at the hospital, I didn't even have the chance to speak about breaking off the engagement.

"It was you, wasn't it?" Demetrio demanded.

His face was dark, and he grabbed my neck with such force that it felt like he was trying to choke the life out of me.

"Are you jealous that Carlotta's physically perfect, so you had someone hurt her?"

That was when I learned that something had gone wrong within the Farese family. Someone had targeted Carlotta.

Despite eight bodyguards and Demetrio himself protecting her, Carlotta's right hand had still been mangled beyond recognition.

Forced to tilt my head back, I stared at the face that had countless times whispered sweet promises to protect me forever.

Suddenly, I found it so absurd I almost wanted to laugh.

Apparently, in Demetrio's mind, I was so terrible that I could do something like that.

"It wasn't me." I forced those three words out.

Demetrio sneered, as if he didn't believe me at all. "Who else could it be if not you?"

His gaze landed on my hand, which had a missing thumb.

It was like he had finally found an outlet for his anger. His face darkened, and he grabbed my wrist with such force it bordered on cruelty.

He pressed down hard on the spot where my thumb used to be. That was the old wound from when I took the bullet for him.

"Ah!"

The pain exploded, unexpected and sharp. I bent over, nearly unable to stand.

It felt like my bones were being crushed and the old injury was being rubbed raw, sending waves of pain through me.

"Does it hurt?" Demetrio looked down at me, his voice chillingly calm. "Carlotta's pain right now is a hundred times worse than yours."

I looked up at him. My eyes were red, but I was unable to shed a single tear.

"She lost an entire hand," he said.

I finally struggled to pull my hand back. My arm was shaking violently. The old wound tore open, and blood seeped through my fingers.

It dripped on the floor, little by little.

Demetrio straightened his cuffs, his voice returning to its usual cold restraint. "Don't let me find out you have any ill intentions again."

He carefully took Carlotta's damaged hand with one knee on the ground. His movements were almost reverent, and his voice was low but firm. "Carlotta, will you marry me?"

Carlotta's eyes filled with tears. "But my hand…"

Demetrio looked up at her, his gaze tender beyond belief. "I'm marrying you because of who you are. It won't change because of anything else."

When he said those words, my world suddenly went silent because I had heard them before—those exact same words.

Years ago, when I lost a finger, I lay in a hospital bed, and my hand was tightly wrapped in bandages.

Demetrio had sat by my side, holding my hand with red-rimmed eyes. He said, "Lucia, once I've handled everything, I'll marry you. No matter what happens to you, I'll still want you."

Back then, I was shaking with pain, but I felt like the luckiest person in the world.

And now, he was in the same posture, using the same tone, and making the same promise. But this time, I wasn't the one he was making it to.

Demetrio took out a ring from his blazer pocket.

The next moment, he carefully slid that ring onto Carlotta's unscarred ring finger right in front of me. "I will marry you, Carlotta."

The room felt deafeningly still.

I looked down at my hand. The missing finger felt so empty.