The sting of Lorenzo’s handprint burned on my cheek.

He stood over me, his chest heaving, the rage in his eyes still burning.

"Isabella, this isn't over."

He spun on his heel and left.

The door slammed shut, leaving me alone in the silence.

I touched my cheek. My fingertips came away wet.

Blood.

Lorenzo's ring had cut my skin.

I closed my eyes and laughed, a bitter, silent laugh.

The man who once swore to protect me with his life had just struck me himself.

The next morning, I was woken by a nurse’s gasp.

"Oh my god, Mrs. Romano, have you seen the news?"

I took the remote and turned on the TV.

The scandal about Antonio Viti was gone.

In its place was a picture of me.

A small, frail child, standing in a pool of blood.

The crime scene from when I was six years old, when I watched my mother die.

A news anchor read in a cold, detached voice:

"Sources close to the family say Isabella Romano suffered from severe mental illness after witnessing a violent event in her childhood..."

"Psychologists believe this trauma could lead to retaliatory behavior..."

"Reports are now claiming that, in a jealous rage, she spread false information to ruin a rival for her husband Lorenzo Romano's affections..."

My hands started to shake.

My deepest trauma, splashed across the screen for the world's entertainment. A slideshow of my personal hell.

The comments online were even worse:

"They should lock that crazy bitch up in an asylum for life!"

"How did Lorenzo Romano end up with a monster like her?"

"She killed her own father, now she's trying to destroy Cassandra. She's pure evil!"

"Poor Miss Viti, so kind and she's being targeted by this psycho!"

The bloody images, the vicious words, the childhood nightmares…

It all came rushing back.

My breathing became shallow, my chest felt like it was being crushed by a stone.

My PTSD was hitting me like a freight train.

I gasped for air, but it felt like all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room.

"Help… help me…"

A nurse rushed in and gave me a sedative.

As my consciousness faded, I heard familiar footsteps.

Lorenzo.

"How is she?" he asked the nurse.

"Mr. Romano, the online news triggered an acute stress reaction…"

"I know," Lorenzo's voice was cold. "The stories have been pulled. It won't happen again."

He walked to my bed and looked down at me.

“Isabella,” he warned, his voice dangerously low. “There won’t be a next time.”

That was it.

No comfort. No apology.

Just a cold, hard warning.

Then he left.

To be with his Cassandra.

In the days that followed, Lorenzo and Cassandra were everywhere.

Fancy restaurants, private parties, charity galas.

The press snapped photos of them talking intimately, of Lorenzo opening her car door.

The public was firmly on their side:

"Lorenzo and Cassandra are a perfect match!"

"A union of two great families. It's good for business!"

"He needs to divorce her already. That psycho doesn't deserve the Romano name!"

"Miss Viti is so kind. She'll be the one to heal Lorenzo's heart!"

I lay in my hospital bed, reading the news, my heart dead.

That night, I put in the micro-earpiece Sofia had given me.

The bug in Lorenzo's study came to life.

"Lorenzo…" It was Cassandra's sweet, cloying voice. "I have a favor to ask."

"What is it?" Lorenzo's voice sounded tired.

"Your tattoo… the one on your arm…"

My heart skipped a beat.

Lorenzo had an iris tattooed on his forearm. My favorite flower. A symbol of our love.

"The iris?" Lorenzo asked.

“Yes,” Cassandra’s voice was a venomous sugar. “Every time I see it, it’s a reminder… of her. Can’t you just… cover it up? For me?”

A long silence.

I held my breath, waiting.

"To what?" he finally asked.

"My initial," Cassandra's voice filled with excitement. "Just a 'C.' It's simple."

Another silence.

"Is this it?" Lorenzo asked. "Your last wish?"

"Yes," Cassandra cooed. "The very last one. After this, we can finally…"

"Fine," Lorenzo cut her off. "I'll go to the tattoo shop tomorrow."

I heard Cassandra's happy laugh through the earpiece.

I turned off the recording, my face a mask, and saved the audio file.

The iris. The symbol of our love. Erased.

Replaced by another woman's initial.

The next day, I called Sofia.

"Give me Nonna's address."

"Isabella, are you sure you want to go now? Your body…"

"The address," I said. My voice was steel.

Sofia sighed. "I'm sending it to you now. I'll send the contact for your new identity, too."

"Thank you."

"Take care of yourself, sister."

After I hung up, I packed a small bag.

When the nurse tried to stop me from leaving, I just looked at her. "Are you going to try and stop me?"

My stare was enough. She stepped aside.

I stopped at a flower shop and bought a bouquet of white roses, Nonna's favorite.

Three years. I was finally going to see her.

The taxi stopped in front of the care facility.

It was an expensive, private place. Beautiful grounds, modern facilities.

Lorenzo hadn't skimped on Nonna's care.

I held the flowers and walked toward her room.

Room 308.

I took a deep breath and reached for the door.

I stood outside room 308, my hand clutching the white roses.

Three years. I was finally here.

I reached for the doorknob, but stopped when I heard a voice from inside.

"...so you see, old woman, what kind of person your precious granddaughter really is."

It was Cassandra.

What was she doing here?

My hand froze in the air. I listened through the crack in the door.

"She killed her own father," Cassandra's voice was dripping with malicious glee. "Then she played the innocent victim and fooled everyone."

"No… that's not… " a frail voice trembled in protest.

Nonna.

My heart hammered against my ribs.

"Oh? It's not?" Cassandra laughed. "Then why did she do three years in prison? Why did Lorenzo himself testify against her?"

"Isabella's not… she wouldn't…" Nonna's voice was getting weaker.

"She wouldn't?" Cassandra's laugh was even more piercing. "You're so naive, old woman. Your 'good' granddaughter is trying to kill me now, too."

I heard the heart monitor begin to beep erratically.

Beep-beep-beep—

Nonna's heart was failing.

"See? The truth is the truth," Cassandra said, without a shred of pity. "Your granddaughter is a born killer, just like her father. An eye for an eye. It's fate!"

Beep-beep-beep-beep-beep—

The alarm on the monitor grew faster, more desperate.

I couldn't take it anymore.

BAM—

I threw my shoulder into the door, slamming it open.

"Nonna!" I screamed, rushing to the bed.

The old woman lying there was just skin and bones, her face a deathly white.

Was this really the warm, kind Nonna I remembered?

"Isabella…" she whispered, reaching out a weak hand. "My child…"

I grabbed her cold hand, tears instantly streaming down my face.

"Nonna, I'm back. I'm finally back…"

Cassandra jumped at my sudden entrance, stumbling backward.

"Ah—!"

She stepped on a piece of broken glass on the floor, cutting her ankle.

A drop of blood welled up. She immediately started to panic.

"Blood… there's blood… Lorenzo! Lorenzo, help me!"

Her screams tore through the quiet facility.

"Doctor! Get a doctor!" I yelled into the hallway. "My grandmother is having a heart attack!"

The beeping of the monitor grew sharper, more frantic.

Nonna's breathing was shallow, her fingers like ice.

"Isabella…" she said, her voice strained. "I've… been waiting for you…"

"Nonna, hold on, the doctor's coming…"

Just then, Lorenzo burst into the room.

He saw the drop of blood on the floor, he saw the hysterical Cassandra, and his face turned to thunder.

"Isabella!" he snarled. "What the hell did you do to her?"

What was I doing?

I couldn't believe my ears.

"Lorenzo, Nonna's having a heart attack, call a doctor—"

"Cassandra's hurt!" he cut me off, rushing to where she was huddled in the corner. "Baby, are you okay?"

Baby?

I watched, frozen, as he knelt down to gently inspect the tiny cut on Cassandra's ankle.

"It hurts… it hurts so much…" Cassandra sobbed, a perfect picture of distress. "Lorenzo, I was so scared…"

"I'm here now. Don't be scared." Lorenzo held her, then barked at the doctor who had just arrived. "Come look at Miss Viti's cut! Now!"

"No!" I blocked the doctor's path. "My grandmother is dying!"

Lorenzo’s eyes were black with fury. "Enough. Cassandra is hurt."

"Lorenzo, please…" I fell to my knees, grabbing his pants leg. "Nonna is dying. Please, just let the doctor save her first…"

Lorenzo coldly shook me off. "If she has the strength to hurt Cassandra, then it can't be that serious."

He scooped Cassandra up into his arms. "Treat Miss Viti's wound," he ordered the doctor. "Everything else can wait."

"Mr. Romano," the doctor said, looking torn. "But the old woman's condition…"

"That's an order!" Lorenzo’s eyes flashed with menace.

The doctor gave me a helpless look, then followed Lorenzo out of the room.

And just like that, they were gone.

Leaving me alone with my dying grandmother.

Beep… beep… beep…

The monitor's alarm was slowing down.

"Nonna, hold on…" I squeezed her hand. "I'll find another doctor…"

"Isabella…" her voice was as faint as a feather. "Don't… hate…"

"What?" I leaned in close, my ear to her lips.

"Don't let… the hate… eat you…"

BEEEEEEEEEEEEP—

The monitor let out one long, final tone.

Then, silence.

Nonna's hand slipped from mine.

She was gone.

The only family I had in the world. Gone.

And in her final moments, Lorenzo chose to treat a scratch on Cassandra's ankle that didn't even need a band-aid.

I knelt by her bed, silent tears streaming down my face.

Five days later.

Lorenzo walked in holding a document.

I was sitting on the living room sofa, numbly watching TV.

Nonna's funeral was over. Lorenzo hadn't even shown up.

He said he had to take care of the "injured" Cassandra.

"Isabella," Lorenzo said, placing the papers on the coffee table. "Sign it."

I looked down.

Divorce Agreement.

"This is Cassandra's last wish," Lorenzo said, his voice flat. "She wants a grand wedding. To solidify the alliance between the Romano and Viti families."

An alliance?

He was going to marry my father's killer for an alliance?

I picked up the pen. The ink flowed, my signature clean and sharp. No hesitation. No regrets.

He stared, clearly thrown by my lack of a fight.

"Bella, you…"

"Is there anything else?" I asked without looking up.

Lorenzo opened his mouth, but said nothing.

He picked up the signed papers and turned to leave.

At the door, he stopped.

"Isabella, I…"

"Get out," I said. My voice was quiet, but it was final.

After Lorenzo left, I walked into the bedroom.

The walls were covered in photos of us.

Every picture, a memory of a love that was now dead.

I took them down, one by one. And I tore each one to pieces. The fragments fluttered to the floor, like the shattered pieces of my heart.

Finally, I grabbed my suitcase and walked out of that home for the last time.

Lorenzo. Cassandra. You gave me three years of hell.

Now, it's my turn.

I'm going to give you a wedding gift you will never, ever forget.