Two days later, in the evening, I returned home, hauling a pile of art supplies and a newly bought suitcase.

When I opened the door, a clear, unfamiliar female laugh rang out. A woman was standing next to Vittore.

Vittore came over and took the heavy things from my hands. "You're back. Perfect timing. Let me introduce the two of you."

Vittore rested a hand on my shoulder as he introduced, "This is Francesca Delle."

Then he turned to me. "Francesca, this is Chiara Romano. I mentioned her before. Her place isn't the safest right now, so she'll be staying here for a few days."

"Oh, alright. Has the staff prepared the guest room?"

"The guest room faces north, so it's a bit chilly," Vittore said thoughtfully. "Chiara isn't in the best health. She needs sunlight, so—"

"Then I'll move to the guest room," I interrupted. "The master bedroom faces the sun. Ms. Romano can rest there."

Since I had very few things, it didn't take me long to pack them.

In the end, the only thing left in the room was that massive photograph of Vittore and me.

All of a sudden, Chiara's voice came from behind me. "Need some help, Francesca?"

I shoved the last few books into a box. "No, I'm almost done."

She walked in and stopped in front of our engagement picture. "This is a nice photo. Still… engagement photos are really only meaningful if you're actually marrying the person, don't you think?"

I stood and met her gaze. "Ms. Romano, what exactly are you trying to say?"

She shrugged. "Nothing."

But as she turned, her arm "accidentally" knocked over a tall decorative vase beside her, which landed squarely on the picture.

The enormous frame came off the wall, and glass shattered everywhere.

Gasping, Chiara covered her mouth. "Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to do that. Why was that vase so unstable…"

I stood there, coldly watching her act. Vittore appeared at the doorway. Upon seeing the mess, he frowned and asked, "What happened?"

Chiara immediately looked up, her eyes red, her voice trembling. "Vittore, I'm so sorry… I was just helping Francesca check for anything she might have left behind, but I accidentally knocked over the vase and ruined your photo… Francesca must be so mad…"

She glanced at me timidly as she spoke. I knew she hoped that I would lose my temper at her so she could play the victim.

As for Vittore, he definitely wanted the opposite, hoping that I would let it slide.

I met his eyes calmly, my voice flat. "Accidents happen. Could you let me through? I need to move my stuff out."

Vittore froze. Clearly, he hadn't expected such a reaction from me.

He glanced at the broken frame on the floor, then at my expressionless face. He then said to Chiara, "It's fine. It's just a photo. Have the maids clean this up. Be careful not to cut yourself."

I couldn't help letting out a cold laugh.

True. It really was just a photo. Eventually, a wedding photo of the two of them would take up that space, and that had nothing to do with me.

…

A few days later, Chiara was going to a reunion organized by some of her old school friends.

Not only did she bring Vittore, but she also brought me.

I watched Chiara loop her arm through Vittore's as they made their way through the crowd.

She went from friend to friend, introducing Vittore in an intimate manner. "This is my husband, Vittore Ferri."

Every time she said the word husband, it felt like a tiny needle was stabbing my heart.

After a while, Vittore came over to my side and whispered, "She said her ex is here. She didn't want to look bad in front of him, so she just made it up."

I looked away as Chiara led Vittore away.

A group of obviously tipsy young people swayed past me, their conversation drifting over. "That's Chiara's husband? The Ferri famiglia heir? He's handsome."

"I heard they got married recently. How lovey-dovey of them."

"Hey, who's the woman over there staring at Mr. Ferri?"

"No idea. Chiara said she insisted on coming along or something. She's not even joining in the fun, and she looks gloomy. What a mood killer."

"Jeez, some people shouldn't even be here…"

Chiara's friends weren't loud, but their voices were clear enough for both me and Chiara, who had been watching me the whole time, to hear every single word.

Vittore's expression darkened.

As Chiara was sticking close to him, he pushed her aside before striding over to me and holding my hand. "Don't listen to their nonsense. They're just a bunch of youngsters who don't know any better. You know I love you…"

I gently pulled my hand back, looked up at him, and gave a very faint smile. "I don't mind."

Vittore's hand froze in midair.

I picked up my coat. "You should stay with Ms. Romano. She's the star tonight. I'll just hail a cab home."

After I spoke, I ignored the complicated expression that flashed across his face. I walked straight through the crowd and left that suffocating place.

…

I had just reached the middle of the alley in front of my apartment when hurried footsteps suddenly sounded behind me. From behind, a muscular arm grabbed me by the neck, and another hand clamped over my mouth.

I was then violently dragged into a shadowy corner piled with junk.

"Listen up, you bitch!" the man snarled, breathing hard as he pressed the blade of a knife against my throat. "I know you live with that wretched Chiara Romano! Tell her to cough up my money! She owes me five million dollars, and I want every last cent back!"

Chiara? Money?

His breathing was ragged, his emotions clearly unstable. I knew that resisting outright would only get me killed.

"O-Okay… Okay," I managed. "I'll make a… video call right now… You can talk to her directly… It'll be better that way…"

"Try anything funny, and I'll kill you on the spot!"

My hands shook as I pulled out my phone. Chiara wasn't in my contact list, but Vittore was.

Soon, the screen lit up, and Vittore appeared. I could see familiar bookshelves behind him. He was in his study. "Francesca?"

A second later, Chiara leaned into the frame. She was wearing a revealing nightgown, her hair slightly damp from having just showered, and she was pressing herself right up against Vittore.

I shouted with everything I had, "Vittore! I'm being held hostage! The guy is looking for Chiara! He says Chiara cheated him out of his money!"

I shifted the camera, doing my best to capture the knife pressed to my neck and the man holding it.

The man snarled into the phone as the blade dug into my throat, "Chiara Romano! You bitch! Did you really think I couldn't find you just because you're with the Ferri famiglia?"

Vittore's gaze snapped to Chiara, his face turning icy. He stood up to grab his coat.

But in the next second, Chiara let out an exaggerated gasp. "What? Vitorre, what… what is the meaning of this? Francesca, even if you're angry with me, you can't do something like this just to get Vittore's attention! This is dangerous, and honestly… way too childish!"

Vittore stopped what he was doing. He stared at the screen, the worry and shock on his face slowly replaced by a cold, cutting suspicion.

Vittore's voice dropped, sharp with suppressed fury. "Francesca, where are you? What is this about? Do you have any idea what time it is? Is pulling something like this supposed to be funny?"

Tears welled up in my eyes from panic as I felt the knife draw closer, the pain impossible to ignore. "I'm not pulling anything, Vittore! This is real! Listen to me—"

"That's enough!" Vittore cut me off harshly.

He had clearly run out of patience, the disappointment in his eyes undisguised. "I don't have time for this childish stunt! I already told you I'm only taking care of Chiara temporarily. If you're going to throw a tantrum, at least pick a decent way! Chiara's right. I'm beyond disappointed in you!"

"Vittore, no!"

Chiara said lightly, "The wine's ready. It's perfect now. Let's go have a drink, Vittore. I never thought Francesca would be this willful…"

With that, the call ended just like that.

The screen went dark, reflecting my pale, despairing face.

Behind me, a rough, chilling laugh sounded. "It looks like your life's worth nothing to them, pretty lady."

The last thing I saw was the glint of the knife as he swung it toward me. There were only four days left… I might not… make it that long…

The smell of disinfectant and the monotone ticking of machines woke me. I opened my eyes to find my neck wrapped in thick gauze.

The nurse told me that a passerby had saved me. The blade had barely missed my carotid artery by only a fraction of an inch, and I had been unconscious for two days from blood loss.

There was no one else in my room. Clinging to the last shred of hope, I asked softly, "Has Vittore Ferri been here?"

The nurse's gaze softened with sympathy. "The Ferri family's butler took care of your medical bills. As for Mr. Ferri… he hasn't been by."

I should have expected it. With Chiara constantly causing drama, there was no way Vittore would come.

Vittore… Whatever his reasons, I would no longer forgive him. I reached for my phone and noticed a message from my friend.

"Your flight's booked! It's tomorrow at 3:00 pm, a direct flight from Kegrun Airport to Gavelle Airport. The flight number is AF009. You can pack light since Gavelle has everything! I'll be waiting for you in Gavelle!"

At 3:00 pm tomorrow afternoon… The timing was just right for me.

I replied, "Got it. I'll be there."

…

From 9:00 am the next morning, Vittore kept calling non-stop. I only answered him once I was on the plane.

"Hello?"

"Where are you?" Vittore's voice sounded both anxious and angry.

I could faintly hear sobbing in the background, along with, "Ms. Delle was already gone when I did my rounds. I wasn't even on duty last night…"

I said calmly, "Don't trouble the nurse. She's got nothing to do with my actions."

"Then who does? Chiara? I already told you—"

I cut him off with a scoff. "Oh? So you knew? I thought you didn't."

Vittore faltered. "Francesca, she won't be staying at our house for long. I told you, she'll be gone once my father is finished with—"

"And then what? So a woman who's just temporarily staying at my house can sleep in the master bedroom, openly hold your arm at a gathering, sip wine with you while I'm being taken against my will, and also keep you from coming to see me while I'm unconscious?

"Vittore, she has only lived with us for a few days, and our relationship is already in tatters. I almost died… Have you not even considered why this is happening?"

"I can't believe you're being so petty, Francesca. You weren't like this before—"

"And you weren't like this either!"

I felt like I was about to break down. Perhaps realizing I was genuinely angry, Vittore fell silent for a moment.

Then, in a gentler tone, he said, "You never mentioned any of the things that had been bothering you before. I thought you didn't mind. I know you're upset now. I apologize. Where are you right now? I'll come get you."

"There's no need for that," I said coldly. "I'm never going back."

"Are you joking?" Vittore finally lost his temper. "You're my wife! Where can you go if not home?"

"Wife?"

I burst into laughter, loud enough for the other passengers to stare, but it didn't bother me.

Wiping the tears from laughing too hard, I looked out the plane window at the ground staff below and smiled. "Vittore, I would've totally forgotten if you hadn't reminded me."

"What?"

"Ten days ago, I found two almost identical documents in your safe. One had our names. The other had your name and Chiara's."

"Francesca…"

"There's something I should have said to you a long time ago, Vittore," I said, smiling. "Congratulations to you and Chiara on your marriage."

Then I hung up, letting the plane carry me away from this city.