I once thought that when Julian Whitaker took a bullet for me, it was proof of his undying love.

The bullet struck him in the head. He survived, but with the mind of a child.

I aborted our six-month-old baby, just so I could test a new drug on myself for him.

When the new drug failed, I knelt day and night in church, praying to God for his recovery.

Everyone in the Lombardi family said our matching tattoos were a testament to true love.

But that intense love was shattered by a woman with a swollen belly.

His mistress, Sophia Vance, found me. Her gaze was a blatant provocation.

“You don't actually believe Julian became a simpleton to save you, do you? He was just tired of you. He wanted a quiet life with me.”

“I heard you damaged your body testing that drug and can't have children anymore. Don't worry, I'll have them for you.”

“Gianna, you're not worthy of the title Mrs. Lombardi.”

She was beautiful, with an ignorant sort of courage.

I didn't waste my breath. I had her tied up, carved the words into her skin, and filmed her screams to send to Julian.

He burst in with bloodshot eyes, just as I finished carving the last word.

I smiled, the cold tip of the blade pressed against Sophia's neck.

“Sign the papers. Unless you want two corpses on your hands.”

————————

1

Julian Whitaker burst in, followed by his Soldati.

I didn't recognize them, but the murderous aura was all too familiar.

It seemed Julian was truly furious tonight.

“Gianna, let her go! She's innocent!”

He finally dropped the act.

I looked up at that face—so familiar yet so strange—and laughed until tears streamed down my cheeks.

“So, I'm the one who deserved all this?”

He pretended to be a fool for three years, and I sacrificed three years for him.

For over a thousand days and nights, I hadn't known a single moment of peace.

To cure him, I tested hundreds of drugs.

When I was six months pregnant, I learned of a new drug.

Its effects were unstable, with a potential side effect of leaving the user in a vegetative state.

That night, with trembling hands, I scheduled an abortion.

I could have another child, but I couldn't live without him.

After the procedure, I held the perfectly formed body of our child and cried until I passed out.

When I woke up, I walked into the laboratory.

Testing that drug nearly killed me.

The doctor said I could never be a mother again.

I never regretted it. But reality slapped me hard across the face.

The husband I had sacrificed everything for wasn't sick at all.

He faked it, just so he could live a blissful life with another woman.

Under the lights, an irrepressible rage simmered in Julian's eyes.

“I can explain, but what right do you have to hurt her?”

Seeing him confront me so accusingly, my own anger flared.

I raised my hand and threw the divorce papers in his face.

“What gives me the right? Everything I've sacrificed for you!”

I rose with a cold smile, lifted my long skirt, and revealed the hideous scars on my knees.

They were the marks left from kneeling day and night in the church.

When you're desperate, you place your hope in the divine.

My knees were worn raw, a mess of flesh and blood.

The skin would rot, scab over, and then tear open again.

On legs like these, I dragged myself through countless days and nights of prayer.

Even now, the memory of the pain makes me tremble.

But it was nothing compared to the pain in my heart right now.

Seeing my tears, Julian froze completely.

The anger in his eyes dissipated, leaving only a thick, inconsolable sorrow.

His legs buckled, and he collapsed to his knees before me.

His eyes were filled with guilt, his voice trembling.

But his words were needles of ice, piercing my heart.

“Gianna, please let her go. I'm begging you!”

“She's carrying my child. I have to protect her!”

How laughable.

He could watch me abort our child, yet he had to protect another woman.

In my memory, he never begged anyone for anything.

And he never cried in front of others.

Back when he was shot and on the brink of death, he still had a smile on his lips.

Now, he was kneeling before me for another woman.

Pleading with me, tears streaming down his face.

But why should I? Why should I let the woman who destroyed my life go free?

I raised the dagger and sliced it across his arm.

The blade split open the tattoo that matched mine.

Watching them embrace and weep, I knew that Julian and I were completely over.

I rubbed my temples, fighting back the exhaustion etched into my features.

I bent down, picked up the scattered divorce papers, and held them out to him again.

“Julian Whitaker, you're disgusting.”

Glancing at Sophia's swollen belly, I let out a sneer.

“Sign it quickly. Any later and the baby will be born.”

Alex, who had been with me for years, hurried forward, about to say something.

I stopped him with a raised hand.

For these past few years, I thought Julian's condition was karmic retribution for my own sins.

I had hidden all my sharp edges, wanting only a peaceful life for him.

He'd grown accustomed to my meekness, likely forgetting the woman I once was.

I looked at Julian's bloodshot eyes and gave him a gentle smile.

“I'll step aside. And by the way, I wish you a long and happy life together.”

Whether they'll live to enjoy it, however, is another question entirely.

What I didn't expect was that Julian didn't sign. He tore the divorce papers to shreds.

“I won't divorce you. What I owe you, I will repay.”

He shielded her behind him, his wary gaze fixed on me.

“But right now, I have to protect Vance, and I won't give you another chance to hurt her!”

From our youth to our wedding, we had weathered ten years of storms together.

Now, I had become the monster.

The wariness in his eyes was a blade to my heart, shattering my dignity.

I pulled out the gun hidden under the sofa and aimed it between his eyes.

My fingertips traced the jagged scar across my belly, and I laughed until I couldn't breathe.

“What you owe me… how could you possibly repay it?”

“You don't think I'd keep someone as filthy as you by my side, do you?”

The men behind Julian all drew their guns in unison.

Without exception, every barrel was aimed at me.

In the tense standoff, a sudden surge of courage sent that girl, Sophia, stumbling forward.

She grabbed the barrel of my gun and pressed it to her own forehead.

“If you're angry, then shoot me!”

“Don't blame Julian! He's just trying to protect his true love. What's wrong with that?”

She was so brazen, so utterly clueless.

But I had to admit, she possessed a bravery that even I could admire.

She was so much like I used to be.

I started to laugh.

“You want to die? I'll grant your wish!”

The click of a round being chambered sent a tremor through her body.

The next second, a throwing knife sliced through the air, burying itself in my arm.

I had never thought Julian would raise a hand against me for her.

The sharp pain made it almost impossible to hold the gun.

But I gritted my teeth, stubbornly refusing to let go.

Julian sighed and stepped forward, grabbing my hand. The sound of my wrist bone shattering was sickeningly crisp.

“Gianna, I told you, I won't give you another chance to hurt her!”

“Behave. I'll come back and explain everything after the baby is born.”

The gun clattered to the floor with a harsh sound.

I clutched my injured arm and gave a wretched smile.

“Julian, don't bother. I said I would step aside.”

“Just sign the papers, and we can let each other go.”

Julian took half a step back and shook his head.

His gaze was firm, yet held a sadness I couldn't comprehend.

During the stalemate, a loud thud suddenly came from behind him.

The girl, her back to him, clutched her belly and sank to her knees.

Only then did Julian notice that her back was a sea of red.

With a trembling hand, he lifted her shirt, revealing two large, blood-red words carved into the raw flesh of her back.

“WHORE!”

I had carved them there myself before he burst in.

Julian stared at me in disbelief, his voice turning cold.

“Gianna, you're really insane!”

“How could you? How could you hurt her like this?”

I couldn't help but laugh.

“What made you think she could come here, provoke me without restraint, and walk away unscathed?”

“Julian, you know me. Carving just two words was me showing mercy, for your sake!”

The veins on Julian's forehead bulged. I knew he had reached his limit.

“Gianna, get on your knees, apologize to Sophia, and I can pretend this never happened!”

But why should I?

I'm the one who was hurt. Why should I be the one to apologize?

I sneered, picked up the fallen dagger, and lunged toward Sophia's belly.

In a flash, Julian snatched a gun from one of his Soldati, aimed it at me, and pulled the trigger.

Bang.

There was no pain of a bullet tearing through flesh.

I looked down. A tiny tranquilizer dart was sticking out of my chest.

As my consciousness faded, I managed a bitter smile.

In the end, Julian still didn't have the stomach for it.

If it were me, it wouldn't have been a tranquilizer.