Cesare Xandri, the rising gangster of the Nalitan mafia, unexpectedly lost a bet at an elite private casino in Ithel, the kind that smells like cigar smoke and blood money. The penalty was simple, he had to call his hard-to-tame pet.

The phone was on speaker. The men circled him, whistling and hooting, waiting to be entertained. He asked what I was up to in a relaxed and amused tone. I replied softly, insinuating he was sinful, hiding my defiance behind innocence and fake devotion. When I finished my insult, the room fell silent, then burst into loud and uncontrollable laughter.

The call ended. Less than thirty minutes later, the mansion gates were smashed open.

He stormed in smelling of gunpowder, a Beretta still in his hand. He pushed me against the wall furiously beneath the Virgin Mary statue. I leaned into him without hesitation, fingers brushing the heated gun, and I met his gaze without fear.

I chose virtue and rejected him in my past life, in return I was thrown into the open sea to die.

I intended to be his temptation when I got a second chance at life, I wanted to be a beautiful sin that ends his story under the Cecilian sun.

It was late at night in Koma, and the air smelled of salt from the sea.

Cesare pinned me into the corner of the wall in front of the angel statue. The cold muzzle of a Beretta was pressed hard against my chin.

"How dare you use God as an excuse to avoid me, Rene Santoro?" he accused.

He reeked of alcohol, and there were dark, dried bloodstains on his shirt. I did not know whose blood it was, only that it came from the raid he led on the Blue Note gang earlier that night.

I had screamed in fear at that demonic version of him in my past life. I cried and cursed him as a monster. In return, he broke my leg himself and locked me in a basement, forcing me to fight vicious dogs for food.

I looked straight into his eyes that were menacingly red. I did not pull away in this life. Instead, I pushed my chin closer to the gun.

I sneered and slid my soft fingers into his shirt.

"It hurts, Cesare," I said.

My voice was sweet and soft, almost tempting, mixed with restrained and shallow breaths.

"I saw how tired you were after fighting tonight, and I felt bad for you. I just wanted God to protect you. How is that avoiding you?" I asked.

His hand shook.

Suspicion filled his gaze.

I had always been cold and prideful in his mind. However, my eyes beguiled him like a flower that bloomed on a rotten corpse.

"What trick are you playing now, Rene?" he asked with a cold sneer.

Still, he lowered the gun without realizing it.

His large hand tore my robe open and threw me hard onto the expensive antique-style carpet.

There was no gentleness–only the rough force of a wild beast that violently took.

The pain made me dig my nails deep into my palms. Blood seeped through my fingers and stained the white wool carpet red.

However, I did not cry. I did not push him away.

I also wrapped myself around his waist and whispered disgusting words of affection into his ear, words that made me feel sick.

I felt like as long as I could make him drop his guard, as long as I could stay alive and take revenge, the pain meant nothing.

The phone in his pocket rang just as things grew intense.

It was the special ringtone he had set for Winter Luciani.

Cesare Xandri stopped.

He did not hesitate to pull away from my body. The sudden emptiness and tearing pain made me curl into a ball.

"What's wrong, Winter?" he asked softly into the phone.

His voice was so gentle that it made my skin crawl. He sounded nothing like the beast from moments ago.

"The people at the theatre bullied me, Cesare. They said my violin playing was bad, and they cut my hand. It hurts so much," cried Winter on the other end.

"Don't cry. I'll be right there. Whoever laid a finger on you will pay with their life," said Cesare.

He did not spare me a glance, who was lying half-naked on the carpet.

He quickly fastened his belt and secured his gun again.

I endured the sharp pain in my body and crawled over, grabbing the leg of his suit pants.

"Don't go, Cesare…" I begged.

My voice was hoarse, filled with a kind of humility I never had in my past life.

"Tonight is our third anniversary of running away to Ithel. You promised you'd stay with me," I said.

He turned back.

There was no desire left in his eyes, only disgust.

He lifted his foot and used the tip of his leather shoe to tilt my face up.

"You should know your place, Rene. Winter is a cloud in the sky, and you are only a dog that I own. A dog should act like a dog; don't dream of negotiating with the owner," he said.

He shoved me away, and my forehead slammed onto the base of the angel statue.

The door closed.

The manor fell into dead silence.

I laid on the cold floor, watching blood drip from my forehead, slowly staining the white roses at the feet of the statue.

I laughed.

My body shook from laughing, and tears would not stop falling.

'This is your idea of love, Cesare. In this life, on this sinful land, I will bury everything you have,' I swore in my heart.

The next evening at dusk, Cesare's assistant delivered a dress.

It was red like a sunset, and red like blood sprayed from a throat.

The deep V-neckline plunged low, and the skirt was so short that it barely covered my upper thighs.

It was not a formal gown; it looked more like something meant for street hookers.

I knew Winter hated red, so Cesare chose the dress on purpose. He wanted me in red so that her pure-white dress would stand out.

It was his way of humiliating me in public.

I showed no reaction and put the dress on. I also put on high-glam makeup.

That night was a secret dinner for the five major Ithelian mafia families. Cesare, the rising gangster of the mafia, needed to use the dinner to climb to a higher status.

The dinner venue was set inside an ancient Cecilian castle.

The air was thick with cigars, expensive perfume, and the faint smell of gunpowder hidden beneath it all.

Winter held onto Cesare by the arm, and she wore a white lacy gown. She looked like an angel who had wandered into the mortal world.

I followed closely behind them.

I looked like something he could summon whenever he wanted, like a joke for others to tease at.

"Well now, is this your little pet, Cesare?" someone joked.

He was a heavily tattooed mafia boss, staring at me lustfully–disgustingly.

Cesare did not get angry. He, in fact, laughed along with it.

"Just a toy to pass the time. Feel free to look if you all like her," he said.

Winter covered her mouth to chuckle, then she looked at my high heels.

"The castle floor is very historical, Rene. It would be such a pity to dance on it with shoes," she said.

She turned and tugged at his sleeve, acting spoiled.

"I want to see Rene dance that classical piece, Cesare–the type that needs to be barefoot. It would be very graceful," she requested.

Cesare took a sip of whiskey and looked at me coldly.

"Take them off," he ordered.

The marble floor was embedded with hard diamond shards.

The air-conditioning was turned up high too, so the floor felt like ice.

I said nothing and bent down silently to undo the straps of my heels.

The moment my bare feet touched the cold floor, sharp pain shot through them.

I began to dance.

I spun and leapt.

The soft skin of my feet rubbed against the sharp fragments and icy marble.

Lewd whistles rose around me.

Those men watched like they were at a circus. Some also tossed dollar bills at my feet.

Soon, the skin on my soles bled.

Bloody footprints appeared on the white marble; it was clear and gruesome.

When the dance ended, my body trembled from the pain, and I could barely stand.

Winter walked over with a glass of red wine, pretending to help me stand still.

"You danced so beautifully, Rene," she said.

Her hand slipped.

A full glass of red wine poured down my chest.

The cold liquid flowed into the deep V-neckline, soaking the thin fabric.

The cloth clung tightly to my body, fully outlining my curves.

The men erupted into louder cheers.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry! I didn't hold it right!" exclaimed Winter.

She cried out and hid in his arms, looking like a frightened little rabbit.

Cesare glanced at my miserable state.

Then, he looked at her white dress that was ruined by only a single drop of wine.

"Are you blind, Rene?" he scolded.

His tone was cold, like he wanted to stone me where I stood.

"You dirtied Winter's dress. Can you afford to pay for that?" he asked.

He strode over and kicked the back of my knee.

I crashed to the ground. My knees slammed into diamond shards, sending stabbing pain through my body.

"Kneel, and clean Winter," he ordered.

The hall fell silent. Everyone watched me as a joke, even though I am his missus.

My hands shook as I lifted them. Using the torn hem of my red dress, I slowly wiped her high heels clean.

Winter looked down at me.

She lowered her voice so only I could hear. "In Ithel, someone like you only deserves to die in a trash pile, Rene."

Cesare sneered coldly, as if that was still not enough.

He suddenly pulled the short knife from his waist and slashed my dress.

The skirt was already ruined. It was then torn apart, exposing most of my thighs.

"Go away and stop embarrassing yourself here," he said.

He wrapped his arm around Winter and walked toward the private room without looking back.

I was on the floor. Diamond shards bit into my palms, leaving them a bloody, mangled mess.

That pain reminded me of my past life, right before he starved me to death. It was a wound that never healed.

I stared at the blood on the floor.

'You'll get a taste of this soon enough, Cesare. You'll know what it's like to kneel on the ground, begging,' I mused.

I developed a high fever on the first night back at the manor.

My stomach hurt so badly that I curled into a ball.

Cold sweat soaked the bedsheets. I gasped for air like a dying fish, and I struggled to breathe.

I wanted to live.

I called Cesare. It was the backup phone he had specifically left for me.

The phone rang for a long time before someone answered. Deafening heavy metal music blasted on the other end, though.

I could hear Winter's excited squeals.

"Who is this?" snapped Cesare impatiently.

"Cesare, I'm sick… Save me…" I groaned.

My voice was so weak, it was almost inaudible. Every word felt like it tore my lungs apart.

"Don't ruin the mood if you're not dead," he sneered. "Winter is playing death roulette right now. Are you trying to curse me to lose by calling me at a time like this?" he added.

The call was cut off without mercy.

I forced myself to get up. I planned to go to the medicine room to find some antibiotics.

The door was pushed open from the outside.

Winter walked in with two burly mafia bodyguards.

She carried a bucket filled with ice.

"I heard you have a fever, Rene?" she asked, smiling like an innocent angel.

"Cesare asked me to check on you and help cool you down," she said.

She signaled the guards, and before I could react, I was dragged to the fountain in the courtyard.

Cecilian winters were not freezing, but the wind was bone-chilling cold.

The guards roughly forced me into the icy water.

Splash!

I screamed and struggled, but they held me down.

"Are you feeling more awake now, Rene? Cesare said a woman full of schemes like you should soak in cold water more often," she said.

Winter stood by the pool, calmly stirring her coffee.

Cesare returned at that moment.

A strong smell of blood clung to him.

Winter immediately dropped the coffee and rushed into his arms while crying.

"Cesare! It's Rene! She's gone crazy. She insisted on jumping into the water to hurt herself. She said you abused her and that she was going to sell our shipping routes to our enemies!" she accused.

Cesare looked at me, drenched and shaking in the cold wind.

He looked at my frozen face that was turning bluish-purple.

There was no pity in his eyes, only cruelty.

"Selling our routes?" he asked.

He walked over, grabbed my wet hair, and shoved my head into the water.

Gurgle, gurgle!

Water flooded my nose. The suffocating feeling of death rushed back again.

Only when I was about to pass out did he pull me up.

"You don't give up until you've met your consequences, Rene," he said.

He kicked me aside and told the guards, "Lock her in the interrogation room in the basement. Don't give her medicine and water. Let her clear her head in there."

I was locked inside that room, filled with dried blood stains and the rotting stench.

The wounds on my knees and the soles of my feet quickly became infected after being soaked in ice-cold water.

The high fever blurred my consciousness.

The vision of my past life came to view again, and I was back to the moment when I was thrown into the sea.

It was cold. Oh-so cold.

…

The next morning, I was awakened again by cold water being splashed on me.

The doctor was kneeling on the floor, and his hands were shaking.

"Mr. Xandri… She's developed acute sepsis… She won't survive tonight if she isn't treated," he said.

Cesare lit a cigar and looked at me indifferently.

"Let her die if she doesn't survive. It's a miracle she's lasted this long," he said.

Suddenly, he exhaled a ring of smoke as if he thought of something.

"I still need to use her before she dies," he said.

He threw a contract at me.

"Carlos specifically asked for you. I'll give you a chance to live as long as you make him happy tonight," he said.

Carlos, that perverted illegal arms dealer who loved using precise instruments to torture and kill women in bed.

Cesare was willing to send me to hell to protect his smuggling business while I was seriously ill.

I clenched the bedsheet tightly and stared at his handsome yet ruthless face.