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.

Koma looked like a canvas washed in blood under the night sky.

I was changed into a very thin nightgown.

Cesare's bodyguards shoved me into the top-floor hotel suite where Carlos was staying.

My body burned with cold. The dizziness from sepsis kept me from being conscious.

I was inside the room.

Carlos was shirtless, playing with a high-voltage stun baton in his hand. Bits of skin from some unknown woman were still stuck on it.

"The Cesare kid actually sent me his best treasure this time," said Carlos.

He laughed eerily, causing his body fat to shake.

The air was filled with cheap cologne and a rotten smell.

The drugs fully took effect at that moment.

My body felt overheated, but the fever and wounds left me too weak to fight back.

Carlos was about to put his filthy hands on my chest.

I opened my eyes suddenly.

Using the last bit of strength I had, I grabbed the table lamp and smashed it hard against his head.

Crash! The lamp shattered.

He screamed and fell while I reached under his pillow.

I found a small handgun. A Beretta, to be exact.

I knew it was not loaded, but I still pulled the trigger to scare off the guards who were trying to rush in.

I then stumbled out of the room before I eventually found myself in the hallway.

The sound of leather shoes rushed closer. I could hear Cesare; his furious voice echoed through my earpiece.

"Rene! How dare you hurt Carlos? Your family will die for this!" he threatened.

I laughed bitterly.

'My family? You sent my family to the crematorium in my past life, you madman,' I snarled to myself.

I staggered toward the end of the hallway.

My vision became blurry. Every step felt like dancing on knives because of the wounds on my feet.

The guards pulled the trigger behind me.

Bang!

A bullet grazed my cheek and hit an expensive painting on the wall.

Despair surged like icy water, almost swallowing me whole.

I crashed open a solid wood door at that moment.

It was the executive suite on the top floor, also the only forbidden area in the hotel.

The room was dark with only faint city lights filtered in from outside.

A man sat with his back to me in a high-backed leather chair with a glass of red wine in his hand. His presence was intimidating, suffocating.

The footsteps behind me reached the door.

I had no time to think, so I locked the door immediately.

I did not care who he was. I rushed forward.

Then, I clung tightly to his leg and lifted my face, which was drenched in cold sweat and flushed red from fever.

Tears slid down my cheeks. My voice trembled with desperation and dangerous softness.

"Save me… I'll do anything as long as you save me.

"I'm Cesare Xandri's woman… I'm the best bargaining chip if you want to humiliate him…" I begged.

His hand, which was holding the wine glass, paused slightly.

He slowly turned his head.

That cold and restrained face of his was perfect, like a marble statue.

It made me freeze in place.

He was Wade Ferrani, the ruler of the ancient Corleone family in Ithel.

He was the mafia boss Cesare had desperately tried to butter up, yet never got to meet.

He looked down at me, his gaze as cold as ice.

"Cesare's woman?" he repeated.

His long fingers lifted my chin. A faint and amused smile curved his lips.

"You brought this on yourself," he said.