Worn by Love and Hate

Seven years ago, my mafia husband, Sergio Wexler, had me committed to a psychiatric ward.

On the day I was released, I changed my name, cut my hair short, and vanished like a ghost.

Seven years later, we meet again at the grave of my brother, Luca Lorusso.

The bouquet in his hand falls with a soft thud.

Sergio clenches his fists tightly, barely holding back emotions that threaten to break through his usual calm.

"Janella, why the short hair? I almost didn't recognize you. Where have you been all these years? After that fire at the psych ward, I pulled every string I had, but I never got any leads on you. I've been looking for you for seven years. I even thought you were… dead."

When I stay silent, he rubs his red-rimmed eyes. "You're avoiding me, aren't you? Do you still hate me for having you locked up? Believe me, I had no choice."

I let out a bitter laugh.

Sergio killed Luca to become the Don. He slept with Luca's woman and locked me in that dark, windowless "special ward", nearly erasing me from existence.

And now, here he is at Luca's grave, playing the victim.

To me, any love and hate I had for Sergio died long ago in that tiny, suffocating ward.

Now, he's just a stranger to me.

After all this time apart, I felt nothing at all.

I avoided my ex-husband, Sergio Wexler, and walked straight to the grave of my brother, Luca Lorusso.

Sergio didn't move. He just stood there like a statue, watching me.

I bent down and gently laid a lily on the stone.

In the photo, Luca looked at me with such affection. But his smile was frozen forever at 27.

If he were still here, I'd be curled up in his arms, acting like a child. No matter how hard things got, he would never let me suffer.

But he was gone.

When I ended up in the forensic psychiatric ward later on, there was no one left to protect me.

"Luca, I'm back," I whispered as I traced the cold stone's edge. "I've got some good news I want to tell you myself."

Before I could say more, footsteps sounded behind me.

Sergio came up to my side and held out a black velvet box.

"I promised you back then that I would design a piece of jewelry for you every year on your birthday. I couldn't find you, so I kept them all."

He opened the box to reveal seven carefully arranged pieces of jewelry. From diamond studs to a pearl necklace, each piece was expensive. Everything also had my name engraved, carved by his own hand.

Sergio had put a lot of thought into it, but I only glanced once, then lost interest.

His hand froze mid-air. He seemed surprised by my rejection, as a flicker of hurt crossed his face.

"You don't like them? I can make new ones. Anyway, let's have lunch. I'll book your favorite Etavian restaurant."

"No, grazie," I said flatly. "I don't like Etavian food anymore."

Sergio stiffened, as if something had stung him.

Just as he was about to say something, the phone in his pocket began to ring.

"Tesoro, when are you coming home? Today's our seventh anniversary. I put on that sexy lingerie you like."

It was Elena Lazzari's voice.

My steps faltered, and my fingers clenched my sleeve.

Elena was the "true love" Luca once risked his life to protect. And now, she was flirting with the man who killed him.

We really did have the worst taste in partners.

My chest tightened as though someone had squeezed it. I gasped for air.

On the other end, Elena cooed, "Why do I hear a woman's voice?"

Sergio gave Elena a few perfunctory words of comfort before hanging up.

Then, he casually pulled a pill bottle from his blazer pocket. "Your lungs can't handle the cold. It'll trigger your asthma. Take this."

"I don't need it," I replied coldly.

Ignoring his offer, I glanced once more at Luca's photo, then turned away.

"Janella, wait!"

From behind me came the sound of his footsteps, hurried yet restrained.

I didn't stop, nor did I look back.

Seven years ago, Sergio warned me never to show up in his life again. So why was he clinging to me now?

The rain had just stopped. My thin-soled shoes hit the cold stone, and the chill crept up my legs. My knees trembled slightly.

I glanced at my dwindling battery life and waited anxiously for the bus.

Just then, a black Maybach pulled up beside me.

"Janella, have you been with anyone else all these years?" Sergio asked.

I looked up and caught the faint glimmer of anticipation in his eyes.

But his plan was about to fall through.

I came back just to tell Luca that I was getting married, but I wasn't going to share that with Sergio. I was no longer his wife, and he didn't deserve to know about my life.

I remained silent, yet Sergio read into it what he wanted to believe. He let out a breath, clearly relieved.

"Janella, you must have had it rough. If you ever need anything, just call me. I haven't changed my number all these years because I feared you wouldn't be able to find me."

My lips curled into a barely visible, sardonic smile.

The same man who mercilessly threw me into a forensic psychiatric ward and tried to cut me out of his life now stood before me, pretending he still loved me.

How pathetic.

"No, grazie. I'm not interested in being a mistress."

The bus pulled up, and I stepped on without a backward glance.

The bus rolled away from the cemetery, toward the old house Luca and I once shared.

As I gazed out the window, a vision of Luca flickered before my eyes.

We used to ride bikes down this road. I could almost feel the wind on my face and hear his voice as he looked back at me.

"Janella, when this is all over, I'll take you away to some quiet town with no blood or bullets. We can live simple, happy lives."

Now, there was no trace of Luca on this road. I was all that remained.