CHAPTER 42

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STEFANO

I punch the life out of the punching bag in front of me, my knuckles bruised and covered in blood. The rhythmic thud of my fists against the leather echoes through the empty gym, drowning out the sound of my ragged breathing. I've lost track of time, but the fading stars and the soft glow of dawn filtering through the windows tell me I've been here all night.

The creak of the door and the sharp click of heels against the marble floor break through my haze of anger and guilt. I don't need to turn around to know who it is.

"Stefano," Aurora's voice is soft, concerned. I ignore her, continuing my relentless assault on the punching bag. "You need to take a break," she says, grabbing the bag to stop its swinging.

I move wordlessly to another bag, my hands aching for the impact. Aurora follows, her designer heels incongruous in the stark gym setting. "Stefano, what happened is not your fault. Please come to the hospital and see Andrea. It might be the last time you might ever see her," she pleads, her voice cracking with emotion.

I still don't reply, my mind consumed by the image of Ivan's face on the punching bag. I need to keep hitting it, need to let out the fury that's tearing me apart. Aurora steps in front of me, grabbing my raised fist in mid-air.

"Aurora, I suggest you move away," I say, my voice devoid of emotion. All I see is Ivan's face, and I need to obliterate it. I don't care that my hands are a mess of blood and bruises. I just need to keep going.

"Stefano, I am so sorry this happened, but you can't blame yourself like last time. What happened then and now is not your fault. Please, stop blaming yourself." Aurora's voice is filled with a mix of desperation and love. She knows me too well, knows that my refusal to go to the hospital is rooted in guilt.

I feel my control slipping, the carefully constructed walls crumbling. "Aurora, you are telling me it's not my fault when Andrea is lying in the hospital, barely alive. You are standing here in front of me, telling me it is not my fault when the motherfucker that did that to her is Vladimir. You know it's my fault; you are just saying it isn't, so I won't kill myself for allowing it to happen. Do not worry, I won't. I am only allowed to die when Vladimir is dead!"

The words pour out of me, raw and painful. I'm dressed in black sweatpants and a tank top, both drenched in sweat. My hands, wrapped in bloodied tape, tremble with exhaustion and barely contained fury.

If I hadn't allowed myself to fall for Andrea, if I had kept my heart closed off, she wouldn't be lying in a hospital bed, fighting for her life. I made a mistake by letting her in by believing I could have something good in this life. Deep down, I know it's not her fault. She's an amazing woman, and it was impossible not to fall for her.

Aurora opens her mouth to speak, then closes it, repeating this a few times as she struggles to find the right words. Finally, she sighs deeply, her shoulders sagging in defeat. "Stefano, still, please stop blaming yourself. Come to visit the hospital and visit Andrea."

"This is where I am meant to be right now," I reply, turning away from her. I hear her release a deep sigh, probably giving up and, and her footsteps retreating, the sound of her heels fading as she leaves me alone with my demons.

As the door closes behind her, I let out an anguished scream. "Fuck!" The memory of finding Andrea in my penthouse, surrounded by a pool of her own blood, flashes before my eyes. I can still feel her body growing cold in my arms as I desperately call for Samuel to get help. I had never felt fear like that in my life, but in that moment, it gripped my heart like an icy fist.

The luxurious gym, with its state-of-the-art equipment and panoramic views of the city, feels suffocating. I should have known better than to let anyone close, to allow myself to feel. Andrea's vibrant smile and warm eyes haunt me, a stark contrast to the broken, bloodied form I had cradled in my arms.

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