𝗙𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗕𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝗩𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗮 𝗨𝗻𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗲.
I never thought my world would crumble at the hands of a man like Alessandro Rossi-a 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 draped in silk suits and ruthlessness. One moment, I was Yasenia Fraga, daughter of the...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
He probably figured that saving my life would magically make me forget everything—like his cheating, or that things between us could somehow go back to how they were before—if there ever was anything worth salvaging. Sure, I owed him, Luca, and Miguel my life, but that didn't erase the image burned into my mind: that redhead on her knees, his cum smeared on her face. No amount of gratitude could scrub that away. I didn't expect much from this forced marriage, but I'd be damned if I let him disrespect me like that again.
Last night's nightmare wouldn't let me go, replaying on a loop like some twisted reel. Liam's sick grin, his eyes glinting with malice as he towered over me—it was a memory that brands itself into your soul. My hands still shook, haunted by blood that felt impossible to clean off, even if it wasn't there. Growing up as the daughter of one of Galicia's most feared mob bosses, I'd learned how to shoot young. Hell, I was even proud of my aim. But actually pulling the trigger and taking a life, was always different. And now, I'd taken two more. That same weight sat heavy on my chest again, making me wonder if I'd ever be able to shake it—or if I even deserved to this time.
The storm outside felt like a reflection of me—dark, angry, relentless. Thunder growled in the distance while rain hammered against the windows. Dragging myself out of bed felt like a punishment in itself. I'd been holed up in my room for days, dodging everyone's pitying looks. My books were a flimsy escape at best, and even they couldn't block out the memories clawing at me. Every time I caught my reflection in the mirror, it was like facing a stranger—someone hollowed out, bruised, and broken. And the worst part was that the nightmare didn't just live in my dreams; it had followed me into the daylight, refusing to let go.
A soft knock at the door pulled me out of my thoughts. "Posso entrare? (May I come in?)" Helena's gentle voice came through.
Shame hit me like a wave—I'd been so wrapped up in my own misery, I hadn't stopped to think about how much she'd been through too. She'd suffered, probably worrying herself sick over Andrea. The dark circles under her eyes said it all.
I ran a hand through my hair, trying to hide the bruises under my curls. "Sì, entra (Yes, come in)," I rasped, my voice rough from days of silence.
Helena stepped in, her frown deepening as she saw me. She placed a breakfast tray on the coffee table. "Buongiorno, signora Rossi (Good morning, Mrs. Rossi)," she murmured.
"Helena, per favore, chiamami Yasenia (Please, call me Yasenia)," I said softly. "Mi dispiace di non avertelo chiesto prima... ma come stai? (I'm sorry I haven't asked you this before, but how are you?)"
Her gaze dropped, and she hesitated. "Sto bene, signora Rossi (I'm alright, Mrs. Rossi)," she mumbled, clearly holding back.
"Per favore (Please)," I said, gently taking her hands in mine. "Non sono stata la persona migliore in questo momento, ma ci tengo a te. Mi dispiace di non averti controllato. So che sei preoccupata per Andrea (I know I haven't been my best, but I care about you. I'm sorry I haven't checked in with you. I know you're worried about Andrea)."
