Chapter 4

My hands trembled, but under Dante's threatening gaze, I slowly removed my jacket.

In an instant, my nearly naked body was exposed before hundreds of eyes.

Camera flashes exploded like fireworks as whispers rippled through the crowd: "Jesus, look at her... she might as well be naked."

Antonio Ricci licked his thick lips and approached me, his eyes roaming over my body.

"Mrs. Moretti, you're exactly what I need for my Vegas clubs."

I instinctively stepped back, but he moved closer. "A woman like you would be very... profitable."

Then Dante's ice-cold voice cut through from behind me: "Evelyn, show our guests some Moretti hospitality."

He shoved me hard, and I stumbled into Antonio's arms.

Music began to play. Antonio's hands immediately locked around my waist.

"Don't..." I struggled against him.

But he spun me around, one hand lifting my skirt while the other grabbed the ties at the back of my dress and yanked hard—

Rip—the lacing came loose, velvet fabric sliding down. I desperately crossed my arms over my chest, but my black lace bra was already exposed under the spotlights.

Around us, camera flashes went wild and the crowd's excitement grew louder.

"Dante!" I screamed, looking toward him.

He stood at the edge of the dance floor, holding his whiskey, a smile playing at his lips. He was applauding, as if enjoying a show.

From the VIP section came casual commentary:

"Your wife's quite the performer, Dante. Mind if I borrow her for my casino?"

Chloe covered her mouth in mock concern: "Oh my, Evelyn's dress... has she been drinking?"

Dante took a sip of his drink: "This is nothing. You should see what she does behind closed doors."

Antonio's fingers found the clasp behind my bra, giving it a quick tug—

Snap—sudden coldness hit my chest as I was completely exposed to the frigid air.

I maintained my protective posture, but there was nothing left to protect. Standing there naked in the center of the dance floor, in front of everyone.

Tears burst from my eyes, but I bit my lip, refusing to make a sound.

Antonio whispered in my ear: "Keep fighting, little bird. They love the struggle."

The music continued. I felt like a broken doll.

On the ride home, the Rolls-Royce's back seat was tomb-silent. I huddled in the corner, still carrying Antonio's stench. Chloe leaned against Dante's shoulder, eyes closed in satisfaction.

Back at the estate, I tried to escape upstairs.

"Evelyn, don't you want to celebrate?"

Chloe sat on the sofa, slipping off her heels.

"Tonight was absolutely wonderful. You know, I'm almost jealous. Having so many powerful men interested in you."

I stopped, my patience finally snapping: "Jealous of being displayed like meat? Or having strangers' hands groping my body?"

I walked toward her: "Chloe, you're still young. Find someone decent, live a normal life. You can still get out."

"Someone decent?" She stood up with a cold laugh. "What could they give me? Dante's monthly allowance exceeds most people's yearly salary. Why would I give this up?"

The sound of a Maserati's engine came from outside.

Chloe's expression changed instantly. "Who are you to lecture me?" she suddenly raised her voice. "At least I haven't betrayed the family!"

"What?"

She quickly pulled a recording device from between the sofa cushions and hit play: "You think I don't know about you contacting the FBI?"

The recording played my voice—but words I'd never spoken:

"FBI? This is Evelyn Moretti... I have financial records... casino money laundering accounts... I need witness protection..."

"That's fake!" I lunged toward her.

"Evelyn, how could you betray Dante like this?" Chloe's voice trembled as she backed away. "Are you going to kill me to keep me quiet?"

She suddenly fell beside the coffee table with a loud crash.

"Help! Someone help me! She's trying to kill me!"

The door burst open. Dante rushed in, murderous rage burning in his eyes.

The scene he saw: Chloe lying on the floor, head bleeding, clothes torn. Me standing over her, holding a heavy crystal ashtray. The recording device still playing my "betrayal."

"What the fuck is going on here?"

"Those weren't my words! Dante, you have to believe me!" I desperately tried to explain.

He picked up the recording device and replayed it: "I can provide all the criminal evidence..."

"Enough!" His roar made the crystal chandelier tremble. "Family law demands a reckoning for traitors."

My blood turned to ice. The reckoning—the Moretti family's ultimate punishment for betrayers.

Two bodyguards grabbed my arms and dragged me toward the stairs. I struggled and looked back at Dante, but his eyes showed only cold determination.

"Dante! I'm your wife!"

"But you betrayed me." His voice was sharp as winter ice.

The basement chamber's stone walls were carved with a century of Moretti family history. Uncles and cousins formed a semicircle, like an ancient tribunal.

In the central brazier, the branding iron glowed red-hot.

"Evelyn Moretti, betrayer of the family, seller of secrets." Dante raised the burning iron. "This is the price."

"No! Dante, please let me explain—" I broke free from the guards' grip and fell to my knees, wrapping my arms around his legs. "That recording is fake! I never contacted the FBI!"

"Please believe me, I'm your wife! I would never betray you!" I held him tightly, crying.

Dante looked down at me, his eyes filled with disgust.

"Let go." His voice was ice-cold.

I held on tighter: "Dante, I love you, how could I possibly—"

He suddenly lifted his foot and kicked hard at my abdomen. "I said let go!"

His boot struck my lower belly. The crushing pain made me instantly release him, my whole body curling up on the floor.

"Now, receive your mark." He raised the iron without hesitation.

The branding iron seared into my shoulder blade. My scream echoed through the chamber.

Pain shot through my entire body like electricity. The last thing I saw was Dante's emotionless face.

Everything spun as I was dragged into the basement holding cell. The iron door slammed shut, darkness enveloping me.

Hours later, cramping pain struck my abdomen. Blood flowed between my legs. I reached down with trembling hands.

I had been pregnant. Past tense.

In this cell, I lost our child. Dante didn't even know it had existed.

"Dante Moretti..." I gritted my teeth. "You destroyed my reputation, branded my body, and killed our child."

I don't know how long I lay unconscious in that pool of blood until the creaking of the iron door echoed in the darkness.

Giuseppe's face appeared in the doorway, his eyes filled with shock and pity.

"Madonna mia... signora, what has he done to you?"

He secretly brought medicine and clean water, wrapping my shivering body in a blanket. His hands trembled as he tended to my wounds.

"Your father, he saved my son's life twenty years ago," Giuseppe whispered. "I cannot let Lorenzo Valenti's daughter die in this hell."

His words reminded me of my father. "Giuseppe, I need a favor..."

A week later, I lay in a private hospital bed. My shoulder was wrapped in thick bandages, the brand still throbbing. Giuseppe had secretly brought me here, telling everyone I had fallen seriously ill.

I stared at the ceiling, my mind replaying those scenes—the humiliation at the gala, Chloe's setup, the disgust in Dante's eyes, and the child that would never be born.

I had lost everything.

But then Chloe appeared in the hospital doorway, dressed in Chanel with only a faint scar on her head, barely visible.

"You look like hell, Evelyn." Her smile was particularly sweet. She thought I was completely defeated, thought I would never recover.

"Congratulations, Chloe. You won." I looked at her calmly, but something was burning in my eyes. "Now I just want to leave Dante, leave Chicago."

I pointed to the documents on the nightstand: "Use your specialty—manipulate him into signing. In a month, you'll be the rightful queen."

Chloe's eyes flashed with wild joy as she reached for the irrevocable divorce papers—once signed by both parties, there was no going back.

"Are you really giving up?" She could hardly believe it.

"Completely." I closed my eyes. "I'm tired, Chloe. Everything you want, take it."

But deep down, I knew—this wasn't the end. This was the beginning.

Two days later, Chloe triumphantly delivered the signed documents to me.

Holding Dante's signature, I returned to the estate's master bedroom one final time.

I stuffed all the luxury items from the walk-in closet into garbage bags, smashed our wedding photos, and threw our honeymoon mementos into the fireplace one by one. The flames turned our past into ash.

In the firelight's glow, I touched the permanent scar on my shoulder. This mark would forever remind me—once, I had believed in love.

I slowly removed my wedding ring and placed it on the nightstand.

"Goodbye, Dante Moretti."