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A Heart in Ruins Novel Cover

A Heart in Ruins

After seventeen years of marriage, Silvia Cross discovers the devastating truth: Vittorio Croft only married her to remain close to her sister. Granted a second chance at life, Silvia wakes up the morning after their lavish wedding before the legal papers are filed. Determined to avoid a lifetime of being a burden and a substitute, she strikes her name from the registry. This modern billionaire romance follows Silvia as she abandons her past to forge a new identity far from Vittorio’s indifference.
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Chapter 3

The first slap landed on my face with a searing sting, leaving a burning imprint on my cheek. Then, came the second, and the third…

I struggled desperately against the iron grip of the bodyguards, my voice hoarse, “Silvia, aren't you afraid your brother will settle the score with you?”

Silvia threw her head back and laughed brazenly, “Whatever trouble I cause, he’ll always be there to fix it for me. Even his wife is no exception.”

She leaned in, whispering into my ear, “Sylvia, I am his one and only. Keep it in your mind!”

With that, she kept slapping me, over and over again. I fought back with every ounce of strength I had left, but the bodyguards held me down. When the final, crushing blow fell, a metallic taste flooded my mouth. I spat up a mouthful of blood, my vision tunneling into darkness before I completely blacked out.

In the hazy void between consciousness and oblivion, I heard the front door burst open, followed by a fierce, commanding shout: “What the hell are you doing?!”

When my eyes finally fluttered open, I was lying on the bed in the bedroom. Vittorio sat beside me, his expression a mask of perfect, infuriating calm.

“I know what happened today,” his voice unbothered.

My throat was parched, voice raspy, “And then?”

“Silvia has been spoiled since she was a child.” he said lightly, as if discussing the weather. “I've already punished her. Don't hold it against her.”

I stared at him, searching for a flicker of genuine remorse in his dark eyes. “How did you punish her?”

Vittorio paused before pulling a tuft of hair from his pocket, “I know she cut your hair in a fit of jealousy. Now she has her own hair cut to offer an apology.”

A wave of utter absurdity washed over me. “What about slapping me?”

His voice remained as placid as a frozen lake, “Her hand also swelled up from hitting you. That counts as her punishment.”

I was left utterly speechless, a profound disappointment settling deep in my chest. Later, I burst into laughter, laughing so hard that tears streamed down my face. I asked myself why I have ever fallen in love with Vittorio.

Just as Vittorio opened his mouth to speak, I abruptly snatched the vase from the bedside table and smashed it violently onto the floor!

“Get out!” I screamed out, my eyes bloodshot.

Vittorio stood up slowly, his tone still eerily calm, “I know you're angry, but the doctor advised you to have a rest for recovery. You’d better calm down.”

Without another word, he walked out, not even turning his head back.

The moment the door clicked shut, the last thread of my restraint snapped. I curled into myself and broke down in bitter, soul-crushing sobs.

Three days later, a call from the embassy brought the only good news I’d heard in months. My permanent residency had been approved.

I raised my hand and twisted off the wedding ring, leaving behind only a faint pressure mark on my finger. I placed it gently on the table. I knew it was time for the nightmare to end.

In the pale light of early morning, I dragged my suitcase through the bustling airport terminal. Just as I approached the boarding gate, my phone buzzed in my pocket.

It was a text from Vittorio. [This is the gift for you after my business trip.]

He flied overseas to bid on the Princess Diana necklace for Silvia, and came back right now.

I let out a soft, cynical sneer. The gift was a cheap, ordinary bracelet, not even wrapped in a box. I knew it was merely a freebie. Yet, to my surprise, I didn't feel a pang of sadness. The love I once harbored for Vittorio had finally died. He never had a chance to hurt me again.

Clutching my boarding pass, I walked briskly toward the gate. As I lifted my gaze, I happened to see Vittorio stepping out of the VIP exit in the distance. Dressed in a sharp black trench coat, he still looked stern and untouchable.

I didn't call out to him. I simply watched him quietly walk away as if a stranger walked away from my past.

Vittorio Croft, happy divorce. Wishing you freedom……and wishing myself liberation.

A second later, I blocked all his contact information without a shred of hesitation. I turned around, and walked in the opposite direction, never to look back!

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