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He Only Remembers That I Am His Enemy Novel Cover

He Only Remembers That I Am His Enemy

For seven years, Elara lived as the despised enemy of Dante Moretti, the ruthless Don of New York's underworld. When intimate photos of them flash across Times Square during Dante's ninety-seventh attempt to marry his fiancée, Isabella, his fury ignites. Confronting Elara atop the Empire State Building, he discovers the leak was a high-stakes bet to see if he would abandon his bride. Consumed by rage, Dante pushes her over the railing, turning her gamble into a deadly struggle for survival.
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Chapter 3

By the time I arrived, the sanctuary that held all our beautiful memories had been reduced to a pile of rubble.

As if it had never existed.

Isabella was nestled in Dante's arms, her tone full of disgust.

"I really don't know who could be so vicious as to bury ashes here. Dante, why don't we just flush them down the sewer? Let this filthy thing never find peace."

Dante gently stroked her hair.

"Alright. Anyone who dares to scare my Isabella, I'll make sure their soul never finds peace."

Blood rushed to my head. I charged forward, grabbing a fallen shovel and swinging it hard at one of the thugs standing guard by Isabella.

Amidst Isabella's screams, I slapped her hard across the face twice.

"Who are you to touch my child? You dare trespass on my property? Get out!"

"Elara, what new madness is this?!"

Dante pulled her into his arms, glaring at me furiously.

"Miss Elara, this estate is in Don Moretti's name. You're just a squatter, taking advantage because he's too busy to deal with you. Have you no shame?" one of Isabella's men sneered.

"I was just wondering why there would be ashes here," Isabella added, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. "So you had a child with some other man, had an abortion because you were afraid it would ruin your reputation, and secretly buried it here. If you're not disgusted by it, we are. It's a bad omen!"

Isabella's last sentence seemed to strike a nerve with Dante.

His face grew even darker, and a cruel sneer twisted his lips.

"I knew it. Those photos in Times Square, you just replaced some other man's face with mine."

"Elara, all these years you've been sabotaging my relationship with Isabella, while secretly fooling around with other men and even having a bastard child. How dare you bury this filth on my land?!"

A white-hot rage seized him, and he couldn't even explain why.

Hearing his words, a chill spread through my heart.

Yes, Dante and I once had a child.

But on the very day we had planned to register our marriage, he was ambushed.

At the time, Dante was in a coma. The hospital declared him critical, telling his father to prepare for the worst.

His father, seeing him as a lost cause, was busy searching for a new heir among the family's collateral branches.

Aside from sending money, he never once visited.

I was the one who stayed by his side day and night, praying to every god I could think of, begging them to let Dante live.

But I miscarried from the sheer exhaustion.

When Dante regained consciousness, he ignored the doctor's advice and dragged his weakened body out to help me bury our child under the oak tree at the sanctuary.

He held me and cried like a child.

"Elara, it's all my fault, all my fault."

"Let's bury our baby here. I'm afraid he won't find his way home when he's reincarnated. In life or death, our family will always be together..."

Now, he was calling our child filth.

"Dante, what if I told you that this was our child?"

"On that urn, you personally carved 'D & E'. Don't you even recognize your own mark? Give it back to me!"

Dante froze, his gaze subconsciously falling on the small urn.

D & E...

Suddenly, Dante's head felt like it was splitting apart, and he clutched it instinctively.

"Dante!"

Isabella quickly supported him, snatched the urn, and glared at me.

"Miss Elara, that's enough! Don't you think you've caused Dante enough misery?!"

"Even if you hate him, you should have some decency! First you ruined our wedding, and now you're forging markings. Dante can't even stand the sight of you, how could he possibly have a child with you?!"

"What are your intentions, slinging such disgusting accusations at him?!"

The next second, Isabella opened the urn and pulled out a voodoo doll pierced with needles.

Her birthday and name were stuck to it.

"So you knew all along that Dante was going to build a rose garden for me here. You couldn't stand to see us happy, so you used this black magic to curse me! No wonder I've been feeling unwell lately!"

Dante was even more enraged, the earlier suspicion in his eyes vanishing completely.

"Elara, I know your grandfather believes in those old southern Italian sorceries and has dealt with all sorts of people to protect the Costello family's business."

"But I never thought you'd stoop so low. Knowing Isabella is my weakness, you resort to these despicable tactics just to get at me. You're irredeemable!"

"Kneel and apologize to Isabella, now!"

I looked at him with a sardonic smile.

"Why should I apologize for something I didn't do?"

"Then again, if that voodoo crap actually worked, I would've stuck a thousand needles in that doll and made the bitch beg for death!"

I had thoroughly provoked Dante. He waved his men forward.

Isabella quickly took his arm and advised.

"Dante, Elara is just a madwoman, she'll never admit she's wrong. I have some expertise in psychiatry, and with patients like her, you have to use the right treatment for the illness."

Dante's expression softened slightly.

"What do you mean?"

Isabella smiled triumphantly at me.

"For a stubborn lunatic like Miss Elara, the best course of treatment is high-voltage electric shock."

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