His Heart in Ragged Breaths

The next morning, I drove to a tattoo parlor tucked away in a back alley.

I pointed to the serpent design on my phone and told the tattoo artist, "This one, right below my collarbone. And be quick about it."

I hissed as the needle pierced my delicate skin. It hurt, but it had to look real.

Julian was the Don of New York; only a mark this raw and inflamed, as if freshly branded, would pass as evidence of a rough night with another man.

Next came the main event—the photo.

As a piece of collateral looking to "resign," my goal wasn't to hide my betrayal, but to broadcast it. I had to create an undeniable illusion of being possessed.

I undid the second button of my shirt.

The swollen tattoo was partially visible, a shameful yet defiant secret peeking out.

Now, for the final touch.

I leaned back in the chair, a dazed look in my eyes, and raised my phone, adjusting the angle. The picture had to capture the perspective of a new "master" documenting his prize.

I snapped the picture and saved it.

Changing into a turtleneck sweater and armed with my "evidence," I hummed a little tune as I drove to the train station.

…

At the station, Scarlett was radiant as she emerged with her suitcase.

No wonder she was his intended. Just by standing there, she had an allure that made it hard to look away.

"Ava!" she called, running toward me. But in the next second, her gaze snagged on the collar of my sweater, which hadn't fully covered the mark.

She pointed at the angry red swelling, stunned.

"Oh my god, Ava! What happened to your neck? Who did that to you? With Julian's possessiveness, how could he let that happen?"

I shrugged nonchalantly. "You wouldn't get it. This is the mark of freedom."

Scarlett gave me a complicated look but didn't press.

In the car, she fidgeted nervously, her face etched with worry.

"Ava, I'm actually terrified to see Julian. I ruined the Salvatore family's honor when I ran off with Blake. I only came back this time to make him jealous. What if Julian still hates me?"

"Don't be scared." I gripped the steering wheel, speeding as I tried to cheer her on.

"Don't forget, you two have a marriage contract! What if sparks fly when you meet? You might find out he's your destiny! Julian's the Don! He's a million times better than that brat Blake, who does nothing but piss you off! Besides…"

I glanced in the rearview mirror with a sly smile. "I'm also hoping someone more suitable can take over."

Scarlett was dumbfounded. "Re-really? But he already has you…"

I flashed a brilliant smile and said breezily, "As long as you two fulfill the contract, I don't mind him becoming my brother-in-law."

…

Soon, we arrived at the manor.

Perhaps it was fate, or perhaps Lady Luck herself had arranged this perfect scene.

Not long after I parked, a black, armored sedan pulled up behind us. The vehicle itself seemed to radiate a deadly stillness.

Julian was back.

The air seemed to freeze.

Scarlett's face turned pale. "It's him… he's in the car… I can feel it… that suffocating presence of his."

I stared at the black sedan, my heart pounding, but not with fear.

It was excitement. A thrill. The rush of dynamite about to blow the prison gates wide open.

To my left sat his rightful fiancée, exuding an innocent charm.

To my right, I—his lover, now marked as a betrayer—held a nuclear bomb in my phone.

This was the perfect time.

I pulled out my burner phone and brought up the "tattoo photo."

I typed in Julian's number and attached the image. Then, I composed the most provocative, infuriating text I could imagine—a direct assault on a Don’s pride.

"Salvatore, your little collateral is even tighter than she looks. Cried like a siren beneath me. Heard her sister’s back. Good. Go play house with your fiancée and leave Ava to a real man. Can't wait for another taste."

The car door slowly opened. A long leg clad in tailored trousers stepped out, slicing through the air with lethal grace.

Now!

I slammed the "send" button.

I turned off the phone, a wide smile spreading across my face.

"Bring it on, Julian," I thought.

Let the games begin. Time for the Don to face the ultimate humiliation.