I Took The Bullet He Lost His Mind

Three days later, I finally had the termination agreement.

Dante had kept his promise and signed the document.

I looked at the paper, feeling a lightness I hadn't felt in a long time.

"Congratulations, Miss Elara," Antonio said, handing me a folder. "Here are the files for your projects."

I opened it. Inside was a record of my five years of work.

Every painting, every artifact, held a piece of my soul.

"There is one last event you need to attend," Antonio continued. "Tonight at eight. A celebration hosted by the Rossi family. It will be your final duty."

I frowned. "I thought the contract was terminated."

"It officially takes effect tomorrow," Antonio explained. "Consider tonight a farewell."

Fine.

One last time.

I went back to my apartment and changed into a simple black evening gown.

The woman in the mirror looked calm, but the light in her eyes was gone.

This was the price.

The price for loving the wrong man.

At 8 PM, I arrived at the Rossi family estate.

A lavish party was underway to celebrate the engagement.

Dante and Isabella were officially announcing their wedding date.

Three months from now.

I stood in the crowd, watching the couple embrace on the stage.

Isabella was in a red gown, a blooming rose.

Dante's arm was around her waist, a rare smile on his face.

"Honored guests," Isabella said into the microphone. "Thank you all for joining us at our first celebration since our engagement."

The room erupted in applause.

"Tonight, I have a special surprise for my fiancé."

She gestured for Dante to roll up his shirt sleeve.

My heart suddenly hammered against my ribs.

He had a tattoo on his wrist. A star compass. Ours. From three years ago.

"Guidance," he'd said. Because I was his.

I remembered that afternoon, lying on the tattoo parlor beds, he held my hand and said, "This is our secret. It will never change."

But when Dante rolled up his sleeve, I didn't see our tattoo.

The star compass was still there, but it was surrounded by a new design.

The Rossi family crest.

A coiled serpent, encircling the compass.

The new ink completely changed the meaning of the original.

"We've... updated it," Isabella announced, her voice dripping with triumph. "It symbolizes our future. Not his past."

She took his hand and kissed the modified tattoo.

More applause.

I stood in the corner.

My numb heart couldn't feel a thing.

The tattoo that once symbolized our love had been completely covered by her family's crest.

Just like my mark on his life was being erased, piece by piece.

"Isn't it beautiful?"

Isabella had appeared beside me.

She raised her wine glass, a victorious smile on her face.

"Did you see it? The tattoo," she continued. "Dante told me it was an impulsive mistake from his youth. It's finally been corrected."

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms.

"Dante said it himself. Some mistakes are so ugly, they need to be completely buried." Her eyes raked over me, a smug, vicious smile playing on her lips. "You understand what I'm saying, don't you, Elara? You are the mistake he's trying to bury."

I looked at her, the woman who would be Dante's wife.

"You win," I said quietly.

"Of course." Isabella smirked. "It was never a competition. Did you really think an art restorer could compete with a mafia princess? That whole business with Marco? The Russian Roulette?" She let out a little laugh. "It was a test. My test. To see who he'd protect when the chips were down. He chose me." She leaned closer. "He served you up on a silver platter, darling. You never stood a chance."

So my life was on the line… just for a mafia princess to punish her fiancé's mistress.

And when faced with her, Dante would never choose me...

She turned to leave, then looked back.

"By the way, the tattoo artist said the original design was hard to cover completely. But Dante insisted. He wanted it gone."

Her smile turned even more vicious.

"He said he didn't want to leave any trace behind."

Didn't want to leave any trace behind.

Those words finally pierced through my numbness.

I looked at Dante on the stage, laughing and talking with his guests.

On his wrist, the altered tattoo glinted under the lights.

Our past, my existence—he had erased it all.

Isabella's high heel stepped on my foot.

"Remember this. Some things were never meant for someone as low as you."