Mafia Princess’s Forever Loyalty

"I heard before that she was a snake. The Godmother treated her like a sister, but she threw her heartfelt gift into the sea out of jealousy!"

"Don Alexander, this bitch isn't worth any sympathy!"

Countless curses drilled into my ears.

Alexander stood on the high platform, watching this scene coldly.

Actually, he knew the truth better than anyone.

That necklace hid a high-precision bug installed by a rival family.

We discovered it together back then.

To prevent the timid Elena from feeling fear and guilt, I volunteered to play the villain, demanding the necklace in front of her to dispose of it.

Alexander was right there; he tacitly approved of my method.

But now, seeing everyone below condemning me, misunderstanding me as cold-blooded and heartless...

Alexander just stood there indifferently.

A trace of hesitation flashed in his eyes, but he remained silent, allowing the filth to be poured onto me.

In his heart, the current me deserved to be spurned by thousands.

Accompanying the crowd's insults and urging, the memory on the big screen changed scenes again.

It was a night of thunderstorms.

In the memory, I was covered in blood, stumbling to my knees in the muddy ruins.

I held tight to a corpse that no longer looked human.

It was Elena.

Every bone in her body had been crushed, and she lay limp in my arms like a broken rag doll.

The scene was extremely gruesome; the entire hall went dead silent instantly.

In the memory, I went mad, pressing my face against hers, which was covered in blood and filth, crying my heart out:

"I'm sorry... Elena... I'm sorry..."

"Wake up! Please, don't leave me!"

"Ah—!!!"

I looked up at the sky and screamed. The despair and pain in that voice were suffocating, even through the screen.

I held her like that, crying until I fainted in the storm, my hands digging into the mud so hard my fingernails were torn back.

Seeing this, Elena’s brother—the burly man who had nearly choked me to death earlier—suddenly roared:

"Fake! She's faking it!"

He pointed at the screen, his eyes red:

"If she was really sad, why didn't she tell us who the killer is!"

"What's the use of crying over Elena? Those are crocodile tears! It's to cover up her guilt for protecting the killer!"

"Ivy, you drama queen! You make me sick!"

Alexander stared fixedly at the mutilated corpse on the screen.

That was the woman he loved.

Seeing Elena’s death so tragic, Alexander’s heart seized with pain, and his face went pale.

A trace of violent struggle and pain flashed in his eyes; he seemed touched by the extreme grief in my memory.

But the next second, Elena's brother's words reignited his anger.

Yes.

If I really loved her, why wouldn't I name the real killer?

Why would I rather go to prison than expose that person?

The only explanation was—I was an accomplice!

Intense hatred instantly crushed that tiny bit of wavering.

Alexander straightened up abruptly, the red in his eyes more terrifying than a demon's.

"Ivy, since you won't talk, let the machine talk for you!"

"Let's see how long you can pretend!"

He turned his head and roared at the terrified technician beside him:

"Increase the power! Expand the extraction range to the limit!"

"I want to see every detail clearly! I want to see how you watched her die!"

The technician pushed the lever up with trembling hands.

The red needle on the instrument slammed to the max, letting out a piercing alarm.

Longer probes in the helmet instantly stabbed deep into my brain, the sound of electric current buzzing.

"Ah—!"

In reality, my body suddenly went rigid, and I let out an inhuman scream.

Blood flowed from the corners of my eyes and nose.

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