Poisoned Passion: Burn From My Love

That day, while sorting through intelligence reports, a tabloid headline caught my eye and pierced straight through me.

It read, "Don Salvatore Russo and His Wife Rumored to Be Separating."

Beneath it was a photo of him and Rosa walking side by side into a hotel.

The tabloids spun wild stories about why our marriage was falling apart. Everyone believed I was too proud, too cold, and too difficult to love. That was why Salvatore couldn't take it anymore.

They were wrong. In truth, I was the one who couldn't let go.

In a fit of rage, I ripped the newspaper to shreds.

…

That same day, I auctioned off the yacht Salvatore had given me. It was a luxury vessel named The Arianna.

Everyone stared at each other in disbelief. They knew how much I adored that yacht, so how could I possibly sell it?

Just then, someone called out jokingly, "I'll bid a dollar!"

With every eye on me, I brought the gavel down with a soft tap. "Sold. It's yours."

I had barely stepped backstage when my phone rang. It was Salvatore.

"Principessa, I heard you sold the yacht. Who upset you this time? Don't be angry. It's not worth it. Tell me. Do you want a seaside villa, or that showstopper diamond necklace?"

His tone was as gentle as ever. "Whatever you want, I'll give it to you. Even if it were the moon, I'd find a way to reach it."

There was a time when his sweet talk could sweep me off my feet. But now, even his sweetest words tasted like poison.

I let out a chuckle before hanging up. Then, I sent him a message. "I don't want anything. Just come back and play a game with me."

Without a moment's hesitation, he replied, "Alright."

…

A few days later, I stood on the deck of The Arianna, just before it was handed over to its new owner.

The breeze ruffled Salvatore's hair as he stepped aboard. His gaze held the same softness until he saw Rosa tied up beside me.

"Arianna, what the hell is this?" he asked sharply.

Before I could say a word, Rosa screamed, "Salvatore, help me! She's going to toss me into the sea and feed me to the sharks!"

All at once, Salvatore lost his mind.

"Arianna, is that true? Are you really going to throw her overboard?" he demanded.

He didn't bother to hide his concern for another woman, not even when I was standing right there.

I let out a wry chuckle. There weren't any sharks in these waters, but his fear was real.

I clenched my jaw, fixed my gaze on him, and spat, "I know everything about the two of you. Salvatore Russo, I'm giving you two choices. Either you throw her overboard yourself and maybe I'll forgive you, or I'll do it for you."

There was no room for betrayal in my life, and even less in my bed.

Now, Salvatore owed me an answer.

"Arianna! Why are you doing this?" he roared, fury blazing in his eyes. "This is between us. Leave Rosa out of it!"

In the next instant, I lifted a hand.

A loud thud echoed as one of the soldati slammed Rosa against the railing. She let out a piercing scream.

As Salvatore heard that, his fists clenched tight, and his eyes burned red. "What if I refuse to choose? Arianna, are you really going to make yourself my enemy?"

I stood frozen, staring at him in disbelief. He knew better than anyone that I could never go against him. After all, he was the only one who had ever pulled me back from the edge.

The night my father died, I smashed everything in the house, shards flying everywhere.

When Salvatore heard of it, he dropped a multimillion-dollar deal and rushed home. I was still gripping a shard of glass when he walked in, but he didn't flinch.

He strode toward me, and in the next second, pulled me into his arms. The shard sliced across his face, blood running down from his jaw to his collar.

It wasn't until the metallic tang hit me that I finally snapped out of my haze.

I dropped the shard and broke down crying, telling him I never meant to hurt him.

Yet, Salvatore smiled faintly and whispered, "It's alright, principessa. I'm yours. You can do whatever you want to me."

After that, a faint scar remained on his face. Every time I saw it, I swore I'd never hurt him again.

But now, he was asking if I was going to turn against him.

I stared at Salvatore, and for the first time, he felt like a stranger. My throat tightened as I said, "There's no point anymore. If you won't choose, I will."

One soldato had already pushed Rosa halfway over the rail, her body dangling above the water. Her face went pale before she passed out.

"I'll give you three seconds," I told Salvatore.

I bet he'd give in first, just like he always did.

"Three…"

"Two…"

Before I even reached one, a deafening blast tore through the air. Salvatore had ordered his men to fire a torpedo at The Arianna just to save Rosa.

Flames consumed the deck as thick smoke filled the sky. Within moments, the yacht split in two.

Just like that, the vessel once envied by countless women was destroyed in a blaze.

A violent jolt threw both Rosa and me into the sea. The icy water burned against my skin as I broke the surface, gasping for air.

"Salvatore…" I choked out. "You'd go this far for a spy?"

He sighed, his voice strangely distant amid the chaos. "This is the second time, Arianna. No matter how much I've spoiled you, I won't let Rosa suffer for my sake again."

Then, at his command, every rescue boat headed straight for Rosa. He, too, swam toward her.

"Principessa, I know you can swim," Salvatore called over his shoulder. "You'll hold on a little longer. Just wait for me."

Even then, he still had the nerve to call me principessa. I chuckled bitterly, the taste of blood spreading across my tongue.

Yes, I could swim, but not when I was carrying his child.

Through the blur, I saw Salvatore lift Rosa onto a rescue boat, gently pat her back, and wrap my blanket around her.

With that, he sped away with her, leaving me adrift in the open sea.

At that moment, a sharp pain ripped through my abdomen, and a sudden warmth spread beneath me.

The waves rocked me, as if the sea itself were a cradle. At the same time, the world slowly faded into darkness.

I remembered all those nights when I nestled against Salvatore—how he'd rest his hand on my stomach and pray for a little angel of our own.

But now, he had left his principessa to drown and harmed the angel he once prayed for.

I had known Salvatore for nearly 20 years. It didn't matter anymore whether I loved or hated him. There would be no future for us.