Racing My Heart to You

I found his accusation absurd. "She shamelessly stole our garage, and now she's framing me and slinging mud?"

"Vito Moretti, don't push me."

It took me only a second to completely rule out the possibility that my crew was involved.

They might have grown up on the streets, but they lived by the underworld's code. They would never do something as low as sending a woman razor blades.

When Vito heard me insult Isabella, the violence in his eyes flared, and a vein throbbed at his temple.

He clenched his fists, reminding himself that Liliana was his wife, an untamable wild rose. As heir to the family, it was his duty to teach her to submit.

"I'm not going to argue with you about this."

"Apologize to Bella. Now. You will kneel before her and beg for her forgiveness. You will beg her not to leave. You will make her feel safe enough to take over that damn garage."

My pupils dilated. My breath seemed to stop, my chest forgetting to rise and fall.

Me, apologize to Isabella? Beg her to take my life's work?

A thick, metallic taste rose in my throat. I clenched my jaw, forcing the words through my teeth. "In. Your. Fucking. Dreams."

He grabbed my shoulders, his grip so tight I thought he would crush my shoulder blades. "You're going."

"Liliana, Bella's father gave his life for mine. That makes him your benefactor. Drop the spoiled Principessa act. We do not repay kindness with betrayal."

I stared at his cold face, my voice as still as a stagnant pool. "Vito, we're divorced."

"Whatever you want to do to repay your debt, if you want to give your life for her, that's your business. Just stop disgusting me."

"Still talking back?" Vito sneered, looking at me as if I were a misbehaving pet. "You were willing to bet your life for me. You love me that much. You couldn't possibly bear to divorce me."

I struggled, trying to reach for the divorce agreement on the cabinet, but he thought I was trying to escape.

He gripped me tighter, his tone laced with threat.

"Aren't you using your family's connections to find a way out for those useless friends of yours? Let me tell you, if you don't go, I'll make sure they're blacklisted from every garage in North America."

Thinking of the brothers who had been through hell and back with me, I admit, I wavered.

"I said," I hissed, "I'm not going."

Vito laughed, a sound of pure fury that didn't reach his eyes. "Fine. I look forward to seeing if you're still this stubborn in three days."

"Take my wife to the cellar," he said, his voice void of all emotion. "Lock her in. Let her cool off."

I was seized by two guards, my arms twisted behind my back, and dragged without any chance of resistance to the bone-chilling cellar deep within the estate.

The heavy iron door slammed shut. In the pitch-black silence, I finally broke down and cried.

I feared nothing in this world except the dark. My claustrophobia was so severe I couldn't sleep without a night light.

When we first got married, Vito discovered this fatal weakness of mine. I thought a man like him, forged in blood and chaos, would mock my weakness.

But he had held me tight, kissing my hair and swearing, "As long as you're here, I'll come home every night."

"With me here, you have nothing to fear."

And now, he was the one who had personally pushed me into this endless abyss of darkness.

Three days later, the iron door of the cellar groaned open.

I was hauled out like a rag doll and thrown at Isabella's feet.

Standing beside Isabella, Vito took in my wretched state. His brow furrowed, his heart clenching as if squeezed by an invisible hand.

"I only sent you down there to reflect for three days. How did you end up like this?"

Isabella guiltily averted her gaze, then clung to Vito's arm and whined, "Liliana is just putting on an act to avoid apologizing. She's really selling it, isn't she?"

The flicker of pity in Vito's eyes vanished, replaced by a cold resolve. "Liliana. Apologize."

I lay on the cold marble floor, a dry, rasping sound in my throat. I dug my fingers into the cracks between the tiles, holding on with my last ounce of strength, refusing to bow my head.

"Vito, why don't you wait outside? She might be too embarrassed to admit she's wrong in front of you."

Vito was silent for a moment, then nodded. Before leaving, he shot me a complicated look and closed the heavy oak door.

The moment we were alone, the innocent mask on Isabella's face fell away, revealing her true, ugly self.

She pulled a lighter from her purse and lit a thin cigar.

She walked over to me, grabbed my chin with the hand holding the cigar, and sneered viciously. "You bitch. A low-class wild child like you really thinks you can compete with me for Vito?"

"What's so great about you, anyway? Last night he was calling your name in his sleep... I'll make sure he loses all feeling for you, once and for all."

She brought the glowing tip of her cigar close to my cheek.

Her other hand slid across my face, her voice low but sending shivers down my spine. "Tell me," she whispered, her voice a venomous caress, "if I were to brand you right here, do you think Vito would feel even more pity for you?"

The moment she finished speaking, she hit send on her phone.

A few seconds later, the door was kicked open, and a group of menacing thugs stormed in.