Reborn, Don’s Girlfriend Flees

When I opened my eyes again, the butler was at my side.

I developed a raging fever.

Seeing me awake, he smiled, pulled off the ice pack, and pressed a file folder into my palm.

"Principessa, it's done. The flight's in ten days. No one knows."

I nodded. I was about to open it when I heard footsteps outside.

I shoved the folder under my pillow fast.

It was Marco.

He leaned in, gently wiping the sweat from my brow.

A wave of warmth washed over me, and tears spilled over involuntarily, soaking into the handkerchief.

"Do you really believe I did it?"

Seeing my scalding tears, Marco seemed to be burned as well. His heart softened, and he coaxed me gently:

"Serana, don't throw a tantrum. I'll divorce her and marry you as my Donna. Trust me."

He sat by my bed, gentle as always, dabbing the sweat off my forehead with a cool cloth.

I remembered ten years ago. After my parents died, Marco was the one who protected me.

Everyone else just wanted the fortune the Moretti name left behind. Only he cared about me.

I was only ten. He knew I wouldn't survive the vultures circling the family.

So he built me a safe little world—ten years without a single worry.

But now, after everything that had happened, he still thought I was just throwing a tantrum.

My heart had ached to the point of total numbness. My voice was hoarse:

"Alright."

I’m leaving anyway.

Seeing my state, a flicker of heartache crossed Marco's eyes.

He opened his mouth to say something more, but was interrupted by Liliana, who had been waiting at the door.

"Darling, we need to go shoot the wedding photos. Serana will be fine. The butler will take good care of her."

Marco nodded.

I looked past him. Liliana was wearing that wedding dress. The one from the last century—the antique gown that once belonged to a princess.

I'd asked Marco to buy it for my eighteenth birthday. Told him I'd wear it when I walked down the aisle to him. Exchanged rings under the lights.

He'd held me close, laughing softly:

"I can't wait to see that, Serana. You'll look beautiful."

Now it belonged to his bride.

But it would never belong to me.

I watched them walk away, so perfect together.

Something hollowed out my chest. I couldn't breathe.

Even though I already knew everything, the grief still hit me hard.

He had promised that no one would ever hurt me again: "Serana, don't be afraid. With me here, no one will bully you."

A sickly flush crept onto my pale cheeks as I whispered:

"Liar... someone is hurting me now..."

Two days later, I could finally get out of bed. Marco visited often in those days—brought in the best surgeons, tended to me like I was made of glass.

He'd always been a good guardian.

Hearing the sound of a car downstairs, I originally didn't want to move.

But thinking that I would never see him again, I decided to go take a look.

I opened the door, only to be met by his dark, brooding gaze. Marco grabbed my arm.

"Serana, did you have someone run Liliana down?"

The blood instantly drained from my face. My heart was bleeding profusely.

But I defiantly lifted my gaze to meet his: “If I tell you it wasn't me, would you believe me?”

His expression softened slightly.

Turning to Liliana behind him, he said, "See? She said she didn't do it."

"Although Serana has been spoiled, she knows her boundaries. She wouldn't murder you."

"I believe Serana, of course, but..."

Liliana stepped up to me and pulled out her phone.

Unfamiliar voices spilled from the speaker, testifying that I had hired them to assassinate Liliana.

Hearing the recording, a chill crawled up my spine from the soles of my feet.

"The Associates confessed immediately. The voice on the phone was hers. They even provided bank transfer records."

"But I won't blame her. Thanks to you arriving in time, she only hurt her ankle. Just teach her a lesson so she learns to behave."

Marco's face darkened instantly, his voice turning to ice:

"Serana, this time you've truly gone too far."

"Darling, she just lacks a sense of security. I understand..."

"It's all my fault. If I had listened when Serana warned me not to attend the engagement party..."

It felt like I'd been struck over the head with a club. The world spun dizzily.

Once again, he was condemning me without seeking the truth. The rage I had been suppressing deep inside was completely ignited.

I lifted my chin, my voice dripping with sarcasm:

"If it were me, you know damn well, Cognato, she would've already been stripped naked and thrown into the sea to feed the fishes."

"I didn't do it, and that's a fact. I've already publicly accepted her as our Donna. What more do you want from me?"

I was shaking with fury, barely able to stand.

Liliana immediately stepped between us, supporting my body as tears streamed down her face:

"It's all my fault. My parents died to save you back then. Their only wish was for me to live in peace."

"Perhaps I shouldn't have been here."

Her tone was soft and pitiful, yet it successfully provoked Marco's wrath.

As expected, Marco's face darkened, his voice turning to ice:

"Liliana has been hurt by you so many times, yet she remains kind enough not to blame you. But you..."

"Serana, apologize to Lili."

"Impossible!” I fixed my gaze squarely on Marco, my voice firm. “I will never apologize for something I didn't do."

Liliana continued, sobbing: "It doesn't matter if she hurts me out of ignorance. But if she acts like this toward outsiders in the future, can you protect her forever? She needs to learn a lesson."

Marco fell silent, his expression turned grave. Finally, he nodded wearily.

"You're right. She needs to be taught a lesson so she learns to behave."

As Liliana spoke, she pulled out an object.

Seeing it, my pupils instantly contracted. My heart leaped into my throat.

"No..."

It was the family portrait of Mom, Dad, and me. I used to take it out and look at it all the time; it was my only spiritual anchor. How could he allow this...

"Burn it."

Liliana took the photograph, smiling softly as she spoke, shattering my heart into a million pieces.

My breath hitched, watching in horror as that tiny photograph dangled from her fingertips.

I desperate to snatch the photo back.

"No... please, don't. I'll apologize."

But Marco grabbed me from behind, pinning me against his chest, leaving me completely immobilized.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I'm guilty... please, don't..."

I was suddenly back there, standing at my parents' graves. Everyone was looking at me as if I were nothing but a piece of goods to be claimed.

Despair and terror made me lose my mind. I screamed, sobbing until my throat tore:

I watched Liliana hold the photograph, bringing it closer to the flames in the fireplace.

"NO——"