Where the Olive Trees Weep

Just then, Rosina answered a call, her voice sharp with annoyance. "So what if your tires are slashed? It's your problem if you can't get here. Why are you even driving, you old hag?"

She hung up, but I’d recognized the frantic voice on the other end.

It was Dorothy.

Rosina had made sure she couldn't get back. Dorothy was rushing home to cook for me. Even if she walked, carrying all the groceries, it would take her hours.

I was doomed.

Rosina crouched in front of me, her eyes glinting with malice.

"Look at what you've done to my man's estate. How should I punish you for that?"

One of her friends grabbed a bucket of bright green paint. She dumped the entire thing over my head.

"If she likes to paint so much, let's give her a real masterpiece! She's so pathetic for trying to copy you, Rosina!"

The other two women added their own cruel ideas. "Does she really need a man that badly? Why not just bring a few of the soldati up here to keep her company, keep her from obsessing over other people's boyfriends?"

"That would be too easy on her! She's gonna have to pay for all this damage. Maybe we should introduce her to a few clients. She's good at seducing men, so she might just make enough money to cover it."

Rosina’s eyes stayed fixed on my face, her rage building.

Suddenly, she stood and kicked me hard in the ribs.

"How dare you try to look like me! I think I'll just take that face back, don't you think?"

A sickening crack echoed as she broke my jaw. The pain made my head spin as their laughter rang in my ears.

"And she even copied Rosina's hairstyle! Cut it off!"

"Right! She even tried to wear a simple dress like Rosina. Let's take that off her!"

I fought back, but it was three against one. They held me down, punching and kicking until the world spun and my limbs went limp.

They tore my dress from my body, leaving me naked and exposed on the cold ground.

Finally, they pulled out their phones again, laughing as they filmed my helpless state.

Rosina wasn't done. She unpinned a sharp, ornate brooch from her dress. Her grin was pure menace as she advanced on me.

"I won't allow you to use this face to chase after my man. You only have yourself to blame for being so pathetic."

She was only with Oliver because of her face. She would eliminate any threat to her position.

Her lackeys laughed nervously. "Rosina, maybe that's enough. Don't make too much of a scene. This is Mr. Falcone's estate, after all. It could cause problems for him."

Rosina scoffed. "What's the big deal? He'll take responsibility for whatever happens. It's not like I'm killing her; I'm just ruining her face! If he comes back and sees what she's done to the house, he might make things worse for her."

Reassured, the three of them pinned my arms and legs to the ground. I felt the sharp point of the brooch slice across my face. I screamed in agony. They only laughed harder at my suffering.

When the torture finally stopped, my throat was raw. I lay on the ground, too weak to even make a sound.

Rosina's eyes gleamed. "She needs a real lesson, or everyone will start copying her. I might lose my position as the future Mrs. Falcone! Since you love to imitate me so much, I'll make sure you can't anymore!"

She grabbed my hand, then picked up a small hammer from a nearby toolbox. With a wicked smile, she brought the hammer down on my wrist. Then the other.

"This is all your fault for being so greedy. Don't blame me if you can't paint anymore!"

By the time both my wrists were shattered, I couldn’t even scream.

Just as the pain threatened to pull me into unconsciousness, a car screeched to a halt. Oliver was here.

He stood frozen, his face a mask of pale fury as he took in the carnage. "What the hell are you doing? Who gave you permission to come here?"