Page 135 of Cruel Deception
Twenty days later.
From that second day, when she sat before Luca at the dining room of the Moretti penthouse, and I saw her as I walked in—Luca’s fiancée then—I forgot how to breathe.
And then I remembered everything I was supposed to hate.
She had her mother’s mouth.
Her mother’s eyes.
The same delicate bones Seraphina used to sharpen cruelty into elegance.
I wanted to ruin her.
Not because she deserved it.
But because she existed.
Because the blood in her veins came from the woman who chained my mother like an animal, who forced me to kneel in a corner and watch as Matteo raped her.
Because she smiled so softly and knew nothing of what her last name did to me.
I wanted her to pay.
For the sins. For the silence.
For the way my mother bled in front of me and Seraphina only whispered, “Watch, boy.”
That day, I stood in the dark, fists clenched, watching her silhouette behind the curtain.
And all I could think was:make her hurt like I hurt.
But I never expected to love her.
Her fire.
Her defiance.
Her silence that screamed louder than any threat.
Even her scars—they undid me.
They reminded me of mine.
She burned through the rage I’d spent years perfecting, cracked through walls I swore no one would ever touch again.
And I fell.
Hard.
Deep.
Obsessed.
I love her so much I can’t breathe in her absence.
Every second without her feels like drowning in a world made of knives.
My chest is a locked cage—no key, no mercy.
