Chapter 3

• 【Alana’s POV】
• The next morning, I opened my eyes. My body felt like it had been run over by a heavy truck, every bone aching—
• especially... in certain places, it was burning with pain.
• But my mind was unusually clear—clear enough to hear the steady breathing of the man beside me.
• I carefully moved my body, trying not to disturb him.
• The events of last night played back in my mind like a crazy movie.
• I got up with my sore body and walked barefoot to the bathroom.
• In the mirror, I saw tear stains still wet at the corners of my eyes, swollen lips, and bruises of varying depths on my neck and collarbone—like marks left by a beast.
• But it wasn’t enough.
• I gritted my teeth and used my nails to fiercely scratch several long, red marks on my fair arms—just enough to draw blood and make it look raw and painful.
• Then I messed up my hair even more, splashed cold water on my cheeks, and made my face look pale and helpless.
• I returned to bed, lying back down.
• It was almost time.
• I let out a very soft, pain-suppressed moan.
• The man beside me stirred.
• I could feel his breath hitch as he sat up abruptly, hungover and confused.
• “Alana?” His voice was hoarse.
• I slowly opened my eyes, staring blankly at the ceiling.
• I seemed to have just noticed his presence. My body suddenly shrank, grabbing the blanket tightly around me, my eyes filled with fear and... accusation.
• “Don’t… don’t touch me.” My voice trembled, each word squeezed out from between my teeth.
• Dante looked at me, then at the messy bed and clothes on the floor—memories of last night clearly coming back to him.
• “I…” He opened his mouth, as if wanting to say something, but couldn’t get a word out.
• In the end, he just growled softly, uttering those three words.
• “I’m so sorry.”
• I didn’t respond—just buried my head in my knees, my shoulders uncontrollably shaking, letting out suppressed sobs.
• Of course, I wasn’t really crying.
• Tears are the cheapest thing in this world, but at this moment, they were the most useful weapon.
• “I will take responsibility for you.” Dante’s voice lowered. “I will talk to Leo about it.”
• “No!” I raised my head abruptly, eyes filled with pleading.
• “Please! Please, Mr. Moretti, don’t tell Leo… He will hate me! He’ll think I… am dirty.”
• The word dirty was emphasized.
• Dante looked at me, guilt almost overflowing in his eyes.
• “This is not your fault.” His tone softened slightly, with a clumsy attempt at comfort.
• “It’s me… I drank too much.”
• I sneered inwardly.
• Drank too much? If it weren’t for my little addition, how could this old fox lose control so easily?
• But on the surface, I was just a helpless girl, violated by an elder—panicking.
• “Let’s pretend this never happened, okay?” I sobbed, pleading with him.
• “I… I am still Leo’s fiancée. I don’t want to lose him. Please.”
• The more “mature” and “accommodating” I acted, the more guilty he would feel.
• He remained silent for a long time, his gaze complex as he stared at me.
• “I won’t let you suffer in vain.” He finally spoke, his tone firm.
• “Tell me, what compensation do you want?”
• Here it comes. I was waiting for this line. But I knew it was not the right time yet.
• I raised my head abruptly.
• No longer fear in my eyes—only the stubbornness and anger of a girl who’d just been insulted.
• “Compensation?” I sneered coldly, my voice low but piercing like an ice pick.
• “Mr. Moretti, what do you take me for? A prostitute you can buy off with money?”
• I looked at him, saying each word deliberately.
• “I want nothing. I just hope that you can forget everything that happened last night.”
• With that, I threw off the blanket, ignoring the pain in my body.
• I clumsily picked up the torn dress from the floor, put it on haphazardly, and stormed out of the study without looking back.
• I knew that my defiant attitude would be more stimulating to him than any drug.
• The door slammed shut with a loud “bang.”
• I remembered his touch from last night, and a strange feeling rose in my heart.
• I wanted him to truly desire me—not because he had too much to drink, or because I drugged him, but out of a man’s most primal possessiveness toward a woman.
• I had to make him believe that all my sadness and vulnerability were because I loved his son Leo too much, and valued this marriage too highly.
• He would pity me, feel sorry for me—
• And over time, this pity and sorrow would slowly turn sour.
• When he sees me forcing a smile next to Leo, sensing the sadness in my eyes, and recalling the chaos in the study that night… and the self-inflicted cuts on my arm—
• He will fall into an unsolvable dilemma.
• He will desperately try to figure out what is wrong with him, try to find a reason for this forbidden feeling—Only to sink deeper and deeper.
• I want him to fall into it knowingly.
• To make him realize: the woman he wants to touch is his son’s future wife.
• Until the end, when he can no longer deceive himself, can no longer hide—And finally admits defeat—His feelings for me.