Chapter 3

For days after the trial, I locked myself in my bedroom at the Rossi estate, refusing food or drink, consumed by grief and rage.

Diana's death and Vincent's betrayal weighed on me like twin mountains, crushing my breath.

The estate's staff tiptoed around me, their sympathetic glances fleeting as they delivered necessities.

That evening, the sunset's glow slipped through the curtain's gap, casting a long shadow across the floor.

I sat on the bed's edge, clutching Diana's photo, my tears long dried, leaving only a hollow ache.

A knock came at the door.

"Go away," I muttered weakly.

The door opened anyway. Vincent stepped inside.

He wore a black shirt, collar slightly unbuttoned, his face etched with fatigue.

This marked his first visit since the trial.

"Elena," he said, standing before me, voice low, "you can't keep doing this."

I ignored him, my eyes fixed on Diana's photo.

Vincent sighed and sat beside me. "I know you hate me. But I did this for us, for the Rossi family. The Visconti family is too powerful. We can't challenge them head-on."

"For us?" I lifted my gaze, my eyes dripping with scorn. "You did it for yourself, for Sophia, for your family's interests. Stop lying to yourself, Vincent."

His face darkened. "Believe it or not, that's the truth. Now, there's something you must do."

"I'm not doing anything," I said coldly.

"Oh, you will." Vincent pulled a document from his pocket and placed it before me. "This is an apology statement. You need to sign it."

I glanced at the paper. It stated I acknowledged Diana attacked Sophia due to mental instability, apologized for the trouble caused, and promised not to pursue the matter further.

"You want me to apologize to Diana's killer?" My body shook with fury. I flung the document to the floor. "Vincent, are you an animal?"

His eyes sharpened. "Elena, don't push me. If you don't sign, Sophia won't let this go. She'll sue you for defamation, and you'll not only face jail but drag the Rossi family down with you."

"I don't care!" I shouted. "I'd rather go to jail than apologize to that murderer!"

"Is that so?" Vincent stood, walked to the window, and turned his back to me. "Then you really don't care."

He pulled out his phone, opened a video, and handed it to me.

Puzzled, I took the phone. The screen showed a raging fire. Vincent's bodyguards surrounded Diana's flower shop, holding lit torches.

"What are you doing?" A sick dread gripped me.

"You already know, Elena." Vincent's eyes were ice as he stared at me. "Sophia thinks you need a lesson to behave."

"No, you can't!" I leapt up, nearly dropping the phone. "Vincent, that's Diana's shop-her only legacy to me."

"Then behave." His tone was flat, as if discussing something trivial. "Elena, you have two minutes to decide. Sign the statement, and I'll ensure Diana's shop stays safe. If you don't..." He pointed to the video. "You don't want her shop reduced to ashes, do you?"

"You bastard!" My body trembled, tears spilling again. "Vincent, how could you? That's my sister! How can you threaten me with her memory?"

"I have no choice." His voice held no guilt. "You brought this on yourself, Elena. Be good. Don't waste time."

He used to call me that with love. Now, it was all cold threat.

I stared at the video, the shop encircled, imagining Diana's years of hard work burning to nothing.

I couldn't get justice for her. How could I let her shop be destroyed?

"Vincent," my voice quaked, "how could you become this? You weren't like this before."

His eyes flickered, as if recalling something, but the coldness returned. "People change. Elena, one minute left."

I looked at him, the man I once loved, now using my deepest pain to control me.

Despair overwhelmed me, as if the world itself turned against me.

"Why?" Tears streaked my face. "Vincent, tell me why you're protecting Sophia. What did she do to you?"

He paused, then said, "Sophia's different. She saved my life, took a bullet for me. I owe her."

"So you sacrifice me and Diana for her?" I couldn't believe my ears. "Vincent, do you hear yourself?"

"I do." His voice carried a trace of weariness. "But I have to. Elena, sign it. I'm begging you."

Looking at his familiar face, I saw only a stranger.

The Vincent who'd once given up everything for me was gone.

In his place stood a man bound by family interests and some twisted debt of gratitude.

"Thirty seconds," Vincent warned.

I closed my eyes, tears falling silently.

For Diana's shop, I had no choice.

"Fine," I opened my eyes, voice hoarse. "I'll sign."

Vincent handed me a pen. My hand shook as I took it, signing the humiliating apology.

"Satisfied?" I threw the document at him. "Now get them away from Diana's shop!"

Vincent picked up the paper, glanced at it, and nodded. "I will."

His phone rang. It was Sophia. He answered, his tone softening instantly. "Hey, Sophia, what's wrong? ... Stomachache? Okay, I'm coming."

He hung up, glanced at me, said nothing, and hurried out.

I watched his retreating figure, collapsing to the floor, tears flooding again.

Vincent didn't just make me sign an apology. He ended everything between us.

From now on, only hatred remains.