Chapter 4

Valentina’s POV

Three days had passed since Vina took the punishment meant for Alexander—the punishment I had delivered myself. Yet somehow, she had turned the entire incident to her advantage, leaving me looking like the villain while Alexander stood at her side.

Something else had been bothering me.

The wound on my shoulder should have taken weeks to heal, especially after being cut with a blade coated in the same poison used by the city's most notorious assassins. Instead, the deep gash had closed within days, leaving barely a scar.

I told no one.

Not my father, not the family's doctors, and certainly not Alexander. Something was wrong with me, and I had no intention of letting anyone in the Aethon family know until I understood what it was.

So I drove to the old Saint Aurelia Monastery, a secluded sanctuary once used by the city's wealthiest families when they needed discreet medical treatment or spiritual counsel. The monastery stood behind towering stone walls, far from the cameras and gunmen that surrounded the city.

As I stepped out of my car, an elderly woman appeared near the gates. She wore a long gray cloak, and there was something unsettling about the way she watched me.

“Child,” she called.

I stopped.

“Beware. You have been noticed by people who do not forgive.”

I frowned. “Who are you?”

She reached for my hand, her fingers surprisingly cold.

“You carry something they want. The moment they tasted your blood, they knew.”

I instinctively pulled away.

“What are you talking about?”

Her eyes seemed to look straight through me.

“Danger follows your family, Valentina Aethon. When the shadows come for you, remember that not every enemy will carry a gun.”

Before I could ask another question, she disappeared through the trees.

Uneasy, I turned toward the monastery.

I never reached the door.

Something struck the back of my head, and the world disappeared.

**

When I woke, my wrists were bound tightly behind a metal chair. A strip of cloth covered my eyes, while the smell of blood, sweat, and gasoline filled the room.

Pain burned through my body.

Someone had been cutting me.

Again and again.

By the time I lost count, I could barely keep my head upright.

“You shouldn't have punished her,” a man's voice said somewhere behind me. His voice was rough, almost amused. “She's valuable. You offended the wrong family.”

I swallowed blood.

“Who... are you?”

He ignored the question and pulled out his phone.

“She won't last much longer,” he said.

Then I heard the voice on the other end.

“Leave her.”

My entire body went cold.

Alexander.

I knew that voice anywhere.

He had ordered them to stop.

The man cut the call and left me there, bleeding on the concrete floor.

The same man who had sworn to protect my life had just decided that my life wasn't worth saving.

Hours later, they dumped me beside a deserted road.

I barely managed to crawl far enough to flag down a taxi. The driver nearly sped away when he saw the blood covering my clothes, but I forced the door open.

“Hospital,” I rasped.

He stared at me in horror.

“Now.”

**

At the hospital, I lay beneath harsh fluorescent lights while nurses rushed around me. The antiseptic smell made my stomach churn, but what caught my attention were two nurses whispering near the station.

“Did you see the man who brought that girl in?”

“The handsome one?”

“He stayed beside another woman the entire time. He even held her hand.”

“And the injured girl?”

“Poor thing looked like she had been tortured.”

I ripped the IV from my arm.

I already knew.

I stumbled into the corridor and saw Alexander.

And Vina.

He was holding her hand, speaking quietly while she cried against his shoulder.

I didn't let either of them see me.

I turned around and walked out of the hospital.

Whatever was left of my heart went with me.

**

The following day, Alexander came to my house.

He stood outside my bedroom for several minutes before finally entering. His expression was difficult to read, but there was something that looked suspiciously like guilt in his eyes.

I said nothing.

I didn't ask why he had abandoned me.

I didn't slap him.

I didn't even demand an explanation.

Before he could speak, my phone rang.

My father's name appeared on the screen.

“You're attending the art banquet tonight,” Vittorio ordered.

“I won't.”

“Vina's exhibition is being attended by every major family in the city. You will be there.”

I closed my eyes.

Art had once been the only thing that belonged to me.

Until Vina stole that too.

We had both studied painting years ago. She had taken one of my pieces, presented it as her own, then accused me of copying her when I confronted her. My father believed her. Everyone did.

I had never picked up a brush again.

“You will attend,” my father repeated.

Before I could argue, Alexander stepped closer.

“It's Vina's exhibition,” he said quietly. “Just go. For me.”

I looked at him.

For her, you mean.

Still, I agreed.

It would be the last time.

**

The Luna Gallery glittered beneath crystal chandeliers and polished marble, filled with politicians, businessmen, heirs, and representatives of the city's most powerful families.

Vina stood in the center of it all, dressed in white and surrounded by admirers.

I stayed near the back in a deep crimson dress.

Then I saw the paintings.

My breath stopped.

Every piece displayed across the gallery was mine.

Not copies.

Mine.

I knew every brushstroke, every deliberate imperfection, every color I had mixed by hand. Those paintings had been stored in the attic of our old family estate.

Vina had stolen them.

She was standing beneath my work, accepting praise for something she had never created.

My hands curled into fists.

Then the gallery doors opened.

A procession of men entered carrying designer gowns, jewelry cases, rare handbags, and boxes of imported art supplies.

Alexander's associate placed everything before Vina.

“These are from the Laurent family,” he announced. “Their boss instructed us to provide Miss Vina with whatever she desires.”

Whispers swept through the room.

The Laurent family was one of the most feared criminal organizations in the country. Their boss never appeared in public, but his influence reached into every major port, casino, and weapons route in the city.

And apparently, he wanted Vina.

I walked outside before anyone could see what was happening to my face.

Vina followed.

“Still breathing?” she asked softly.

I turned.

She smiled.

“It's a shame your mother isn't here to see this.”

My blood ran cold.

“Vina—”

She suddenly poured wine over herself and screamed.

“Valentina! Why would you do that?”

The gallery doors flew open.

Alexander appeared.

He looked at me as though I had committed some unforgivable crime.

“Enough!”

Something inside me finally broke.

I picked up my own glass and threw the wine directly into Vina's face.

“This one was actually me,” I said coldly. “That's for mocking my mother, you lying parasite.”

Gasps erupted behind us.

I walked away.

Alexander caught my arm.

“Why do you always attack her?”

I ripped myself free.

“You want to know why? She destroyed my family, framed me, stole my paintings, and now she's taking you from me while you stand there pretending not to notice.”

His expression hardened.

“You're lying.”

I laughed bitterly.

“Of course you believe her.”

I stepped away.

“Take your space, Alexander. I'm finished giving you chances.”

**

Later that night, I watched from the back seat of a taxi as Alexander drove away from the gallery with Vina beside him.

“Follow them.”

The driver hesitated.

“Miss—”

“Just follow them.”

They eventually stopped outside an abandoned botanical conservatory overlooking the river.

I watched from the darkness as they entered.

Through the glass, Vina stepped close to Alexander.

Then she pressed her lips against his neck.

It wasn't affectionate.

It was possessive.

Alexander didn't push her away. Instead, he tilted his head, allowing her to leave a deliberate mark against his skin.

My chest tightened.

Vina stepped back, smiling.

Alexander touched the wound at his neck and looked at her with an expression filled with devotion.

“I’m yours,” he whispered.

I sat frozen in the taxi, watching the man I had loved give himself willingly to the woman who had stolen everything from me.

And for the first time, I felt nothing.

No jealousy.

No anger.

Only the cold certainty that whatever happened next, Valentina Aethon was no longer going to play by their rules.