I Paid in Blood, He Paid in Regret

While I try on various wedding rings, my fiance, Don Demetrio Farese, who has tagged along, suddenly snatches the ring from my fingertip.

"You already lost a finger, Lucia. The ring will look ugly on you. Carlotta, on the other hand, looks beautiful with a ring on her finger."

Then, Demetrio fishes out a photo featuring him sinking down on one knee while sliding a ring onto Carlotta Rini's finger.

My chest tightens. "What are you trying to say?"

"Let Carlotta wear the wedding ring. You've already lost a finger anyway—you don’t need it."

Pain slowly spreads from my chest to the rest of my body. For a moment, I almost lose my balance.

The truth is, Demetrio's mortal enemy is the one who severed my finger by shooting at it. Back then, I only got shot because I had shielded Demetrio from the bullet.

"You were with Carlotta during our engagement ceremony, weren't you?" I demanded while staring at Demetrio Farese.

He nodded, his expression showing no guilt. If anything, there was a look of relief on it.

"When I put the ring on your finger, I was just thinking how ugly your hands were. They didn't deserve a ring like that. Carlotta asked me to help her pick out a manicure style, so I just made up some excuse and left."

My heart skipped a beat, like someone had gripped it hard. But memories flooded back at that very moment.

On the day of the engagement, halfway through the ceremony, Demetrio's phone buzzed. As he looked at it, his face turned pale.

Then, he looked at me with just the right amount of guilt in his eyes and said, "There's a serious issue with the west trade route. I need to handle it personally."

I should've known something was off. That route had been a legitimate business for years. There was no way it would go wrong.

Back then, I still tried to cover for him with a smile, saying, "Family comes first."

I was left alone to face Demetrio's parents, along with the Dons and Madres of the mafia families who were present.

I walked around the crowd with a glass of wine in my hand. But my mind was wandering with worry, wondering if Demetrio would be in danger.

As the engagement ceremony was nearing its end, everyone was invited on stage for a group photo. I stood at the front, but Demetrio's spot beside me remained empty.

His mother, Ella Toriello, looked clearly displeased.

"He's not even here for the engagement photo? What will people think?" Ella muttered, about to dial Demetrio's number.

A stinging pain flared across my face. I could barely keep my head up. All I could do was explain quietly, "There's a family emergency. I told him to leave first."

Ella froze for a moment, and then her gaze softened with pity.

The guests looked at me like I was a fool trying to kid myself. But I chose to trust