Scarred, Shot, Still Standing

My mafia boyfriend, Silas Vale, didn’t recognize me when I dragged myself back to him after being tortured and shot by his rival gang.

He was too busy holding Amy—his childhood sweetheart—in his arms.

“Get this woman away from me,” he snapped at his guard. “Amy’s afraid of blood.”

I’d lost so much blood I genuinely thought I might die that night.

But luckily, a stranger passed by and rushed me to the hospital.

When I finally recovered enough to walk, I went home—only to find Silas there, completely unconcerned about the fact that I had disappeared for almost a week.

And Amy was there too. Her clothes were scattered across the floor.

I didn’t confront Silas or say anything. I just pulled out my phone and called my brother. “You said you are moving to Italy? I’m coming with you.”

If Silas couldn’t cherish me the way he was supposed to… then I’d vanish from his world for good this time.

Tessa’s POV

After I was shot by Silas Vale’s rival gang, I dragged myself to his casino, desperate and half‑bleeding out, hoping he’d help me.

Instead, I walked straight into Silas as he was hurrying out with his childhood sweetheart, Amy Calloway, in his arms.

He barely looked at me, “Get this bloody mess out of my casino. Don’t let my Amy see her—she’s scared of blood.”

So I was dumped in the back alley by his men like trash.

The bullet, the blood loss—everything was pulling me under. “Help… me…” I whispered, knowing no one would hear me.

Lucky for me, someone did show up. He got me to the hospital and saved my life.

I spent nearly a week at hospital. Silas didn’t once call me.

The day I was discharged, I returned to the home Silas and I shared.

The second I opened the door, I spotted a coat and jacket tossed carelessly over the sofa. A pair of pants lay crumpled on the floor beside a dress.

“Silas, I’m hungry,” Amy said as she padded out barefoot. She was wearing one of Silas’s shirts.

“Tessa! You’re back?” When Amy spotted me, she didn’t look surprised at all. She tugged her shirt collar wider, deliberately revealing fresh love bites.

A moment later, Silas stepped out behind her. “Amy was having those PTSD nightmares again,” he said, dodging my eyes, “So I brought her back to our house.”

Right. ‘Nightmares’ The kind where Amy cried into Silas’s chest and he decided the best cure was letting her sleep in our bed.

The old me would’ve asked Silas for explanations—if he was just taking care of her, then how did those love bites happen? I would’ve tried to make him see that this wasn’t appropriate at all.

But after everything that happened these past few days? All I wanted was to leave—this house, this relationship, this man—before he could take anything else from me.

“Alright,” I said quietly, then turned and walked to the guest bedroom.

Once