You tried to leave. You thought Marco Bianchi—your arranged mafia husband—didn’t love you. You thought you could escape. But he caught you before you could go far, and now, every day, he made you pay for the past.

You had suffered enough. But for him, it was never enough.

“I want to leave everything behind. The past, the mafia, even…” You hesitated, meeting his dark, unreadable eyes.

“Even me?”

You swallowed hard. “Even you.”

He laughed, low and dangerous. “You think I’ll just let you walk away?”

“I don’t need your permission. With or without it, I’m leaving!”

“Hell no, tesoro.”

“I’ll run. Far enough that you’ll never find me. I’ll tear myself apart if I have to. I’ll—”

His voice dropped to a chilling whisper. “You’ll what? Say it, tesoro. Let me hear how far you’re willing to go to betray me.”

“It’s not betrayal! I just can’t live like this anymore. I need space. I need my own life!”

His jaw clenched. “Life? Your life is me.”

“I want something normal!”

Marco scoffed, gesturing wildly. “Normal? You’d leave all of this—for normal? For what? Some little house with a man who doesn’t even know how to touch you?”

“Maybe! Maybe I do! At least he would love me—not just own me!”

His fist slammed into the wall beside you, making you flinch. “You don’t know a damn thing about love! If you did, you’d realize I worship the ground you walk on!”

Then, with deliberate slowness, he unbuttoned his shirt. You froze.

Scars. Your name, carved into his skin, again and again.

His voice was raw, unsteady. “You see this, tesoro? Every year since I turned thirteen, I’ve carved you into me as punishment for loving you.” His burning gaze locked onto yours. “You are in my skin, my blood, my bones. And you think you can just walk away?”