A Principessa's Ledger of Vengeance

After hanging up, I forced myself toward the lounge area.

There was a sofa there. If I could just sit down, maybe I could hold on until my grandfather's men arrived.

The sofa was only a hundred meters away, but it felt like I had been crawling for an eternity.

Just as my fingers brushed the edge of the sofa, I was violently shoved away.

I collapsed, the agony from my gunshot wound tearing through me as if my insides were being shredded. I curled into a ball on the floor, a cold sweat soaking through my clothes.

A familiar voice cried out with feigned surprise. "Oh, I'm so sorry! Alessia, I didn't see you!"

That voice. I would never forget it, not in two lifetimes.

It was Marco's beloved, Isabella.

I looked up at her through eyes blurred with tears and sweat.

She was leaning on someone's arm, her eyes glinting with triumph as she shot me a provocative look.

And the person supporting her was none other than Marco.

My nemesis. We meet again.

An overwhelming wave of hatred churned inside me.

I would never forget him shooting me with the bullet engraved with our daughter's name. I would never forget his endless insults. "Useless woman! You should have died long ago..."

The mental torment and physical abuse had been unbearable, an agony a thousand times more intense than this gunshot wound. My heart had been shredded by his dagger.

In his crazed fury, he hadn't even spared our three-year-old daughter.

Before I drew my last breath, he had killed our daughter, Sofia Moretti, right in front of me.

Sofia was only three. So small.

She had begged him, "Papa, please don't kill me!"

Marco had shown no mercy, cursing as he did it. "You little bastard! If it weren't for you, I never would have married your mother! Isabella wouldn't have died!"

The memory, the raw hatred, ripped a scream from my throat. "You traitor!"

Marco slapped me hard across the face. "You psycho! What the hell are you screaming about?" "You've made a fool of yourself faking it in the clinic. Now you're playing crazy? Fine, I'll send you where you belong!"

With that, he started to drag me like a sack of garbage, intending to throw me out.

Pain ripped another desperate scream from me.

"Help! Someone, help me! The Underboss—he's trying to kill me! He's a traitor! He's murdering the Don's granddaughter for an outsider! If I die, you all saw it! You'll answer to Don Vincenzo!"

I was deliberately making a scene.

The clinic was full of Family members, and I was sure some of them still feared the Don's authority.

Marco might have paid off the doctors and guards, but the other men here were neutral.

I couldn't accuse Marco of crimes from a past life; no one would believe me.

But his abuse of me now, after I'd taken a bullet for the Family, was tantamount to murder and betrayal.

Sure enough, my desperate accusations made people stare, their expressions conflicted. Some had already quietly taken out their phones.

Seeing I had gotten through to them, I pleaded, "I'm begging you, find Don Vincenzo. I've been shot. I'm dying!"

Just as the tension was about to snap, Marco suddenly helped me up.

He calmly explained to the crowd, "I'm sorry, my wife is a bit disturbed. I'll take her to rest now."

Then he dragged me into an empty hallway and squeezed my throat. "You bitch! Are you trying to ruin me?"

Wincing, I forced my gaze upward to the hidden camera on the ceiling. A weak, mocking smile touched my lips.

"Marco, you know I'm critical. If I die here, you won't escape it. The security camera recorded you assaulting me. Are you ready to face the Family's judgment? Are you willing to lose your precious Isabella for this? Even if I die, I'll just be reborn. But that little black book of yours won't be so lucky."

His eyes widened. "How do you know about the ledger? Tell me! How?"