After the Ninety-Ninth Fire

I instinctively tried to pull away, but Vincent gripped my wrist so tightly it felt like he might crush my bones.

"Elara, do you really think you can get away?"

"I wasn't going to make this hard on you, but you just don't know when to quit."

I stared directly into Vincent's eyes, and in their dark depths, I saw the ghost of our past.

After cutting ties with the Falcone family, Vincent lost all his financial support.

I used all my savings to pay six months' rent, and we promised to work hard together to build a life of our own.

Back then, love was all we needed. We had the purest hopes for our future, for our love.

But Vincent couldn't shake off his life of privilege; he simply couldn't endure a life of poverty.

I had to work three jobs just to make ends meet, but even so, I never once complained.

I once deeply believed that love could conquer all.

Back then, we'd share a single bowl of pasta, so poor we could only afford the cheapest canned food to fill our stomachs.

In the beginning, he would hold me and say, "Elara, as long as I'm with you, I don't care if I lose everything."

"Elara, I love you so much."

But as I got busier and he became more idle, he started to complain, to argue. And after the fights, he would hold me and beg me to forgive him.

He postponed our wedding ninety-eight times with all sorts of excuses, and yet I still made excuses for him, not knowing that he already saw me as a stumbling block to his return to the family.

"Yes, I must have been blind to have fallen for you," I said flatly, my voice devoid of emotion.

"I bet she's faking it with a pillow! If she were really pregnant, would she be parading around like this?"

With that, Isabella picked up her wine glass and threw its entire contents at me.

The red wine soaked through my only dress, chilling me to the bone.

Isabella lifted her skirt, shrieking as she jumped back, as if I were covered in something filthy.

Her face was a mask of disgust, as if she wanted to rush over and tear me to shreds.

Looking at the wine stain on my dress, I seethed with anger, cursing that bastard Dante a thousand times over in my head.

If he hadn't insisted I come to this wedding to watch the show, why would I be here suffering this humiliation!

I glanced toward the entrance again. The person who said he would pick me up was still nowhere to be seen.

I pressed my temples and silently rolled my eyes.

"Vincent, she ruined my dress!"

Isabella tugged at Vincent, exasperated. "This is the gown you picked out for me yourself!"

Only then did I notice that beneath the family crest tattooed on Vincent's wrist, there was now a new, cursive letter "I."

In my past life, he had promised to tattoo an "E" for me there. Now, everything had changed.

My eyes began to sting uncontrollably. I couldn't watch this scene any longer.

Vincent looked down and chuckled softly.

"You said I couldn't forget her, didn't you? I'll prove it to you right now."

"Guards! Hold her down. Make her kneel and apologize to Isabella!"

Standing in the crowd, a buzzing exploded in my ears.

Bodyguards closed in from either side, pinning my arms and forcing me to my knees.

The baby in my womb seemed to sense my distress and began to stir violently.