His to Lose

I slowly lifted my head, my gaze looking past the blood between my fingers, and stared at his face, which was written all over with impatience and disgust. The last shred of the warm illusion of being "childhood sweethearts" in my heart was thoroughly shattered by his own hands.

In Dante's eyes, everything about the Moretti family, including my feelings, was nothing but cheap goods piled up with blood-stained cash.

I didn't cry. I didn't even frown.

Under everyone's gaze, I simply used my slightly trembling hands to pick up the dusty emerald fragments, piece by piece.

Then, I walked around them and stepped into the shadows without looking back.

From that moment on, I knew I was completely free.

Over the next few days, I began to methodically sever all my ties with this underworld empire.

The three custom Ferraris my father gave me, the sets of Van Cleef & Arpels jewelry in the safe, and those limited-edition handbags that symbolized the status of "Miss Moretti"—I sent them all to the underground auction house to be cashed out.

After tens of millions of dollars hit my account, I used an anonymous account to transfer all of it into the Moretti Group's secret medical charity fund.

However, Dante somehow caught wind of it.

He thought I was playing some hard-to-get game again and stormed onto my private terrace in a rage.

"Sophia! What the hell are you trying to do?"

He blocked me against the railing, breathing heavily, fire burning in his eyes.

"Selling off all your assets and then donating money anonymously... Do you think playing this 'saint act' will move me? Do you think it proves you're nobler than Elena?"

"Let me tell you, even if you donated the entire Moretti family vault, a killer's blood still runs in your veins! You don't even compare to a single strand of Elena's hair!"

I didn't stop organizing the documents in my hands. I didn't even look at him.

But he suddenly grabbed my arm and slammed me against the cold stone pillar, his grip strong enough to almost crush my bones.

"Doesn't your Moretti family just want to use me to whitewash your reputation so those old-money tycoons will accept you?"

He leaned close to my ear, his tone low and filled with humiliation.

"Too bad, Sophia. The smell of blood doesn't wash off. You make me sick."

In my past life, he used words like these to torture my heart countless times.

But right now, I just raised my eyes, looked calmly at this man I once loved more than life itself, and gave him a professional smile.

"Mr. Dante."

I gently, without any lingering attachment, broke free from his grip and smoothed the wrinkles on my silk shirt.

"You're right."

"I really shouldn't use the family's 'blood money' to taint those truly pure souls."

Watching his expression stiffen instantly at my cold address, I continued unhurriedly:

"So I decided to go see hell for myself. To do something actually meaningful."

Before he could react, I walked straight past him.

Dante obviously didn't catch my drift.

In his logic filled with prejudice, I was doing all this just to get attention, to make him, the "family successor," change his mind.

To counter my "show," he started spoiling Elena even more aggressively.

The next day, Elena appeared in front of me wearing an exquisite cross necklace.

It was the only keepsake Dante's mother had left before she died.

She had the look of a victor on her face, her fingertips gently caressing the necklace.

"Dante gave this to me. He said only a girl with clean hands and a pure soul like me deserves to be his bride."

I didn't even lift my eyelids. I turned a page of the medical report, my voice cold and flat.

"Congrats. It suits your skin tone."