I Won't Let You Go, Even In Death

The girl's name was Rizza.

When I tried to dig deeper into her background, I found nothing. Niccolo had erased every trace of her. If I hadn't moved fast, I wouldn't have even learned her name.

I confronted him. "So you like her that much? You've even sealed off her information from me?"

He sighed. "Maureen, what's the point of holding onto this?"

I slammed the divorce papers in front of him again. "Sign it, and I won't have a reason to hold on anymore."

The papers barely lasted two seconds in his hands before he ripped them to shreds.

With a flick of his wrist, the fragments scattered across the floor.

"I told you—between us, there's no divorce. Only death."

I laughed.

And the next second, a bottle smashed against his head.

Red liquid streamed down his face—I couldn't tell if it was wine or blood.

I grabbed the knife from the table and drove it forward.

He caught my wrist mid-strike, locking us in a deadly standoff.

"Niccolo." Our faces were less than an inch apart. "Do you really think I won't do it?"

Our hands trembled, neither yielding.

"Divorce," I hissed, "or one of us dies tonight."

The stalemate lasted only seconds. Then, with a soft laugh, he shifted his strength—guiding the blade into himself.

Pinned by his grip, I watched as the knife buried deep into his shoulder.

Blood splattered across my face.

"I told you," he whispered hoarsely, "I won't let you die before me."

"Niccolo!"

Grinding my teeth, I yanked the knife out.

He groaned, blood soaking us both, but when he looked at me, his eyes held only the same unwavering tenderness I remembered from years ago.

The coppery scent of blood dragged me back to that rain-soaked night in our final year of high school—when my father beat me half to death in the street.

I had collapsed then too, and it was Niccolo who caught me, who shielded me with his own body.

"Don't be afraid. It's okay. I'm here."

Even as glass bottles, chairs, and knives rained down on him, he grinned through the pain and said those same words.

We had once embraced in blood. Kissed in the storm.

But when love rots to its core, betrayal becomes monstrous.

I shoved him away. "Don't touch me."

Stumbling, I left that blood-soaked room behind.

For a while, we lived apart in uneasy silence.

He still protected the girl so carefully that I couldn't uncover a single trace.

But youth was impatient. Rizza eventually came to me herself.

"Have you been looking for him lately? Let me save you the trouble—he's with me."

She was dressed in haute couture, her expression smug. "You thought getting rid of my child solved everything?"

She leaned closer, a smirk curling her lips. "As long as his love belongs to me, it doesn't matter how many children I lose. He'll only love me more because of it. In fact, he's been trying even harder lately. I should thank you, sister, for helping me."

Her plunging blouse revealed a flawless neck and the swell of her chest—marred by countless kiss marks, flaunting how completely Niccolo had adored her.

She pressed a hand to her still-flat belly, pride radiating from her. "Too bad. I'm pregnant again."

I calmly sipped my coffee as she made herself comfortable on my custom-made sofa, resting her chin in her hands.

"They say you've been married for three years and still haven't given him a child. The one time you did..." She chuckled.

"Ha! You couldn't even keep it. Sometimes, you really can't blame men."

The crisp clink of porcelain on wood echoed in the room, followed by her scream.

The bodyguards stared silently as Rizza writhed on the floor, clutching her stomach as blood pooled beneath her.

"Maureen! You'll die for this!"

Her shrieks filled the air as the guards dragged her away.

"You're not afraid of Nico's revenge?"

My fingers tapped lightly against the marble tabletop. My voice was calm and steady. "You should know—becoming Mrs. Morales isn't about a man's love. That alone will never be enough."