The Principessa's Vow of Ruin

I stepped out of the villa, hoping the evening breeze would clear my head.

The roses in the manor's garden were in full bloom, but in my memory, this place was nothing but a barren wasteland after being sold off for pennies on the dollar. After I died, Julian burned all my belongings and threw my father's heirlooms into the trash.

His devilish expression was seared into my mind.

"You old bastard, this is what you get for standing in my way! If it weren't for you, Chloe and I would be living happily ever after, not torn apart like this!"

Tears streamed down my face. I caressed the cold brick wall, letting the pain consume me.

Suddenly, I heard the idle chatter of gardeners from the shade of some nearby trees.

"That Thorne kid actually went to the Don tonight, demanding his mistress get a seat at the main table tomorrow."

"A seat at the main table? No, he wants her there as a second bride. The man wants to marry them both."

"That's outrageous! Who puts their fiancée and mistress at the main table together? Isn't he just spitting in the Principessa's face? And the Don's?"

"I heard the Thorne heir never wanted to marry the Principessa in the first place. She was the one who saw his family was going bankrupt and insisted on throwing herself at him. So much for being a mafia princess. Utterly shameless. She'll be fighting some whore over a man every day. I bet she'll have to get on her knees and beg for scraps of his attention."

Their words grew uglier, even imagining me licking Julian's leather shoes, begging for him to spare me a glance.

A wave of bitterness washed over me. So this was how low they thought I had sunk. But it was Julian who had pursued me first.

The Valerius and Thorne families had ties going back generations, their businesses deeply intertwined.

So, ever since we were children, Julian had always been my playmate.

Back then, he would sit beside me, carefully peeling apples for me.

He would wipe the chocolate sauce from the corner of my mouth and take me to Long Island to watch the sunrise over the sea.

When we grew up, he played the part of my guardian angel, chasing away every suitor who came near me.

I would pout and protest.

"Julian, you've scared them all away. What am I supposed to do now if I can't get married?"

He would sling an arm around my shoulders.

"You can only marry me. I won't let any other man near you."

Later, the year I got into Columbia, he booked an entire restaurant to celebrate my twenty-first birthday.

That day, under the brilliant crystal chandeliers, the young man's eyes blazed with a fierce intensity as he knelt on one knee and slid a ring onto my finger.

But all of that changed the moment he met my gallery assistant, Chloe Bennett—a girl who always seemed to be on the verge of tears.

His heart was completely captivated by Chloe's porcelain-doll fragility, as if she would shatter at the slightest touch. A single glistening teardrop poised on her long lashes was enough to send Julian's protective instincts into overdrive.

For Chloe, he forgot my birthday, all because she let out two soft coughs.

Worried that I might "bully" her, Julian bought her an apartment off-campus, giving her a "safe harbor" of her own.

It wasn't that I didn't throw fits or protest. But every time, I was met with the same line:

"I'm just taking care of her, that's all. Can you stop being so unreasonable?"

After countless arguments and hollow reconciliations, we finally hit a point of no return.

I heaved a long sigh. Just as I was turning to go back inside, Julian strode toward me from a distance, his face a mask of undisguised fury.