Chapter 7

The Bridgestone Farshyan restaurant was undeniably authentic, and the river view from the 88th floor was breathtaking as well. However, the food tasted bland as Carmen watched Claudio, who was distracted, restless, and constantly checking his phone. She knew that he was waiting for Rosalia's text. After all, Rosalia was his wife. When the familiar ringtone echoed in the air, he hurriedly answered it. He had always been confident and meticulous. At this moment, however, he accidentally turned on the speaker. Rosalia's trembling voice was filled with despair as she spoke. "I got arrested, and I have no idea where I'm going. But maybe it's for the best. "Ms. Whitman doesn't like me. If I'm gone, you two will be able to stay together..." Rosalia let out a yelp when the call ended abruptly. Claudio tried calling her back, but it wouldn't connect, no matter how many times he did it. Fighting off the growing sense of unease in his heart, he spoke as calmly as possible. "Carmy, where did you take her? I can help you with it if you want to lash out at her. There's no need to do it yourself." "I told you." Carmen put her fork down. "I didn't do anything to her." At the next moment, her wrist was clutched tightly. "Rosie has depression. She can't take these tortures!" Claudio was pissed off, and his tone was cold and cutting. "Carmy, cut it out. You might've lost your right hand, but she has lost too much. Stop pestering her and let her go, will you?" Carmen was immediately stunned, her eyes slowly reddening. What did he mean when he said Rosalia had lost too much? Rosalia had chopped off Carmen's right hand, and yet she didn't even have to be put behind bars, all because he protected her. She was in love with him, and she got her wish by becoming his wife. After living a comfortable life for three long years, Rosalia finally regained her freedom recently. So, who really deserved his pity here? Who in the world was the one that just wouldn't let go? Carmen fought her tears back. When she spoke again, she enunciated each word, "I said I didn't do it. Also, this might've been a prosthetic hand, but it hurts all the same." Only then did Claudio realize that her wrist had turned red where he was holding it. He hurriedly let go and softened his tone as he spoke. "I'm sorry, Carmy. I was just worried that you act impulsively and do something you might regret. Anyway, where's the ring I gave you? Why aren't you wearing it?" It was absurd and ironic. Claudio was the one who said he wanted to know what she was up to all the time, but he didn't even realize he had given her the wrong ring. "You gave me yours, and it didn't fit. So, I've tucked it away." Claudio was stunned momentarily before he said tenderly, "We'll swap the rings once we get home." After that, he didn't bring up Rosalia again. It was as if she was someone unimportant to him. Three days later, Claudio received a call in the middle of the night and immediately rushed to the door. He was already holding the doorknob when he suddenly sensed something. Turning around, he looked at Carmen, and he couldn't help but freeze. Her gaze was very calm and steady. Not only did she not ask about why he was going out in the middle of the night, but there wasn't even a hint of reluctance in her eyes, almost as if he didn't matter to her at all. Claudio panicked, and he almost decided to stay, but his phone rang at that very moment. At this point, he couldn't care about anything else. He made up an excuse about his work before storming out of the villa. He didn't return home for the rest of the night. All Carmen got was a brief text. "Carmy, I have to work overnight, and I won't be coming home tonight. Don't wait for me. I love you to bits." With a nonchalant flick, she turned the screen off, his hypocritical catchphrase fading into nothing. The next morning, a maid told Carmen that someone was looking for her. She had just walked out of the villa when someone clubbed her on the back of her head, knocking her unconscious. When she woke up once more, she found herself tied up in a room at the nightclub. Her mouth was taped shut, and she was wearing a traditional dress with a mask—the same outfit Rosalia had worn that day. Meanwhile, her waist-length hair, which was Claudio's favorite, had been hacked unevenly, barely reaching past her ear. The door suddenly swung opened, and Claudio's low, deep voice echoed in the air. "Honey, is this the woman who locked you up in the nightclub and tortured you for three days?" Rosalia sobbed miserably, her voice trembling with fear. "Yeah, that's her. She said Ms. Whitman wanted me to suffer a fate worse than death. "Not only did she torture me, but she even sicced men on me, trying to make them ravage me. I had to fight tooth and nail to keep myself safe from their clutches." Claudio's voice grew icier with every word he spoke. "Carmy has indeed crossed a line. I can't bring myself to lay a finger on her, but I can make an example out of this lady. "Give me a whip that's dipped in saltwater." Carmen shivered with fear. She finally saw what was happening now. Not only did Rosalia slander her, but she even misled Claudio into thinking she was a madam at the nightclub so he would torture her with his own hands.