Chapter 8 I Know He Is Hurting You

A few days later, it was Julia D'Angelo's birthday banquet. When night fell, the car drove into Julia's estate. It was completely silent inside the car. Alessandro turned to look at Lucia, who was sitting beside him. She wore a white silk backless gown, perfectly replicating Elena's favorite style. She looked sacred and elegant. But she was far too quiet. Her lifeless obedience stirred an inexplicable irritation in him. The moment the car was parked, Alessandro stepped out first. He whispered a warning into her ear. "Remember what I told you. Don't embarrass me." "I won't, Alessandro," Lucia answered meekly. They entered the banquet hall arm in arm and instantly became the center of attention. Admiring, curious, and jealous gazes were directed at them. The men's blatant, hungry stares made Alessandro tighten his grip on Lucia's arm. A fierce possessiveness arose within him. Even if she was only a substitute, she was still his property. A senator with lewd eyes came forward to greet them. His gaze lingered on Lucia's exposed shoulders. Alessandro shot him a cold glance that was so murderous that the man's smile froze instantly. Alessandro introduced Lucia curtly, and she played her part flawlessly. He smiled, nodded, and exchanged polite words with others. She looked like a beautiful artificial flower—perfect on the outside but lifeless inside. The frustration Alessandro had been feeling inside intensified. He even found himself missing the old Lucia who would pout and glare when she felt displeased. It was way better than the lifeless husk she was now. During a brief lull, he looked down and tried to catch any tiny crack in her expression. "Tired?" Lucia looked up at him with hollow eyes. "I'm not tired. Do you want me by your side as you socialize?" Alessandro let go of her arm. "Go rest for a bit. Don't wander far. Don't make me look for you." "Alright." Lucia nodded obediently and walked toward a quieter corner. "Those shoes look painful to wear. Don't they hurt your feet?" A gentle voice sounded beside Lucia. She turned in alarm and saw a middle-aged woman in a deep purple gown. She looked youthful for her age, and her gray-blue eyes resembled Alessandro's emerald ones. Lucia assumed this had to be his mother, Julia. "Signora D'Angelo," Lucia greeted, feeling flustered and trying to curtsey. "Don't be nervous, child." Julia waved her hand lightly, her gaze falling on Lucia's pale face. There was no judgment in her eyes, only weary and knowing compassion. "You've done very well. I know being his wife is very difficult." Lucia lowered her eyes to her glass. "It's my honor." Julia let out a soft laugh. "Don't say things like that. I'm his madre, though not a very good one. I know he's hurting you." Lucia's fingers tightened around the glass, but she said nothing. Julia sighed and went on, "Alessandro wasn't born a monster. Before he was ten, he used to smile. He'd cry for an injured bird. But it all changed the year I divorced his father." Lucia was stunned for a moment. No one dared to mention the Rossi family matters in public. "I couldn't stand living in constant bloodshed. So, I ran. I left him behind," Julia said in a very soft voice. She paused for a moment before continuing, "After that, the old Don took him in. He believed emotions were a weakness. He forced Alessandro to kill his own pet and threw him into fighting pits. He stripped away every soft part of him until only hard armor remained." Lucia felt a pang in her chest, but the memory of her own humiliation quickly washed it away. Julia looked at Lucia and admitted, "I play a huge part in how he turned out. He doesn't understand love. All he knows is possession and domination. In his world, only what he can hold tightly in his own hand is safe to have. "Elena's death destroyed the last light in him. It made him think fate punishes those with a vulnerable spot." Lucia felt stifled. Again, it had something to do with Elena. "Are you telling me this so I'll forgive him? Just because his childhood was tragic, is everything he did to me justified?" Lucia asked hoarsely. Shaking her head, Julia explained, "No, my child. I'm not making up excuses for him. I just want you to know that he's afraid." "Afraid?" Lucia scoffed, thinking that it was ironic. Julia continued steadily, "Yes. I've watched him all night. His eyes haven't left you for more than three seconds. He makes you dress like Elena because he's terrified of facing the real you. The real Lucia, the one who's vivid and alive, makes him feel out of control." After saying that, Julia gently held Lucia's cold hand. She added, "He craves love more desperately than anyone. Elena is only an illusion of perfection, but you are real. And your realness terrifies him. So, he's trying to turn you into another illusion." Lucia withdrew her hand and gave a small, broken smile. "You're overthinking it. In his eyes, I'm nothing but a tool with a similar face." "Maybe." Julia held her gaze meaningfully. "But I know my son. One day, if you leave or give up on him completely, that will be his true hell. Losing you would hurt him far more than losing Elena ever did."