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My little one shook his head frantically, clinging to my legs.

“No ! I want to stay withmamma!”

Antonio watched us with dark eyes, his jaw clenched, hands gripping his hair, ready to explode.

I crouched beside Rafael, cupping his face with a small smile despite my blurred vision from the tears.

“Angelo mio,go inside and wait for me, okay ?”

He shook his head again, hugging me, rubbing his nose behind my ear,I love you. I sobbed uncontrollably now, tears flowing freely.

“Me too,Angelo mio. I love you too,” I whispered, holding him close.

“Enough, Rafael ! Now !” Antonio yelled.

I separated myself from my baby, gently pushing him toward one of the rooms. He gave me one last look, his green eyes—so much like mine—shining with tears, before slowly closing the door behind him with a sniffle.

And then, everything happened so fast, I let out a cry when Antonio grabbed me by the hair, yanking me to my feet. I bit my lip hard to stop more screams from escaping—to stop my son from hearing, to stop giving the monster the satisfaction.

He pressed his nose against my bruised cheek, tightening his grip, making me whimper. His other hand wrapped around my throat, squeezing harder and harder.

“Ah, Selina, Selina, Selina… So, you flirt with my enemies ? In dark hallways, behind my back ? Did you dare betray me,Cara mia?” he shouted into my face.

I squeezed my eyes shut, shaking my head despite the pain his grip caused.

“I just wanted to help the boy—he was crying. His… his father came after, I swear,” I whimpered, trying to justify myself.

His hand slapped across my face so violently that I collapsed to the floor. The pain was so intense that the world blurred, and the familiar taste of blood flooded my mouth, worsening my nausea.

He yanked me back to my feet. I had lost one of my heels, my dress had slipped, leaving one shoulder bare, and strands of hair stuck to my bloody lips.

His fingers clamped around my jaw, squeezing so hard that my teeth sank into my own skin. He slammed his forehead against mine, making me groan.

“Mia dolce, you want to be another boy’s mother, huh?” he spat in my face.

I tried to speak, but only pitiful whimpers escaped my trembling lips. I tried to shake my head, but my body was paralyzed, tears flowing freely, mixing with the blood.

“He touched you. That Russian bastard touched my wife,” he growled against my lips, his grip shifting from my throat to my left hand—the same hand Ivanov had held just moments ago.

“Was it this hand he touched,Cara mia? This hand that belongs to me ?” he asked, tightening his hold on my wrist.

“No, no, please,” I whispered, and his eyes gleamed with pleasure at my words.

He nodded slowly, released my jaw, and grabbed my index and middle fingers. Our eyes locked as a twisted smile stretched across his lips, and before I could say anything else, he twisted my fingers—breaking them.

A scream ripped from my throat, but his hand muffled it, cutting off my cries and sobs. The pain made black spots dance before my eyes. I felt myself slipping into unconsciousness, but the agony dragged me back.

Antonio finally released me, and I collapsed to the floor.

I clutched my wrist with my uninjured hand, cradling it against my chest. I sobbed, I whimpered, I hurt—I hurt so much.

“Where else did he touch you,Cara mia? Huh ? Your arm ?” he taunted, stepping toward me again.

He was going to break my arm next, my arms, my legs, and then my face.

I closed my eyes, praying, thinking of my baby in the room next door.

I flinched when two soft knocks sounded against the door, I lifted my eyes as the monster moved toward the entrance.