Chapter 1

I took a bullet to the brain to save Vincent Moretti from his enemies, and I'd sustained permanent cognitive impairment ever since.

It took Vincent ten years of violence and bloodshed to finally become the crime lord of the Silaris Heights.

To the rest of the world, he was a powerful Mafia boss everyone feared.

But at home, he was the one who fed me and dressed me, like a caretaker.

When his men tried to get rid of me behind his back, he hung them from the top of a skyscraper and left them to starve.

After that, everyone knew I was the one person he truly cherished.

Vincent loved me deeply, but after the 99th time I cried and kicked him out of bed, he finally reached his breaking point.

He started looking at me with nothing but exhaustion and began staying out all night.

Eventually, I found a woman in his bed who looked almost exactly like me.

Spoiled by his years of indulgence, I took a knife and slashed her cheek.

I was about to go for her eyes when Vincent pressed a gun to my forehead.

He said, "Slit your wrist.

"Do it yourself."

I didn't understand why he was telling me to do it.

I was terrified of the pain, but I was even more afraid of him being angry or leaving me.

I raised the knife high and swung it toward my own wrist.

*****

The moment the blade sank into my skin, Vincent grabbed the sharp edge with his bare hand, stopping me cold.

Blood gushed from his palm, streaming down between his fingers.

He glared down at me with a look that could kill.

He roared, "Are you insane?

"You wanna lose your hand? Is dying what you want now?"

I stared at him, mind totally blank. All I felt was hurt and confused.

I didn't wanna die. I was just scared Vincent would leave me.

He didn't even care about his own bleeding hand. Before I could say anything, he yanked my wrist over and started inspecting it, his eyes sharp and worried.

He checked my nails, my fingers, my skin, even the muscle underneath, not missing a single detail.

When Vincent saw that my wound wasn't deep, he finally let out a breath of relief.

"Enough, quit crying. Go grab the bandages," he said, his voice still rough.

I sucked back my tears, nodded hard, and turned to run off.

Vincent's blood dripped onto the marble floor, each drop so bright it made my heart jump.

I kept looking back as I ran, scared he'd bleed out before I got back.

I loved him so much. I didn't want him to hurt, and I definitely didn't want him to die.

When I got back, the woman in the bed already had her face all bandaged up.

Her nightgown was filthy, so she just shrugged it off. Her legs draped over Vincent as she knelt on the floor, working hard to please him.

Her voice was all sweet and breathy, like she was gasping for air, drowning in pleasure.

I stood at the doorway, frozen, not sure if I should go in or just turn around and leave.

The woman asked, "Mr. Moretti, that lunatic is just dead weight. Why do you keep her around?"

The woman, Isabelle Chandler, just couldn't wrap her head around it. A cold-blooded man like Vincent Moretti kept me by his side all these years, even though I was his one weakness.

But the fact that a savage man like him could have a soft spot only made him more dangerously irresistible.

Isabelle wrapped herself around Vincent, the Tyrant of Silaris Heights, pleasure clouding her mind as she lost herself in him.

I didn't really understand what Isabelle meant.

Vincent didn't answer. He just closed his eyes, let out a low grunt, somewhere between pain and pleasure, and let smoke curl from his lips.

"I'm just so tired," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

His voice was low and gentle, but it felt like a knife stabbing right into my heart.

Isabelle let out a flirty little moan, her voice rolling in waves, each one more seductive than the last.

Isabelle purred, "Mr. Moretti, she's useless now. Keeping her around is just holding you back.

"I can be way more useful to you, please you more than she ever could.

"Ten years is more than enough. You should set yourself free."

Ten years ago, when someone dared to say that, Vincent had him hanging from the top of a skyscraper, starving him for a full seven days.

The guy begged for mercy, completely spent and desperate, but Vincent never gave him the relief of a quick death.

But at that moment, Vincent just stayed silent.

That silence was terrifying.

I crouched by the doorway, hugging my knees to my chest and biting down on my hand, holding back my tears as hard as I could.

I told myself I wouldn't cry. I was being good.

I took a deep breath, put on my brightest smile, and walked back in as if nothing had happened.

When Vincent saw me come in, he instantly put out his cigarette.

I awkwardly pressed down on his wound, then blew on it like a little kid.

"Pain, fly away!" I chirped, trying to sound cheerful.

I remembered, back when I was hurting the worst, Vincent would always say that to me.

It was like he had magic. Whenever he said those words, my pain really would disappear.

Vincent paused for a moment. Maybe I'd wrapped it too tightly, making him frown in pain.

Isabelle gave me a hard shove, her face twisted in disgust.

"Seriously? Look at you, dumb and useless. You really think you can handle bandaging Mr. Moretti?" she snapped.

I felt that urge to stab her all over again.

Vincent just gave me a cool, warning glance, and I dropped the knife in a flash.

My arm hurt like hell where I'd been shoved into the wall.

Isabelle's insults just kept getting nastier, each word like a slap in the face.

Fuming, I stormed off, my heart pounding with anger.

At the end of the hallway, two of Vincent's men were gossiping.

"If Mr. Moretti didn't have that idiot girl dragging him down, he would've been on the top ages ago," one of them scoffed.

"Yeah, if she'd just kicked the bucket sooner, Mr. Moretti would've had it way easier," the other snorted.

My heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might explode. I burst out and shouted, "Who says I'm useless?"