When a Hostage Claims Her Due
Eight years after my breakup with Lorenzo Cassano, we met again in a private tattoo studio in Chicago. He was with his wife, Bianca Marchetti, accompanying her for a scar cover-up consultation.
I wore a mask and goggles, sketching a design for her, while she proudly flaunted her conquest to her friends.
"A man like him is a prize you have to fight for," Bianca said. "To get him, I turned him against his childhood sweetheart, forged evidence of her colluding with our enemies, and drove them apart until they hated each other. That woman was even pregnant at the time, so I… hinted to my men to teach her a 'lesson' when they exiled her!"
After they left, I took off my mask, my hand drifting to my lower abdomen. Beneath my clothes lay an ugly scar.
A few days later, Lorenzo found the ring that symbolized our love, the one Bianca had hidden away. He came with a signed divorce agreement and knelt before me.