My Runaway Groom Came Back I Became His Aunt! novel Chapter 26

Chapter 2

I hooked a finger beneath my bra strap, just like they told me to.

Luca didn’t move. He simply stared at me, cold fury locked behind his eyes.

“Filthy mongrel.”

His voice was low, but it carried clearly across the table.

I pretended not to hear him and let the strap slide down my shoulder, my smile never wavering.

Luca said nothing. He just stood there, his tall frame looming over me, the air in the room turning heavy and

still.

Then, with smooth precision, he picked up a lit cigar from the ashtray, its tip glowing red.

He stepped forward and pressed it hard against my chest.

Before the pain hit, I smelled the sickening scent of burning flesh.

I didn’t scream. I bit down on my lip so hard I tasted blood and stared straight at the wall.

“Don’t let my fiancée see you like this,” Luca said coldly. “It’ll ruin her appetite.”

He tossed a stack of cash onto my chest.

The bills landed right on the fresh burn, sticking there for a second before sliding to the floor.

“Take the money and get out.”

My whole body trembled. The room had fallen silent except for the hum of the air conditioner and the slow

drip of blood from my chest.

Then a soft voice spoke.

“Darling, don’t be so cruel. Let’s go.”

Bianca, Luca’s fiancée, gently looped her arm through his.

She glanced at me, her expression a strange mix of pity and disgust, then slipped her cashmere coat over my

shoulders.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she said gently, like she was soothing a stray dog. “You’re still so young. Your life is just beginning. Why hurt yourself like this? A girl should have more self-respect.”

I recognized her. She was Luca’s childhood friend. The one he destroyed me for.

Now she was beautiful, living the best life this city could offer.

And me?

Chapter 2

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I traded my body to pay for my child’s medical bills and lived in a leaking apartment in the slums.

If it hadn’t been for Luca, maybe I would have become something else. I might still be playing the cello, maybe even performing in Vienna.

Luca didn’t look at me again. He wrapped an arm around Bianca’s waist and led her out of the room.

The men kept drinking. The women kept laughing.

I looked down at my chest. The fresh burn covered the old scar.

That would make earning money even harder. Nobody liked a stripper with ugly scars.

I took a deep breath, forced myself to stand, and pushed the door open.

A hand slammed across my face like a steel plate. I crashed onto the sticky floor, blood from my nose running over my lips.

A woman in a fur coat stood over me, her face twisted with rage.

“You filthy little bitch!” she spat. “You think you can steal my husband?”

She shoved me down and raked her nails across my face, neck, and bare shoulders.

The same men who had been drooling over me minutes ago all turned away, pretending they saw nothing.

I didn’t know how long it lasted. Eventually she seemed satisfied, stood up, fixed her hair, and strutted out.

I was left there alone, bleeding, my clothes torn, every inch of my body aching.

Someone, maybe a security guard or maybe a waiter, grabbed my arm and dragged me out the back door.

I tried to sit up, but the world spun. Then headlights flared.

The beam hit me full on, bright enough to cut through the haze of pain.

A car door opened. Luca’s face appeared in the window.

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