Filippo's gaze instantly darkened, and before she could continue packing her bags, his hand fisted in her hair, yanking it hard as he slammed her against the wall.
"What did you just say to me?" He demanded.
Delfina gasped in pain when her body hit the rough surface, but she didn't get the chance to register what had happened before rough, large hands wrapped tightly around her neck, cutting off her airflow.
"You've suddenly grown wings and think you can leave me," Filippo spat, his eyes red with rage as he glared down at her frail frame.
Delfina clawed at his hand, tapping desperately for him to let her go, but his grip was too strong. She couldn't breathe, and she could already feel herself slipping closer to unconsciousness.
"But don't worry. I'll gladly cut those wings and put you back in your place," he added, finally releasing her. Her body crumpled to the floor like a rag doll.
Delfina coughed violently, gasping for air as if she had been deprived of oxygen for too long.
"I'm going to show you."
Through blurred vision, she watched Filippo remove his belt, folding it before the first lash struck her skin.
She screamed at the top of her lungs, her chest burning as if her lungs would burst.
But Filippo didn't care. He delivered more lashes than she could count, ignoring her pleas as she begged him to stop. He never did. Instead, he seemed to relish the pain he inflicted with his own hands.
If someone had told Delfina that the man she loved would one day cause her this much pain, she would have thought they were only trying to destroy her perfect relationship.
Both of their families had arranged their marriage over a decade ago.
Delfina had opposed it from the beginning, only to eventually fall in love with him. Never—not once—did she imagine she would be treated this way.
By the time Filippo was finished, her body was bruised and bleeding. She lay sprawled on the floor like a lifeless shell, her blood pooling beneath her, staining her wedding dress a deep crimson.
Filippo sat across from her, his eyes sweeping over her with practiced contempt, as if she were something far beneath him.
He lit a cigarette and took a drag, her nearly lifeless body not bothering him in the slightest.
"That was a workout," he muttered.
The door suddenly opened, and the sound of clicking heels echoed inside.
Delfina's vision was too blurred to see who it was, but the moment she heard the voice, her heart skipped painfully—betrayal and shock crashing into her all at once.
It was Navira. Her sister.
"Hi, my love." Navira rushed toward Filippo, settling onto his lap and looping her arms around his neck. "I didn't expect you to call me so soon."
"Dealing with her didn't take much time," Filippo replied. "I just needed to remind her of her place. Why don't you take a look at my piece of art?"
He tilted his chin toward Delfina, who lay motionless. Her eyes were open, but the pain made it impossible for her to move.
Navira rose from Filippo's lap and walked toward her with practiced elegance, her heels clicking against the marble floor like a ticking bomb.
She crouched to Delfina's level, scanning her with pure disdain. "Tsk, tsk, tsk… look what you brought upon yourself."
Navira reached forward, her perfectly manicured nails hovering over Delfina's skin as if debating whether to touch her.
"You look like a rag doll, sister." She withdrew her hand with visible disgust. "Maybe if you hadn't overreacted, things wouldn't have turned out like this."
Delfina didn't know when Filippo had called Navira, but it was obvious he had done it so they could mock her together.
"What did I ever do to you?" Delfina asked weakly, trying to move. Pain shot through her spine, forcing her back into stillness.
"Me? You didn't do anything to me," Navira chuckled, twirling a strand of her brown hair. "But your existence has always been a bane in my life."
Despite being the biological child of the Delamonte family, Navira had always felt overshadowed by Delfina. Their parents' attention had always gravitated toward Delfina—the most beautiful, the most elegant, the most admired.
It made Navira's blood boil, knowing she had lived in Delfina's shadow for years.
She had waited patiently—especially after their parents arranged Delfina's marriage to Filippo—waiting for the perfect moment to take him from her. And after years of effort, she finally got what she wanted.
When Navira saw a single tear slip down Delfina's face, satisfaction bloomed within her.
She stood and turned to Filippo, who had watched the exchange silently, a grin curling on his lips as he smoked.
"What are you going to do with her now?" Navira asked, swaying her hips as she returned to him.
"I'll keep her around for now, until we get married. Then we'll decide what to do with her," Filippo replied, his eyes flicking to Delfina for a brief second before returning to Navira.
A smile spread across Navira's lips, her eyes curving into crescents.
"Or," he added, pressing a kiss to her lips, "You can decide what you want to do with her."
Delfina watched in horror as Filippo deepened the kiss, keeping his gaze locked on her, making sure she saw everything.
She watched her fiancé make out with her sister as if she didn't exist—as if she weren't lying in her own blood after what he'd done to her.