The expression transformed his face, softened the hard edges, warmed the ice in his eyes. He patted her hand reassuringly, didn't even glance in my direction, and handed his black card to the waiting saleswoman.
"She's a friend."
The words hit me like a blade of Sicilian steel, driven straight between my ribs. Goosebumps erupted across my skin. My knees nearly buckled.
A friend.
So that's what three years amounted to. Three years of devotion, of sacrifice, of loving a man who couldn't—wouldn't—love me back. One word: friend.
The boutique's crystal chandeliers flickered overhead, the lights crackling with an electrical fault that no one had bothered to fix. I looked up instinctively—
Just as a fixture broke loose from the ceiling.
A deafening crash.
Searing pain exploded across my back like white-hot fire, driving the breath from my lungs. Glass and metal rained down around me. I hit the marble floor hard, and something warm and wet began to spread beneath my body.
My trembling fingers came away slick with blood. My blood.
The store erupted into chaos. Screams pierced the air. Phone calls blurred into a single ringing in my ears. Someone was crying. Someone was shouting for help.
But when I lifted my gaze through the haze of agony, all I saw was Nico scooping Massima into his arms, his dark eyes wild with panic as he scanned the crowd.
"Call an ambulance! Now!"
I had never seen him so frantic. I had never heard his voice carry such raw terror.
And it wasn't for me.
"Sir, please—this woman needs to go first."
The paramedic's voice cut through the chaos as they carefully lifted my half-conscious body onto a stretcher. Blood had soaked through my dress, pooling on the white sheets beneath me. The world swam in and out of focus.
"The next ambulance is on its way, but her injuries are critical. We need to move now."
But Nico blocked their path, his face contorted with fury, his tall frame an immovable wall.
"Save her!"
A violent shove. The stretcher tilted. I tumbled off and hit the marble floor again, the impact jolting me back to agonizing consciousness. Fresh pain lanced through my spine.
I watched, helpless and bleeding, as he gently—so gently—placed Massima onto the stretcher in my place. His hands cradled her like she was made of spun glass.
"Sir, she only has a sprained wrist—it's not serious!"
"You're misusing emergency resources! This woman is dying!"