A Heart in Ruins Chapter 09

Vittorio stood still, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. “She went abroad. I’m going to bring her back now.”

“Remember to bring her over for dinner when you get back.” Dad reminded him with a smile.

He kept talking, his tone full of fondness. “She is so thoughtful. Last time, she deliberately scoured an auction house for an antique tea set just to cheer me up. And your mom suffers from insomnia, yet she specially takes her for acupuncture every single week without fail.”

Vittorio froze in his tracks. He had never known that Sylvia had done all these things, The weight of her silent devotion suddenly pressed down on his chest.

Just as he reached the front door, the bodyguards were escorting Silvia inside. Her eyes were red and swollen, betraying a night of endless weeping.

At the sight of Vittorio, she lunged forward and grabbed his arm, “Vittorio! Don’t go, please!”

Her voice trembled, thick with unshed tears. “Can we just pretend as if nothing ever occurred yesterday? I don’t want to leave you.”

Vittorio lowered his gaze, his tone perfectly calm, “Go make our relationship public to our parents right now.”

Silvia’s fingers tightened violently against his sleeve before slowly relaxing. Biting her lip, she hesitated once again.

Pushing her hand away, Vittorio said with finality. “Silvia, I have spoiled you too much. I can’t love you without self-respect. I’ve already chosen a candidate for you. From now on, we are nothing but brother and sister.”

His voice was soft, yet left no room for argument, “I’ll bring Sylvia back. You’re never allowed to abuse her as you used to. In the future, I will no longer play favorites.”

With those words, Vittorio walked away, his figure resolute and uncompromising. Silvia stood rooted to the spot, large tears plummeting down her face.

Vittorio took a plane to Germany without delay. He bought some chocolates and perfumes Sylvia loved, various expensive pieces of jewelry, and even…a new wedding ring. On the twelve-hour flight, he even didn’t close his

eyes once.

After landing, he headed straight to the Cross’s villa in Germany following the address.

As the scenery outside the window blurred past at breakneck speed, Vittorio’s heartbeat inexplicably quickened. Countless scenarios of their reunion came to his mind.

Sylvia might sulk and drive him away. Or, she would confront him with reddened eyes, asking why he had arrived so late. Or…she would throw herself into his arms just like before, grumbling about why he only came.

But when he pulled over in front of the villa, all of his fantasies shattered in an instant.

Vittorio noticed that Sylvia was locked in a passionate embrace with a young man in the garden the moment he got off the car.

Sylvia still wore a red dress that he had once deemed too gaudy, her long hair fluttered gently in the breeze. She stood on her tiptoes, wrapping her arms around the man’s neck. He held her waist tightly, kissing her with a tenderness Vittorio had never been allowed to witness.

The golden sunlight bathed them in its glow. Sylvia tilted her face upward, her eyes closed, completely lost in the

kiss. It was the scene that Vittorio had never seen before.

At that moment, Sylvia looked passionate, vibrant, and devoted….just like he met her for the very first time when she was twenty..

Standing outside the garden, Vittorio unconsciously gripped the handle until blue veins stood out on the back of his hands. Staring at them in the distance, his throat tightened. An unfamiliar fury surged from his chest, burning hot enough to incinerate whatever rationality he had left.

“Sylvia!” Vittorio shouted. His voice was sonorous, yet sending an undeniable chill.

The two looked in the direction of the sound. The man turned his head. The sunlight fell upon his face, outlining his deep-set brows and high-bridged nose. Dressed in a casual black shirt with the collar slightly unbuttoned, his collarbone peeked through faintly. A faint smile lingered in the gaze.

“Vittorio?” The man was astounded to see him appear from the door. He raised an eyebrow, “What are you doing here?”

Vittorio’s gaze instantly turned glacial. He recognized Dante Falzone. He was Gilbert Cross’s closest friend, the only son of the Falzone. In addition to that, Dante was notorious as a playboy. He was wild, arrogant, and unrestrained.

“What the hell are you doing?” Vittorio raised his voice. “Answer me.’

Dante let out a low chuckle, casually draping his arm over my shoulder. “Can’t you see it? We’re kissing.”

He clapped a hand to his forehead, “Oh, I forgot to introduce.”

He pointed at me, deliberately pausing for emphasis, his eyes flashing with a provocative challenge.

“This is my girlfriend.”