Chapter 4

Adrianna’s POV

“Adrianna? Adrianna Houston?” I hear a voice say beside me.

It belongs to a woman who looks to be in her early twenties. She has dark hair and a white mask with fiery patterns covering her face. I frown.

“Can I speak to you?” she asks. There is a hint of desperation in her voice. “Who are you?” I ask.

“Stella. Stella Giovanni.” She says. She darts a before look at Mario who is oblivious to what is going on. “Can we speak someplace private?”

I stare at the pictures scattered on the coffee table of the penthouse suite, my mind blank. There are pictures of women with bruises on various parts of their bodies, some with open wounds and swellings. There is even one of a murder crime scene.

“What's this?” I ask, even though I can understand what this is.

These are my fiancé’s supposed victims. Women he has allegedly hurt and assaulted. Women Luca must have paid off or threatened into silence. I can’t imagine Mario doing that to a woman. Yes, I know he tends to get physical with staff when he doesn’t get his way, but I never suspected this.

Stella is sitting on the sofa, her hands crossed on her lap. She is tapping her feet nervously.

“Mario and I dated in College.” She says. “He was sweet and kind, but sometimes he’d get violent and...” she swallows. “He’d hit me. That seems to be the only way to... for him to get off.”

She looks at my confused and horrified expression. “You haven't been with him for long, have you?”

I shake my head mutely.

“Sometimes he would hit me till I lost consciousness or knock me out with a pillow and... and that’s when he’d start.” She purses her lips and looks away. “I wanted to do something good for someone else. You don’t deserve to be tied to a man like this forever. That’s not worth it.” She stands and takes her purse.

“I have to leave now before anyone recognizes me. If you don’t believe me, ask him about Estelle. No need for a last name. The name “Estelle” is enough. Note his reaction and decide whether you want that man to be your husband.”

“Who is Estelle?”

There. It's out. I believe in meeting my problems head-on. Mario dropped me off at my suite after the party and he insisted on getting a drink. This is the best time to meet it head-on. I see the visible shock on his face, even though it's almost covered by the whiskey tumbler.

He forces a smile. “Who told you about that?”

He didn’t deny it. Just wanted to know how I knew about her. “Who is Estelle?” I repeat. He sets the tumbler down. “A simple mistake. The courts didn't find me guilty of murder.”

I blink. Estelle must be the one in the picture of a murder scene. I feel sick and I cover my mouth, hoping to stifle the nausea. He didn't deny killing her. Just said the courts didn't find him guilty.

“You...you. Mario, you killed someone?”

He stands, visibly upset. “She was being unreasonable.” He says with a shaken laugh. “Kept saying I was stalking her. That she would call the police.”

“And you... killed her?”

“Don’t say it like that!” He bursts out angrily, sending the tumbler flying and crashing against the wall. I flinch. His eyes narrow.

“So what? Now you're scared of me?” He asks.

I am. “Mario...”

“I’m a fucking monster to you?” he asks, taking a step. Instinctively, I take one backward. I realize that I may have endangered myself. The closest knife is in the kitchen, and that's not a distance I can teach without alerting him.

“Calm down, you’re being unreasonable.” As soon as I say the words, I realize I've made another mistake. He walks towards me and I shield my face before I realize it. He seems to notice this and stops in his tracks.

I slowly bring my arms down and look at him. His eyes are red-rimmed and teary.

“I thought you were different.” He mutters. “I thought you wouldn't brand me as a murderer like the others.”

“I...”