Blood Phoenix ：My Fiancé Sold Me To My Eighteen Mafia Fathers Chapter 07
The cellars beneath the Moretti estate never see daylight. The air down there is thick — old blood, damp stone, mildew.
I carried a steaming takeout container down the stairs. One step at a time, heels clicking on wet stone.
At the end of the corridor, behind iron bars, Julian was slumped in the corner like a pile of wet laundry.
Whip marks all over his back. Bruises layered on bruises. The boys had clearly been paying him special attention.
He heard my heels. His whole body flinched. He forced his head up.
The second he saw it was me — something twisted in his eyes.
Fear. Regret. And something even more pathetic — hope.
I nodded at the guard. He unlocked the cell.
I walked in, set the container down on the stone table, and pulled up a chair. Crossed my legs. Watched him.
“Recognize this?”
I peeled back the lid. Steam curled up. Cheap instant ramen. The kind you get from a corner store for two bucks. Extra broth. Extra spice.
Julian stared at it. His eyes went red instantly.
Our first winter together.
His business had just tanked. He was flat broke. We sat on the curb outside a 24-hour bodega in the middle of a snowstorm and split a single cup of ramen between us.
That night he was shaking from the cold. But every single piece of meat in that cup — every one — he fished out and dropped in my mouth. Sipped nothing but the broth himself.
Swore he’d give me a good life someday.
That cup of ramen. That’s the only reason I stayed. Three years. Eating scraps with him. Playing wife.
“Sera…”
Julian dragged himself toward me on his hands and knees. Reached for the hem of my coat.
I stepped back. Let my face do the disgust for me.
He froze mid-reach. Tears started falling. Big, ugly ones. Splashing on the stone.
“Sera, I’m sorry… I’m so sorry, baby. These three days down here — all I can think about is us. What we had.”
He looked up at me. His eyes were bottomless. Broken. Begging.
“Just tell me one thing. Those three years. Were you faking it the whole time? Or… or did you actually love me?”
I lifted the container. Blew gently on the steam. Took a slow, deliberate sip of the broth.
“I did.”
Julian’s whole face lit up. Like he’d just been thrown a rope in the middle of the ocean.
The next second, I cut it.
“But you weren’t worth it.”
I reached into my pocket. Pulled out a ring.
A cheap silver band. Three years of wear. Edges gone black with tarnish.
The ring he bought me off some vendor’s cart on the sidewalk. His proposal ring.
“Julian. Your love. It makes me sick.”
Plink.
I let it drop. Straight into the steaming broth. A few drops of oil splashed up. The ring vanished under the surface.
Julian shattered.
He lunged for the container. Didn’t care that the broth was near boiling. Shoved his hand straight in.
His skin blistered instantly. But he clutched that greasy little ring like it was the last thing keeping him alive. Started slamming his forehead against the stone.
“Please. Please. Three years, Sera. Just three years — that’s all I’m asking. One more chance. I swear on my life, I’ll be your dog. I’ll do anything —”
I stood up. Looked down at this man who’d throw away every last shred of dignity just to breathe another day.
All I felt was contempt.
“Forgive you?”
I gave him a cold little laugh.
“Enjoy the cellars, Julian.”
I turned. Walked to the iron door. Didn’t look back.
“Sera! Serafina! Kill me! Just kill me, you hear me?! KILL ME!”
His screams tore up the stairwell behind me. Raw. Hoarse. Broken.
I stopped at the top step. Half-turned. Just enough for him to see the side of my face. Nothing more.
“You’re gonna wish I killed you, Julian. Every single day.”
And I closed the door.