The Don’s Faceless Bride Chapter 08
Luca’s topic change was so abrupt that I didn’t process it.
He explained, “You’re face-blind.”
“If I dye my hair, you’ll be able to spot me in a crowd.”
I paused, suddenly remembering that Marco had once done the same thing for me.
From high school through college, his hair color was always the brightest and most unique on campus—so I could find him at a glance.
Then at some point, he dyed it back to black.
“I’m working now. Having weird hair colors makes me look unprofessional.”
His reason sounded fair. I didn’t push it.
I never expected that years later, someone else would say those exact words to me.
By the time I came back to my senses, he’d already pulled me into a hair salon to pick a color.
“This ice blue—you have fair skin, it’ll look great on you.”
I had my own agenda. That color was too flashy—he probably wouldn’t go for it.
But Luca said, “Really? Then that’s the one.”
I was dumbfounded and hurried to talk him out of it.
“Don’t! If you actually dye it that color, people will definitely say you’re immature.”
Luca shrugged.
“I’m not dyeing it for them. Who cares what they say?”
“As long as you like it.”
“If anyone calls me immature, I’ll take it as a compliment.”
He walked out of the salon with ice-blue hair.
“So? Is it what you pictured?”
I nodded. It was definitely eye-catching.
It was evening by the time Luca brought me to his house. His mom had dinner ready and waiting. She shrieked when she saw his blue hair.
“Why on earth did you dye it such a flashy color?”
Luca tossed his head cockily.
“Ava picked it out for me. Pretty cool, huh?”
“Cool, cool, cool. Now get out of the way—you’re blocking Ava from coming in.”
The interruption eased the awkwardness.
Luca carried my luggage into the bedroom. “If you’re not comfortable sharing a bed with me, I’ll put a pillow down the middle. We’ll each stay on our own side.”
“You can use the bathroom in here. I’ll use the one in the hall.”
He’d thought of everything. I didn’t stand on ceremony.
At nine that night, Marco called again.
He must have just gotten back from the hospital and noticed my luggage was gone.
“So you actually packed up and moved into Luca’s place?”
“Send me your location. I’ll come get you.”
I glanced at the screen—it was Marco’s number. I hung up without a second thought and blocked him.
Not long after, my parents’ messages came through.
Not asking if I had a place to stay. No—straight to blaming me.
“If it weren’t for you, Isabella’s asthma wouldn’t have flared up.”
“She’s still in the hospital.”
“I don’t know why I raised such a vicious daughter.”
“Do you have any idea what the relatives are saying about us now?”
I forced myself to listen to every voice message, then replied.
“From now on, Isabella is your daughter.”
“Until you’re old and gray, I won’t be there for you.”