I Was His Precious Until She Came Back Chapter 02
Fear suddenly seized me. If the brothers who once adored me could turn cruel, would Matteo do the same?
Would he begin losing patience with me?
Would he hate my stupidity and demand to know why I had not died?
My vision blurred, and a tear struck the carpet.
I lowered my head and stared at it.
When I finally looked up, the living room was empty.
Matteo had carried Amelia into our bedroom.
I was afraid of angering him and hearing him order me away again.
I curled up on the couch instead of going upstairs.
Something felt wrong. Cold shook my body even while fever burned beneath my skin.
Through the haze, I heard footsteps.
Believing Matteo had remembered me, I looked up eagerly.
Instead, a woman with loose, disordered hair stood there wearing my sleep shirt.
My gaze reached her exposed neck, and I froze.
Red marks crowded every visible inch of her neck, including bleeding bite impressions.
She adjusted the shirt with feigned embarrassment.
“Sorry. Matteo was impatient, and you had to see the result…”
After studying me, she used the title I knew so well.
“Donna.”
I thought Matteo had lost his temper and hurt someone again.
Afraid she might be angry with him, I forced my weak, feverish body across the room to a cabinet in the corner.
Under her curious gaze, I carefully found several adhesive bandages.
“You’re bleeding. Put these on, and it won’t hurt.”
“Don’t yell at Matteo. Please don’t be angry.”
Surprise crossed her face before a sharp laugh escaped her and something mocking entered her eyes.
“People describe you as some brilliant woman who keeps Matteo under her thumb. I expected someone impressive.”
“You’re really just an idiot.”
I froze, my chest beginning to ache.
Once, those insults had meant almost nothing to me.
When people called me stupid, I pretended not to hear and kept smiling at them.
But Matteo had cared fiercely.
After he defended me again and again, I had slowly learned that I was allowed to feel hurt and demand respect.
I looked directly at the woman.
“Apologize. You can’t call me stupid.”
Contempt flashed across her face as she moved closer.
Then she raised a cup of steaming water and threw it at me.
My lower leg still ached in bad weather from an old scald.
By instinct, I reached out and shoved her.
Her cry split the air.
“My hand! It hurts… Matteo, please… it hurts!”
