My Last Shot After Seven Canceled Weddings Chapter 07
Mird-Person POV
If was Bianca who had instructed the PR department to issue that statement in Marcus’ name.
When Marcus saw it, he was in a company meeting. His phone buzzed with a notification. As he tapped to open it,. his brow furrowed. “Who published this?”
“…Ms. Warner said you gave your approval,” Dante answered cautiously.
Marcus picked up his phone, intending to retract it. As his finger hovered over the screen, a WhatsApp message from Bianca popped up.
“Marcus, it’s better to end the pain quickly. Give her a sign. If she truly cares about you, she’ll come running back. If she doesn’t, it just means she never loved you that much anyway, so you lose nothing.”
Marcus stared at the line of text. After a long silence, he placed his phone face down on the table.
In the end, he didn’t retract the announcement.
That afternoon, he sent another message to Cecilia. He knew she had blocked his number, so he had switched to a
new one.
“The engagement is off. If you don’t come back and apologize, we’ll never get married.”
The message was met with absolute silence.
Three days later, Marcus arrived at the meeting spot specified by Ceciora Capital.
Only then did he realize it was the Caruso family’s turf.
The Carusos were Itharion immigrants who had grown into one of the most prominent mafia dynasties in Utheria.
Marcus felt his head throb.
He looked over at Bianca, who was busy touching up her makeup, completely oblivious to what lay outside.
“Marcus, where are we? It looks so high-end.”
Marcus didn’t answer. His mind was in total disarray as he tried to recall any past dealings with the Carusos. There
were none.
He ran legitimate businesses, including restaurant chains and real estate development. He had never had any dealings with the mafia.
Ceciora Capital… Caruso…
Marcus pushed the car door open, his legs feeling weak. His mind raced toward a single name-Cecilia Caruso.
A butler led them to a patio set with tea, snacks, and two chairs. Bowing slightly, he said, “Please wait here. The Principessa will be with you shortly.”
Marcus stood at the edge of the patio, his palms slick with sweat.
A few minutes later, the glass doors behind them slid open.
A pair of heels clicked against the marble floor, crisp and unhurried.
When Marcus turned around, he saw Cecilia standing in the doorway.
She wore a dark green velvet dress, her hair pinned up to reveal the long line of her neck.
Behind her stood two men in black suits, sharp and vigilant.
She looked nothing like the woman he knew-the one in cotton dresses who used to make copies for everyone in the administrative office.
Bianca recognized her first. Her phone dropped onto the table with a sharp smack.
“Cecilia? What are you doing here?” Bianca stood up.
Her shock lasted less than two seconds before souring into a sneer. “Ha, so that’s why you vanished. You followed us here! Have you no shame? Marcus already called off the engagement, and you’re still throwing yourself at him?
She took a step forward, chin held high. “Listen up. Marcus is with me now, so stop clinging to him like a parasite You don’t deserve him. He spent five years with you and never married you. Don’t you get the hint?”
Cecilia’s POV
I looked at Bianca as if she were a hissing cat. Then, I raised my hand and slapped her across the face.
A crisp crack rang out.
Bianca clutched her cheek, stunned for a second, before screaming and lunging at me. But before she could even brush my clothes, a Soldato shoved her to the ground.
“You…” She pointed at me, then at the Soldato. “You little whore! You barely left Marcus, and you’ve already found another man?”
Turning to the Soldato, she snapped, “Do you have any idea she slept with Marcus for five years? You really want a woman like her? You’re just taking his leftovers!”
The Soldato glanced at her with a deadpan expression, then bowed respectfully to me. “Principessa, should I handle this?”
“No need,” I said flatly.
I looked at Bianca. Her face was flushed red with a clear handprint, and her lips trembled as she tried to hurl more abuse at me. But Marcus had finally snapped out of his shock.
He rushed forward, checked Bianca’s face, and then looked up at me.
His tone was still the same old habitual, self-righteous condescension as he said, “Cecilia, slapping her is crossing the line. Apologize to Bianca.”
I turned my gaze to him and smiled.
“I’m not just slapping her,” I said. “I’m slapping you, too.”
Before the words had even settled, I raised my hand and landed a slap straight across his face.
