Chapter 179
Vitale looked at Isabella's shocked and resistant expression, letting out a cold, mocking laugh, "The filth and complexity in this world, Isabella, you wouldn't want to touch it, and you can't even imagine it." His tone carried a brutal honesty, "Age? In a world of hatred, control, and twisted relationships, age is the least important thing. Marco needs a blade that's completely loyal, sharp enough, and easy to control. Eva needs guidance for her revenge and a strong pillar to lean on. They're just using each other, that's all. You think what they have is love? It's control, it's taming, it's another kind of cruelty!"
Vitale took a deep breath, trying to suppress the boiling anger and a deeper kind of exhaustion.
He looked at Isabella's still-pale face and her flickering, uncertain eyes. The urge to pull her into his arms, to confirm their connection in the most direct way, surged strongly within him again.
He reached out, his tone softening a bit, laced with coaxing and an undeniable command, "So, stop thinking about her, Isabella. Come here, into my arms. Let me take care of you, make you forget all these unpleasant things."
But Isabella instinctively shrank back, clutching the blanket tightly around her and shaking her head.
Her eyes were still unfocused, shadowed by lingering pain, "No, Vitale, I'm really not in the mood right now." Her voice was thick with the nasal tone of someone who'd been crying, full of exhaustion and resistance. "When I close my eyes, I see that explosion, I see what Eva might have looked like, and when she was driving at the end, I don't know if she screamed. Those sounds, those images..."
"Vitale, you're not me. You can't understand the pain and shock of watching someone, someone you knew, disappear like that right in front of you."
"I can't understand?" Vitale's voice suddenly rose, as if he'd been completely provoked or as if some deep nerve had been struck.
The veins on his forehead throbbed more intensely, and his gaze turned sharp and pained, "Isabella!" Vitale growled her name, his hands suddenly grabbing his hair and pulling hard, as if that could ease the turmoil inside him. "How could I not understand? How could I not know that mental drop, that fear and collapse of falling from a normal world into a bloody abyss?"
He jerked his head up, staring straight at Isabella. In his blue eyes, there was a deep, almost self-destructive pain and mockery that Isabella had never seen before, "I wasn't born knowing how to kill, and I didn't naturally enjoy bloodshed and violence." Vitale's voice grew hoarse from the intensity of his emotions, his words spilling out fast, as if he needed to pour out years of buried feelings all at once. "I was trained by my father, by that damned bastard. He used the cruelest methods to strip away all my innocence, shoved a knife into my hand, and forced me to stab my first living person. He watched me vomit, watched me break down, and then told me, this is our way of survival, this is the fate of the Luca family heir."
Vitale was panting, his chest heaving violently. That unbearable past was clearly still the darkest scar in his heart, "Do you know why I worked so hard to start a company and build Tyson Group? Why I packaged myself as a polished businessman, showing up in financial magazines and charity galas?" Vitale's tone was full of sarcasm and a deep sense of helplessness. "Because I wanted to stand in the sunlight, Isabella. I wanted to live like a normal person. I didn't want to be stuck in shadows and blood forever. That was a dream I created for myself, a dream to escape the curse of my family."
Vitale took a step forward, almost pressing against Isabella, who was wrapped in the blanket. His voice suddenly turned low and sorrowful, "But, Isabella, my family, the blood in my veins, the rules and enemies that were drilled into me since I was a child... It's not like I can just walk away and be clean. One of my feet might be in the bright world of business, wearing expensive suits, talking about multimillion-dollar deals."
Vitale paused, lifting his hand and staring at his palm, as if he could see indelible bloodstains there, "But my other foot is forever stuck in the muddy, dark abyss. There's betrayal, murder, endless schemes, and the law of an eye for an eye. I could be dragged back in at any moment. To survive, to protect everything I have, including you, I have to be more ruthless, faster, and more merciless than my enemies."
Vitale's gaze refocused on Isabella's face, showing a nearly desperate honesty and vulnerability, "So, Isabella, I'm the one who's truly pitiful. I'm caught between two worlds with no way out. I crave the light, but I have to keep stepping into the darkness. I have you, but I'm always afraid my darkness will consume you or make you fear me and push me away, like you are now, after seeing the dark side of me."
These words were like a key, unexpectedly unlocking the most hidden and fragile door in Vitale's heart.
Isabella stared at him, seeing the raw pain, struggle, and profound loneliness in his eyes.
She rarely heard Vitale talk like this.
This proud, dominant man who controlled everything never showed weakness willingly.
Even the last time in the elevator, when his face went pale and he broke out in a cold sweat from his fear of heights, he only held her tightly, masking his fear with anger and commands. It was Isabella who kissed him first, using a thrilling and risky moment of intimacy in that confined space to distract him and offer comfort.
Back then, she hadn't thought much about it. She just instinctively didn't want to see him in pain and wanted to comfort him in the only way she knew how.
But now, Vitale's pain was so raw, so heavy, and this pain was triggered by her own fear and distance.
An overwhelming wave of heartache drowned out all her conflicts, fears, and moral dilemmas.
Isabella looked at his pained, furrowed brow, the blood seeping from his arm, and the endless, desolate wilderness in his eyes, torn between two worlds.
She couldn't get past her feelings.
The shock and sympathy over Eva's death were still there.
But there was another feeling she couldn't ignore.
Seeing Vitale in such pain, and knowing she was one of the reasons for it.
A few seconds of heavy silence stretched between them.
Then, slowly, tentatively, Isabella reached out with her hands, still wrapped in bandages and trembling slightly.
Isabella didn't speak. She just looked at Vitale with her still-swollen eyes, no longer filled with fear, and gently wrapped her arms around his bare upper body.
Her movements were light, cautious, as if she was afraid of startling something, or testing whether she could truly embrace this man again—a man who had just admitted his cruelty but also revealed such deep pain.
Her cheek gently pressed against Vitale's warm, solid chest, where she could hear his steady yet slightly rapid heartbeat.
It was a silent, clumsy hug, but it carried a thousand unspoken words.