The engine hummed to life, but Luciano didn’t look away.
His gaze remained fixed on Rosa, kneeling on the wet pavement, crying her heart out.
And in his mind, the truth twisted into something ugly.
She was crying this desperately… for money?
His jaw clenched.
His eyes hardened again, colder than the rain outside, anger clouding his thoughts as he convinced himself—
This is who she really is.
A woman who could cry oceans for money.
The rain had finally stopped, leaving the night even darker and heavier than before.
Rosa still sat on the cold pavement, drenched and trembling, her mind spinning in circles.
She kept thinking… and thinking… desperately trying to figure out what she should do next.
How could she possibly arrange such an enormous amount of money now?
Every option she considered collapsed before it even fully formed.
Every path she imagined ended in a dead end.
The treatment cost was simply too high—far beyond anything she could manage.
Her uncle’s family lived in the same city, but she hadn’t run into them once since she returned.
And even if she gathered the courage to go and beg, she knew the truth:
They wouldn’t help her.
Not with a single euro.
What hurt more was the bitter irony—
The house they lived in, the business they ran, the wealth they flaunted…
All of it had belonged to her father.
All of it should have been hers.
But instead, everything had gone to her uncle.
Why did her father leave her with nothing?
A fresh ache spread through her chest.
She hugged her knees closer, her breath trembling.
As long as her grandfather had been alive, Rosa never had to worry about food or shelter and after his death, it was Luciano’s grandfather who had taken her in—honoring the promise he had made to his best friend.
And he had fulfilled that promise with genuine care… until the day Luciano stopped listening to him and forced her to sign the divorce papers.
Forced her to leave the country with nothing.
Now, sitting alone in the dark, with the cold wind around her, Rosa felt memories return one by one, reminding her of what she once had—and how she had lost it all.
She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t notice the white car stopping in front of her.
She didn’t even hear the door loudly open or the hurried footsteps approaching.
She only snapped back to her senses when she felt a warm coat settle over her trembling shoulders, before someone sank to their knees beside her and pulled her into strong, protective arms.
Rosa’s mind went blank for a moment.
Her body was shaking from the cold, and the sudden warmth felt good.
She didn’t push away the man holding her.
And when she heard his voice, relief washed over her—he wasn’t some stranger.
“Rosa!” he said, breathless.
“What are you doing here?
And why are you wet and sitting on the road like this?”
His tone was a mix of annoyance and worry, the kind only someone who truly cared would have.
Rosa pulled back, blinking up at Dr.
DeLuca, who was looking at her with absolute concern.
Seeing the confusion in her eyes, he quickly explained, “I got the message that your application was rejected.
I tried calling you, but your phone was switched off.
Lucy said she hadn’t heard from you either, so I got worried and came looking for you.”
When his gaze returned to her face—pale, lips trembling—he realized she wasn’t even in a state to answer him.
“Come with me,” he said softly, slipping an arm around her and pulling her up to her feet before guiding her toward his car, his arm still draped protectively over her shoulder.
He opened the passenger door for her.
After she sat inside, he closed it carefully, then hurried around to the driver’s side.
Sliding into his seat, he started the engine and turned the heater up to full.
As the car disappeared down the street, Luciano’s expression darkened.
He had been standing there for as long as Rosa had been crying—first watching her break down, then watching her fall silent.
He stayed at a distance where he could see her clearly, but she couldn’t see him, leaning against his car with his eyes fixed on his ex-wife, who had been sitting on the wet road for longer than even she seemed to realize.
She had stopped crying, but she still didn’t move… didn’t go home… didn’t even look around.
And for reasons he couldn’t explain—not even to himself—Luciano stayed there, watching her in silence.
Earlier, he had told Luca to stop the car after they’d driven only a short distance.
Then he ordered his assistant out.
Luciano drove back himself, parked at a distance, and stepped into the cold rain.
It drenched him, soaking through his clothes, but he didn’t care.
He just stood there, unmoving, eyes locked on Rosa, silently watching her.
But then Dr.
DeLuca appeared.
Luciano saw Rosa lift her head, saw her go into that man’s arms as if it were the most natural place for her.
And then she got into Dr.
DeLuca’s car without hesitation and left with him.
Fury burned in the Italian don’s eyes.