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The moment Maria had turned and registered what was playing on the screen, her heart dropped.

The mic she had held high in her hand had come down by her side, her limbs becoming weak as her eyes expanded at the screen before her. All efforts for that night to go well had come shattering down. It was over.

Her back was against the wall; the camera had clearly been hidden perfectly on a shelf close by. Both faces could be made out from the side—Maria couldn't deny that it was her. She could remember that heated day— that pink leotard of hers was ripped off by Jorge later on that evening. She prayed that the video didn't extend that far. His hands were all over her body, and his lips were devouring hers. Maria's eyes shut tightly, unable to handle the intensity of what was happening in front of her. The sounds—the sounds of their lips smacking against each other, the quiet noises of lust were absolutely horrible to listen to. She didn't realise she was beginning to shake; the mic was practically quaking in her hand.

But what quickly replaced her embarrassment and shame was anger. Anger towards one person, and one person only. The wrath was enough for her to bravely turn and bring the mic right back to her lips; a plastered smile masked the burning vengeance desperate to break through. The video swiftly stopped after the media team, running backwards and forwards at the back, switched off the screen, the previous poster put back in place.

Iris had made her way forward, her eyes filled with worry on Maria, feeling utterly filled with fury and despair on what to do. But it didn't matter; Maria had enough thoughts in her head as to how to satisfy her indignation.

As though nothing had occurred, she held her head high and simply finished her speech with, "Please, enjoy the rest of the performance." With the slightly delayed and awkward clapping, the dancers were rushed onto the stage that Maria had walked off, elegantly and radiantly. She walked straight past the managers and staff desperate to speak with her and dropped the mic back into its box, swiftly making her way out of the back.

She opened the door and swiftly made her way towards the private rooms, promptly and gracefully walking down the long corridor, the same refined smile across her face, though no one was there to see him. Her body was shaking with fury, her hands were curled into fists by her side, and her heart was pounding harder and harder by the second. If she could list all the ways she'd like to murder, she could. Easily.

Maria could almost hear her ears ringing and feel each palpation of her heart thundering in her chest. Her muscles were tense, rigid with each movement. She lifted her dress and pulled out the knife against her thigh.

When her hand reached out and opened her dressing room door, the sharp blade plunged through Jorge's shirt, deeply in his skin, the blood squirting out immediately once she freed the knife from his body. She roughly shoved him backwards, and he fell onto his back quickly. Maria went over and grabbed his shirt, her knuckles pressing hard against his neck as she tightened her grip, her hand shaking with vexation as she questioned, "Was that entertaining for you?" Her voice shook as she spoke, filled with anger. The rage almost consumed her once he started laughing, the blood dripping from his shoulder. Maria darkly chuckled, pushing him against the wall as he roared with laughter, amused by her exasperation; exactly the reaction he loved.

"Very. I wanted the whole world to know how I used and still own a dirty little slut like you." His dark eyes trailed down to her breasts, licking his lips ever so slowly as he pervertedly smirked.

Maria scoffed, looking up for a second. "Oh, you fucking demon," Maria menacingly whispered, gripping the knife in her hands again as she desired to end it all right then and there. She dropped it, letting go of the knife and standing up, brushing down her dress. She bitterly laughed again, throwing her head back as she tamped down her seething anger. "Do you miss me that much? Are you that fucking desperate to have me?"

"Listen to me carefully, Jorge," she began, still simmering with anger that he had humiliated her in front of all those guests. "I vow to you once this season is over, there won't be another for you. You can try all you fucking want, but I promise you, these will be your last bloody days." She eerily smiled, already imagining her revenge.

"You will die by my hands. And that's a fucking fact."

He could only laugh as she glared, fighting the chaos of anger within her. He must have genuinely thought Maria was joking, loudly guffawing as if her words didn't mean a single thing to him. But he was wrong; when Maria put her mind to something, she always did it. There was no possible way her words could not come true.

As she went to leave, he provoked, "I'd like to see you try, Maria." She turned back at him again, his free hand holding onto his bleeding shoulder. She wished she could drive the knife right into his heart, pierce each muscle, and leave him gasping for air. But she'd savour it; Maria would savour the moment where she'd personally remove Jorge from existence, and it would surely be sweet.

"Just listen to me, kitten. That's what I always tell you." Jorge chuckled again, smirking sadistically. "Do as you're told, and your secret stays safe with me. Don't push me to do things you don't want coming out."

Maria disdainfully looked at him, faking a smile. "I will never let you dictate what I do, Jorge. Never."

By the time she had approached the doors for the gala hall, Maria was swarmed by reporters. Their questions and photographs were endless; they were like parasites, flocking all over her, invading her personal space, and desperately begging for her response. Each question was about Jorge, linked to the video, linked to her personal life.

She had managed to push past them all and re-enter the hall; Iris's eyes landed on her, and she rushed over, her eyes wide with despair. "Ria, oh my gosh—are you okay? This is—"

"Iris, I need you to take Luna home," Maria told her in a serious tone, cutting off her worries. Iris's eyes lowered, and she groaned, putting her hand on the top of her head. "Ria, there's no way I'm leaving you here alone. Don't push me away."

Maria gave her a small smile, holding onto her shoulders as she looked at Iris courageously. "I'm a big girl, Iris," Maria joked, unable to completely hide her stress. "I can handle a scandal. Please just do me a favour and take Lu home. She doesn't need all of this." Maria eagerly gazed at Iris, who quickly pulled her in for a hug, tightly holding her best friend.

"Ria..." Iris tearfully said, her voice muffled in Maria's shoulder.

"I'll be leaving soon, Iris. I'm okay." Iris looked back at Maria again, quickly wiping her eyes and nodding.

"Text me when you get home," Iris sadly said, "What a fucking mess." Maria merely smiled, understanding the massive impact the video was going to have on her image, Dream, the Grand Performance, and the next few months. She was ready for the wave of heavy responses and criticism. An apology letter had probably already been written up by the media team, not for the details of the video but for disturbing the gala night.

When Iris left to find Luna, Maria was back on stage again. She still had a final role in a speech thanking the guests for coming even though she dreaded facing all those people once again. She tried to ignore the feeling of her heart breaking into a million pieces and her self-esteem lowering by each second. She felt violated and disrespected but tried to ignore her mixed feelings of anger and indignity.

But before she could send her gratitude, she was professional in kindly beginning, "Good evening. Before I express my gratefulness, I'd like to apologise for the disruption caused by—"

"Is it true you used to date Jorge Ivanov? The male lead for this upcoming performance?"

Maria maintained the professional smile on her face, her eyes on the clock far ahead of her as she ignored the initial shout from a reporter, who wasn't allowed in.

"-the video previously shown. This has—"

"Are we all supposed to ignore what we just saw like idiots?"

Her eyes finally landed on the older man being held back by security, who were pushing him towards the door, his ripped and torn duffel bag swinging everywhere as he tried to push past them, his eyes set on Maria and his mind unsatisfied until he could hear a definite response from her. Maria was used to this, the pestering male reporters who would sell a kidney to extract any celebrity gossip they could to write a fake article. She couldn't ignore him any longer and decided to address the video once and once only.

"It is true that Mr. Ivanov and I were once in a relationship." That earned a mass of gasps and whispers as if it wasn't obvious enough in the video. She held a stern and strong look on her face. "This does not impact our now professional relationship or the Grand Performance. Our focus at Dream now is to simply create art and art only." Maria tried her best to maintain a poker face that almost fell the moment her eyes reached Leonardo's.

She had forgotten about him; Leonardo's reaction. Her heart was twisting in her chest, and she immediately froze. Regret was all that she felt. Her colour drained from her face. Leonardo had seen it all. He was standing in the corner alone with a look that wasn't negative but yet extremely difficult to decipher. Her breath hitched; in the midst of it all, he had seen enough. She quickly lost contact with his hazel eyes, her eyes reaching the clock once more as she pushed through with her speech.

"But nonetheless, I'd like to express my greatest gratitude..."

It was after her speech that Maria sought to find Leonardo. He wasn't in the same spot as before.

"Maria," Camille had approached her through the crowd of people.

The last thing Maria wanted to do was socialise even more—she just needed to find Leonardo and clear things up. The evening had turned into shambles.

"Francis had to leave. Something came up—are you okay, honey? What a shit show. That was really humiliating." Her hand squeezed Maria's shoulder as she almost sickly sweetly smiled and sympathetically gazed at her; Camille's face was too close to Maria's. There were so many people around them, talking about her, drinking, laughing, and moving around the room as the gala was drawing to an end. Maria felt the heat within her; the immense attention and claustrophobia of having so many humans in one room was starting to get to her—she had to leave before her mind had the chance to panic. She didn't need another panic attack to ruin the night even more in such an environment.

"Of course not," she retorted slightly too strongly. Maria almost felt as though her sympathy was too much. Camille's shining eyes were gazing so intently into hers, her lips pouted slightly as though she had pity for Maria. It almost felt as though Camille was thriving in the midst of her dishonor. But Maria felt bad and thought she was being too infuriated, unable to see that Camille was just trying to help.
"Sorry, Camille, my head's all over the place." Camille shook her head, empathising with her.

"I'll call you later. Thanks for coming, but I need to find Leo," Maria remorsefully said, about to continue her search for him until Camille helped by saying, "I understand. I think I saw him head upstairs. You might find him there."

Maria gave her a brief smile, thankful. "Thanks, Cammy. Head home safely."

She followed Camille's words and headed up to the next floor, quickly pulling up her dress and jogging along in her heels to find him urgently, desperate to make sure they were okay. She felt the gush of the cool wind hit her as she moved, the chills heading down her legs.

Her eyes wandered around the place, finally locating Leonardo, who was standing by the window, his broad back, which looked even bigger in his suit, facing Maria. She skipped a breath and paused momentarily at the sight of him, alone with his hands in each pocket, staring at the city below.

Maria let go of her dress and slowly approached Leonardo, swallowing roughly. Her heels clacked against the marble floor as she moved, her hips naturally swaying as she walked in the tight dress.

Finally standing beside Leonardo, she looked at him from the side, biting her bottom lip. Leonardo glanced over to see the intruder to his silence, relaxing at the presence of Maria. "Are you okay?" Leonardo warmly asked. The softness of his tone surprised her. She blinked a few times as her eyebrows creased at his sweetness. "I'm fine," she honestly answered, a quietness to her tone.

She sighed, looking into his eyes. "Should you be asking me that? I should be asking you—are you okay? I'm sorry you had to see that." Leonardo shrugged; a small smile came on his face as his eyes went back to the dark night's view before them. "As good as I can be," was all he answered with. There wasn't a single tone of sarcasm that Maria expected there to be. She once again wasn't used to being with a laid-back and understanding person.

Maria folded her arms and stared hard ahead, a frustrated look making her jaw tighten as she reminded herself of Jorge.

"He's...kind of my ex," Maria finally told him, a bitter and irritated tone coming from her. "We weren't really a thing. We used to fuck. No. He used to fuck. I broke it off; he was too controlling—a psychopath." He nodded slowly, listening to her finally speak her mind that night. His jaw clenched a little as he thought of the idea of that man with her, even intimately being with her. He was no good.

"Why didn't you ask?"

"You didn't say."

Maria's eyebrows creased slightly as she finally turned to look into his understanding, hazel eyes. Her lips parted in slight confusion at his words.
Leonardo moved his eyes to stare out the window again before adding, "You didn't tell me, so I waited. It's not my business until you say." Maria wasn't used to that; the politeness, the respect, and the level of trust Leonardo had in her were almost too daunting to comprehend.

Maria could cry. She felt her heart twist inside, unsure of how to feel with his deep tenderness. "You're not mad that I didn't tell you I have a past with the male lead? I mean, I never said anything because I didn't think it was important until tonight..." She sighed and closed her eyes tiredly in remorse. "It honestly never felt relevant. I'm sorry, and I'm sorry you found it this way, and I'm sorry it was in front of all those people. I'm a shit fiancée—girlfriend," she corrected, still feeling her mind was all over the place.

He would be lying if he wasn't slightly upset that she hadn't told him, but he quickly let go of those emotions. Leonardo turned to her again and shook his head. "Don't worry about it, and you're not," he refuted, taking her hand and gently pulling her closer, intertwining their fingers together. He deciphered her tenseness, hoping his presence would calm her. She sighed again, hesitating. His fingers gently rubbed her soft hand. "I trust you, and you trust me. If it's not important to you, that means there's nothing between the two of you. It's you and I that matter; nothing else."

You trust me too much, Maria thought to herself, her heart aching at his sweetness. She didn't feel like she deserved it. Maria gazed at him, hoping she wouldn't get emotional. She bit her bottom lip, appreciating his gentleness. "And I can't wait to put that ring on your finger," Leonardo gently said, his hand rubbing her left finger as he smiled. "It won't be long."

Maria broke out into a smile and hoped the tears wouldn't well into her eyes as she felt the stinging begin. She nodded, softly letting out a laugh. "I wouldn't mind that, mi amore." He leaned in and tenderly kissed her cheek, smiling at her. Would it be possible? She questioned herself, her chest stuffy. Would he still want to after he found out?

She loved him; Maria loved him so much that it hurt. It was painful looking at his face day by day and being unable to share the truth. "I love you," Maria softly said once again that night, in a slight, cracked tone, feeling her heart swell inside.

"So, so much, Leo." He stroked her cheek and gazed at her, leaving butterflies in her heart.

But Leonardo knew there was something with Jorge that didn't sit right with him. He was able to mask his true feelings before Maria. He could sense that he had some strange vibes around him that he didn't feel comfortable leaving Maria around. Seeing her alone in that room with him already provided him with the impressions that alone were enough to question Jorge. She could handle it, he knew. But she shouldn't have to. Leonardo knew he had to intervene.

Leonardo had seen them in the dressing room earlier; the moment the knife entered Jorge, Leonardo was watching from the crack of the door opening, hearing the entire conversation. He desperately wanted to intervene, but he knew Maria was capable enough to handle it as much as he desired to rip Jorge's head off and feed it to crows for ever speaking or looking at her in that way. For some reason, it seemed to feel like a discussion he was not supposed to be a part of.

There was something, something between them that went beyond their ex-relationship; he could feel it.

Whatever it was, Leonardo wouldn't rest until it was solved. He wouldn't let Maria know; she had enough to think about. It would be for him to find out, not as Leonardo, but as the Don of the mafia.

No one would touch his woman and get away with it.

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~ Author's Note ~

Maria made it clear to Jorge that she is not one to be played around with. But how far will this protect her from the revelation of the truth?

Maria felt that Camille seemed a little strange earlier. Was that just because she was stressed? Or was Camille actually acting weird?

Leonardo initially seemed almost too chill about the video. Maria's suspicious behaviour is now something he cannot ignore. The ending of this chapter clearly shows his true intentions.

Let's just say the next few chapters are going to be quite intense.

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