He Called Me Ugly. I Became His Biggest Regret. Chapter 05

He Called Me Ugly. I Became His Biggest Regret. Chapter 05

Manhattan. 

The hotel room. 

Outside the window, high–rises and crisscrossing streets 

reflected off the Hudson River. So bright. So alive. 

It was genuinely hard to remember Marco DeLuca’s name 

against a view like this. 

My phone buzzed. 

Valentina. 

Instagram DM. 

Three requests, back to back. 

Each one maxing out the character limit. 

“Bianchi, I’m Val Rossi. I’m sorry. PLEASE make up with Marco. 

I’m begging you. He won’t eat – he’s only drinking. He’s in 

the ER right now. Acute gastritis. He could die.” 

“That post – I’M the one who sent it to the gossip account. 

The nasty comments about you? I paid for those. His photo 

was taken without him knowing. All me. He’s innocent. He’s truly innocent. The only one he’s ever liked – it’s always 

been you. I swear on my life.” 

“I’ll swear anything. On my mother. On my Family’s 

Commission seat. May lightning strike me dead if I’m lying. 

Just please save him.” 

So touching. 

So emotional. 

I accepted the request. 

“I know you saw my comment on that post. So you already 

know every word I wrote there is true. I have no feelings 

– 

for Marco DeLuca. At all. Not then. Not now. Not ever.” 

“He’s not eating? He’s drinking himself into the ER? He’s suffering? That’s so tragic. Truly.” 

– 

“But genuinely – what does any of that have to do with 

me?” 

Then I blocked her too. 

Outside the window, Manhattan glittered like a galaxy. The high–rises. The lights. The vast, Marco–free future. 

It was genuinely hard to remember him against a view like 

this. 

I came back with bright orange hair. 

Big waves. 

Like a flame. 

My mom said I looked like one super star. 

My dad said nothing but smiled. 

I loved my hair. 

It felt like armor. 

The DeLuca–Bianchi engagement was quietly dissolved. 

No announcement. 

No drama. 

My father handled it the way a great consigliere handles 

everything discreetly, completely, no loose ends. 

– 

Marco was falling apart. 

The Commission had noticed his behavior – dancing with 

another woman at his own engagement party, leaving his 

fiancée alone at the edge of the ballroom. 

A consigliere’s daughter. 

Publicly snubbed. 

Word traveled fast. 

By the time he sobered up, his reputation had taken damage. 

no flowers could fix. 

He called. 

He wrote letters. 

He had his father call my father. 

He tried everything. 

I left every attempt unanswered. 

One afternoon. 

A café in Midtown. 

Marco walked in with one of his soldiers. 

– 

He glanced at me the orange hair, the new posture 

dismissed me. 

Didn’t recognize me at all. Sat down two tables away. 

and 

I kept my face still. Turned on my phone’s voice recorder. 

His friend spoke first: “Marco. We need to talk. Seriously. We’ve been watching you self–destruct. What is actually going on? First we all thought you and Bianchi were 

endgame. Then Rossi transferred in and suddenly you ask us to set up that Truth or Dare specifically so you could call 

– 

Lucia ugly right in front of Val. After the gala, when you and Val went to that hotel, we figured you’d finally locked it 

down. But now you’ve cut her off and you’re begging Bianchi 

back. What do you actually want?” 

Marco let out a long breath. “Lucia. It’s Never Valentina.” 

“I had no choice. If I didn’t prove myself to Val like that, she 

wouldn’t sleep with me. A full year of investment. All those 

afternoons. All those gifts. All those texts. A year of work. 

For nothing.” 

“I just didn’t expect Val to get greedy. She wanted to go 

public. Posted those photos everywhere. That’s what set 

Lucia off. If it had just been the ‘you’re ugly‘ thing I 

would’ve had her calmed down within a week.” 

His friend leaned in: “So what actually happened with Rossi? 

Details.”