HER ITALIAN BODYGUARD

4. TRUTH BOMB

CHAPTER FOUR: TRUTH BOMB

Here I am again, bombarded by a sea of flashing cameras as I strike poses on the red carpet, Mark’s arm wrapped protectively around my waist. The clicks and flashes are relentless, each photographer vying for the perfect shot. We’re at the premiere of a movie Mark had financed, part of his recent venture into the film industry. He’s been dipping his toes into various business areas lately, and this latest project seems to have all the makings of a success.

Inside the theater, I find myself sandwiched between Mark on my left and Evelyn on my right, her fiancé Ron seated beside her. I’ve only met Ron once before during a company dinner. He seemed more on the quiet, soft-spoken side. I think Evelyn mentioned he works as a sports reporter for the national TV network. He seemed nice, very opposite Evelyn’s sharp, commanding presence.

The lights dim, and the movie begins. From the opening scene, it’s clear this is no ordinary production. The visuals are stunning, the story gripping. I ahve to agree he made the right investment with this one. By the time the credits roll, the entire audience erupts into applause. I’m certain it will be a box-office hit when it officially releases.

After the screening, we’re back under the glare of cameras, pausing for a few more photos and giving short interviews. Mark answers questions effortlessly, his charm on full display. Just as I’m beginning to relax, Evelyn swoops in, grabbing Mark’s arm and pulling him away. “There’s someone you need to meet,” she says over her shoulder, her voice brisk and unapologetic.

And just like that, I’m left standing awkwardly beside Ron. He looks at me, then pulls a silver flask from his jacket pocket, taking a swig before offering it to me. I decline with a polite shake of my head, but that’s when I notice the slight flush on his cheeks and the unsteadiness of his movements. He’s tipsy, if not outright drunk.

“You’d think they’d forget about work on a night like this,” I say, breaking the silence with a nervous laugh. We are standing in the parking lot, waiting for Mark and Evelyn. I could get in the car but it feels almost impolite to just leave Ron standing there completely alone.

Ron lets out a scoff, shaking his head as he takes another sip from his flask. “Work?” he repeats, his tone dripping with disdain. He glances at me, his eyes heavy with something between pity and frustration. “You do know this isn’t about work, right?”

I frown, my chest tightening. “I don’t follow.”

He leans closer, his voice dropping but his words cutting through the noise around us like a blade. “Open your f*****g eyes. They’re sleeping together.”

For a moment, my mind goes completely blank. His words echo in my head, too loud to ignore but too surreal to comprehend. My lips move, but no sound comes out. Finally, I manage to whisper, “What?”

Ron’s gaze doesn’t waver. “Evelyn and Mark,” he says flatly, as if the repetition might make it more real for me. “You think she drags him off for ‘work’ every chance she gets because she’s that dedicated to the job? Come on.”

My breath catches, and I feel my chest tighten further. The room around me seems to fade, the chatter of the crowd turning into a dull drone. I try to speak, to argue, to deny what he’s saying, but the lump in my throat makes it impossible.

Ron shrugs, tipping his flask toward me in mock salute. “Sorry to be the one to tell you. But someone had to. You don’t believe me, have a look for yourself,”

He shows me his phone and its a full on make out picture of my husband and Evelyn, “Someone sent me this photo this morning. Just when I was making the final payments for our wedding,”

The ground beneath me feels unsteady, like the carefully constructed world I’ve built is beginning to crack at the edges. I glance toward where Mark and Evelyn disappeared, my heart pounding in my chest.

“Excuse me,” I manage to say, my voice barely above a whisper. The words feel brittle, as though they might shatter under the weight of my emotions. I push past Ron, my steps unsteady but determined, heading toward where Mark and Evelyn had disappeared moments ago.

I have no idea what I’m doing or what I expect to find. My mind is racing, a chaotic mess of doubt, anger, and the faintest sliver of hope that Ron was wrong. But my heart? It’s pounding so hard I feel like it might burst.

I weave through the crowd, ignoring the laughter and clinking glasses, barely noticing the people calling out my name. All I know is that I have to see it for myself, to confirm or disprove the words Ron just hurled at me like a dagger. I want it to be fabricated lie. Or perhaps a misunderstanding of sorts. My Mark, the man I’ve known forever, would never do that me.

Turning the corner, I find myself stepping into a garden bathed in soft, golden light from the overhead lanterns. The air is cool, carrying the faint scent of roses and freshly mown grass. For a fleeting moment, I think maybe I’ll find them deep in conversation, discussing something innocent, something work-related, and I’ll laugh at myself for even entertaining Ron’s accusations. I mean, he was drunk and maybe that picture was probably AI- generated. That this was all a f*****g lie.

But that hope crumbles in an instant.

There, just a few feet away, is Mark. My Mark. The man that swore forever with me. The man who makes forget other men exist in this f*****g world. He has Evelyn pinned against the ivy-covered wall, his hands gripping her hips as though he can’t bear to let go. Their faces are pressed together in a kiss so heated, so consuming, it’s as though they’ve forgotten the world around them exists. Forgotten that I exist. That Ron exists.

The scene slams into me like a freight train, knocking the air from my lungs. I feel frozen in place, my feet rooted to the ground while my mind screams at me to move, to do something.

The betrayal is like a physical blow, sharp and suffocating. My chest tightens, my throat burns, and for a moment, I feel like I might collapse under the weight of it.

“Mark,” I whisper, my voice so faint it gets lost in the rustle of the wind through the garden.

Neither of them notices me. They’re too wrapped up in each other, their movements urgent and unrestrained, like they’ve done this a hundred times before.

Something inside me snaps, the pain giving way to a simmering rage. My legs finally obey, and I take a step forward, my heels clicking loudly on the cobblestone path.

That sound is what finally pulls them apart. Mark turns first, his face flushed, his expression shifting from passion to something that looks a lot like panic. Evelyn steps away from the wall, smoothing her dress with trembling hands, avoiding my gaze entirely.

“Gina,” Mark says, his voice filled with a mix of shock and guilt. He takes a step toward me, as though he’s going to try to explain, to spin some story that might make this seem like it isn’t what it so clearly is.

But I hold up a hand, stopping him in his tracks. My chest heaves as I fight to hold back tears, my vision blurred with the sting of betrayal.

“Don’t,” I say, my voice trembling but firm. “Don’t you dare say a word.”

For a moment, none of us move. Finally, I turn on my heel and walk away, my steps quick and unrelenting.

The world around me feels distant and unreal, the sounds of the party muted as though I’m underwater. But one thing is painfully, heartbreakingly clear: everything I thought I knew, everything I believed about my marriage, has just shattered into a million pieces.