I stood there blankly. My heart was pounding in my chest. My gaze was fixed at Gracia with a cold fury I could no longer hide.
"Two years ago, you were the ones who begged me in tears to protect your son," I said, my voice trembling with anger. "You told me that if I did, I'd be the savior of this family and that you'd repay me. You promised."
The weight of the words hung heavily in the air. Subconsciously, I took a slow step forward, my pulse racing. "I just got out and reached home. Here already... I'm a burden?"
I could feel the years of sacrifice crashing down on me. Each memory felt like a glass digging into my flesh.
"Two years ago, I handed over my father's entire legacy to Luca. Everything was for a temporary time," I continued, my voice rising. "I gave up everything for all of you. I saw the family fortune passing into his hands. I trusted you’d keep it safe. But what do I get in return? A roof over my head, or a place in this family?"
Luca shifted, his face pinched in frustration, and his voice sliced through the tension. "Victoria, I know you're upset, but it hasn’t been easy for any of us either. I hope you will try to understand us."
The person for whom I had given my life to protect was now looking at me like I was the enemy. Like I was the reason for all his miseries.
I stared at him in disbelief. I was churning in my gut, and said in a low voice, “Luca Bianchi, don’t forget who actually should have been behind bars. The one who put this family in trouble is you, not me."
His face twisted with anger, but I didn't stop. I was done holding back.
"You think it was easy for me? Do you think I enjoyed being shoved into prison for your mistake? You let me take the fall, and now you dare to blame me for your shame?" My voice dripped with contempt. My hands were trembling.
Two years ago, the crash had been a simple mistake, but the consequences were unbearable. Luca and Celestia had been speeding, driving in the wrong direction in my car when they hit and killed a rival mafia boss’s son—someone no one could afford to cross.
But instead of taking responsibility, Luca turned to me. The family begged me to take the fall for him. They said his position in the family, his marriage, his life—everything—would fall apart if he were to go to prison.
They promised me that once I got out, everything would be repaid. That I’d get the legacy back, that I’d get to take my rightful place in the family.
I was foolish enough to believe it.
I spat the words out with as much venom as I could muster, “I didn’t do it for reward, Luca. I did it because I trusted you. I trusted the family. But look where that got me. I handed over my father’s legacy, his empire, for two years. And now, you’re telling me I don’t even deserve a place here?”
Luca's eyes narrowed, and he glared at me as if I were the enemy, the traitor. "What more do you want, Victoria?" he hissed. "I’ve already thanked you for taking the blame. But this house is under my name now, and Celestia's pregnant."
"There’s no room for you. You need to get out. We can’t keep supporting someone who won’t pull their weight."
The sting of his words was sharp. All my sacrifices, my loyalty, my pain, and for what? A thank you? A thank you that wasn’t even genuine?
Within seconds, Gracia joined in, her voice cold as stone. "Victoria, you’re not some princess in this family. A woman’s purpose is to marry well, have children, and stay in her place. You’re nothing but an ex-convict now. No one will want you. Your past is too stained. If we let you stay here, it’s out of mercy. Don't push it."
Celestia stood beside her, and added further, “You’ll always be poor. After everything you’ve done, there’s no coming back. You’ll drain us dry if we let you stay.”
Each word felt like a slap to my face. "I've no place to go," I whispered.
"You aren't understanding, Victoria." Luca paused. "We don't owe you anything. Moreover, I am done. Move out, or I’ll make you move out." His eyes were cold, the same icy blue that had once been full of brotherly affection, now filled with venom.
There was a gun in his hand. Within seconds, he pointed it at my head.
His finger hovering dangerously near the trigger. The gun glinted in the light. The sight sent a chill down my spine.
"You won't," I whispered, though I wasn’t sure if I was asking or daring him.
"Dare me."
