Lucia’s POV
Because my body had been broken again and again, it never had the chance to properly heal. The reckoning came fast and merciless.
I burned with fever.
For three full days, I drifted in and out of consciousness, trapped between pain and dreams. My body lay helpless on the safe-house cot, but something deeper in me was dragged far away, into memories I had long tried to bury.
The dream was warm.
Too warm.
Golden light spilled everywhere, gentle and forgiving. In it, I was never abandoned.
My parents had never taken Adriana into the Family. In this world, there was only me, their blood-daughter, their pride, the future Signora of the Barsanti name. My mother smiled at me the way she used to when I was little, smoothing my hair and telling me I was precious. My father’s hand rested on my shoulder, steady and protective, as if no enemy in the world could ever touch me.
And Bruno…
Bruno was still the boy who used to wait outside my door every morning, patient, so he could walk me to school. He had always stayed close back then, guarding me on instinct long before either of us understood what an arranged alliance was meant to become.
In the dream, he made his promise beneath an old rose arbor, the kind kept for the vows that bound two Families. He said he would make me his, his Signora, his forever. Our union was sealed in the garden, moonlight pouring down as the old men of the Commission gave their blessing.
Later, we had a child.
A small, warm bundle with Bruno’s eyes and my quiet.
We were happy. Whole.
Then the light went out.
Without warning, the warmth shattered. The smiles on my parents’ faces twisted into something cold and unfamiliar. Bruno’s hand, once so warm, turned icy, slipping from mine as though I had never mattered.
They stood together at the edge of a cliff.
Laughing.
And then they pushed me.
I fell into endless darkness, something inside me howling in terror as the bond snapped, the pain ripping through me like claws tearing flesh.
I woke with a sharp gasp, my chest heaving violently.
My eyes flew open to an empty room.
White walls. A monitor beeping somewhere near my head. No familiar scent. No one keeping watch over me.
My body felt unbearably heavy, as though my bones had been filled with lead. Pain throbbed through my shoulder, deep and relentless. When I tried to sit up, my arm trembled violently, numb and useless.
Gritting my teeth, I tore the needle from the back of my hand and slid off the cot.
The floor felt cold beneath my bare feet.
As I stepped into the hallway, faint voices drifted toward me from the desk where the off-the-books physician’s people kept their vigil.
“Did you see the two Barsanti girls?”
“Of course. Their situations couldn’t be more different.”
“Adriana barely had a scratch on her, but the Don and the Signora sat with her day and night. And Bruno Ferraro never left her side.”
There was a pause.
“Meanwhile, Lucia was half-dead. Three days out cold. Not a single visitor.”
Their words were quiet, but painfully clear.
Each syllable cut into my chest like a blade.
My knees weakened, but I braced myself against the wall. Something in me stirred faintly, wounded but awake, as if reminding me not to collapse here.
Without hesitation, I walked to the desk, signed myself out against every objection, and left.
No one tried to stop me.
When I returned to the Barsanti estate, the silence was unnatural. The house that once smelled of Sunday dinner and shared blood felt hollow, empty of warmth.
I went straight to my room and began packing.
There wasn’t much.
Just one small suitcase.
That was everything I owned in this house.
After finishing, I went downstairs for water. Before I reached the sitting room, laughter drifted in from the front hall.
They were back.
My parents came in first, carefully steadying Adriana as she limped inside like a fragile porcelain doll. Bruno followed close behind, his eyes filled with unmistakable tenderness as he watched her every step.
They talked and laughed, their voices light, as if nothing had happened.
As if I hadn’t almost died.
When they saw me, Bruno froze. For a brief moment, something like heartache flickered in his eyes as he took in my pale face and the way I held myself upright by will alone.
But before he could speak, my mother crossed the floor toward me, her expression sharp and accusing.
“Lucia, what is wrong with you?” she snapped. “Why didn’t you send word you were discharging yourself? Do you have any idea how worried we were?”
My father joined in at once. “Adriana already explained everything. She said she lost her footing and dragged you toward the flames by accident. Out of guilt, she pushed you clear to save you!”
“And you. Walking out of there alone like this. Making a scene again?”
Adriana lowered her head, looking weak and pitiful.
But I saw it.
The faint, triumphant curve of her lips. And then, so smooth I almost missed it, her hand rose to tuck back a strand of hair that had never fallen out of place.
She was looking at me the way a victor surveys the battlefield.
Something inside me finally broke.
I laughed. Soft at first. Then bitter.
“Worried about me?” I asked quietly. “So worried that in three days of my lying there half-dead, not one of you came to see me even once?”
My gaze shifted to Adriana, cold and unblinking.
“Lost your footing again?” I said flatly. “You really do come up with new stories quickly.”
For the first time, I didn’t lower my head.
I looked at them like strangers.
The room had gone very quiet. My fingers found the thin scar on my wrist and pressed it once, the only inheritance this family had ever given me.
“Watch your precious daughter carefully,” I warned, my voice calm but sharp. “If she lays a hand on me again, I won’t hold back. If I am unhappy, she won’t be happy either.”
Their faces twisted with shock and fury. I didn’t care.
I turned and walked upstairs without looking back.
This house. This name. These people.
They were no longer worth even a single heartbeat of my life.
