Diana’s POV
“What nonsense are you talking about?”
Eduardo’s voice thundered across the room, sharp enough to make the guards outside shift slightly. Even inside his private wing, nothing escaped the notice of the Ricci security.
I watched his face darken, the familiar cold authority settling over him — the same expression that made rival families lower their heads and smugglers tremble.
But I didn’t look away.
“It’s the eighth year, Eduardo,” I repeated calmly. “I want to leave.”
His jaw tightened.
“What’s your problem, Diana? Why are you making a scene?” he said, lowering his voice, though the edge remained. “I already told you—Lucan is just a child. Don’t take what he did to heart. Today is his birthday. Come with me. I’ll discipline him later.”
He reached for my wrist, gripping it with the same firm hand that once signed death orders and negotiated territory disputes.
But I pulled my hand back.
“You said when he turns eight, I can leave,” I said quietly. “So why am I making a fuss now?”
Before he could answer, a sharp, cutting voice came from behind us.
“Diana, how shameless can you be? Always trying to steal attention—even on the little boy’s birthday!”
I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.
Sarah.
My stepmother. Valerie’s mother. Lucan’s grandmother.
She walked toward us in an elegant dark dress, her expression full of disdain. Behind her, two bodyguards from her own family stood silently. Even in Eduardo’s territory, she still carried her own protection.
Old habits of mafia families never died.
“I’m not stealing attention, Sarah,” I said calmly. “You’re the one who said I could leave after eight years.”
She scoffed loudly.
“Must you talk about this today? On my grandson’s birthday?”
“It’s fine,” Eduardo cut in smoothly, stepping between us. “I’m sure Diana didn’t mean it.”
Years ago, I would’ve blushed at his defense.
Now, I knew better.
This wasn’t protection.
It was damage control.
The Ricci heir’s birthday party was filled with influential figures — allies, underground brokers, businessmen laundering money under the table. A scandal now would weaken Eduardo’s standing.
“Come,” Eduardo said, lowering his voice as he reached for my hand again. “Let’s go to the party.”
This time, I didn’t resist.
I let him lead me toward the grand hall.
The party was already in full swing.
Crystal chandeliers glittered overhead, while armed guards lined the walls discreetly. Expensive suits, designer gowns, and whispers of business deals filled the air.
Lucan sat at the center, surrounded by children of powerful families—sons and daughters of crime lords, politicians, and financiers.
But the moment he saw me, his smile disappeared.
“Look, Lucan, your mother is here,” one of the guests joked lightly.
Lucan’s face twisted immediately.
“She’s not my mother!”
The room grew quieter.
Eduardo sighed and pulled Lucan closer.
“We don’t say things like that,” he said firmly. “Diana is your mother. She’s taken care of you all these years.”
Lucan’s eyes burned with anger.
“No! She can never be my mother!” he shouted.
Then he pointed at me.
“Everyone, this woman killed my mother.”
Whispers spread instantly across the hall.
“She’s the boy’s aunt, right?”
“Why does the child hate her so much?”
“Maybe she doesn’t treat him well…”
The murmurs cut deeper than knives.
“Apologize to her,” Eduardo said sternly.
I stopped him.
“It’s alright,” I said quietly. “It doesn’t matter.”
And it really didn’t.
Not anymore.
With calm steps, I turned and walked out of the hall.
Eight years ago, those words would’ve shattered me.
Now, they were just… familiar.
No matter what I did, Eduardo’s heart belonged to Valerie.
And Lucan would always believe I stole his mother’s place.
“Why would you create a scene today?”
Sarah’s sharp voice cut through my thoughts as she stepped into the corridor.
“What do you want, Sarah?” I asked tiredly. “I’ve played my part for eight years. I’m done.”
“You should take care of Lucan like your own son,” she snapped. “Put up with his temper and spoil him. If my daughter were alive, he would be treated much better.”
I shrugged, exhaustion settling into my bones.
“Pity,” I said quietly. “Your daughter is dead.”
Her face twisted with rage.
She raised her hand to slap me—
But I caught her wrist mid-air.
Her eyes widened.
“Don’t try that, Sarah,” I said coldly. “I’m not in the mood today.”
I tightened my grip slightly.
“Eight years ago, you forced me to come here. The contract is over. Lucan is eight now. I have every right to leave.”
I released her wrist.
She pulled her hand back, glaring at me while rubbing the sore spot.
“Do whatever you want,” she hissed. “This is why no one will ever love you. Not even your father wants to see you.”
She turned and walked away.
A sad smile formed on my lips.
Eight years.
It had been eight years since my father last saw me.
After Valerie died… I stopped being his daughter.
“I’m sorry… I got you a gift.”
A small voice spoke behind me.
I turned around.
Lucan stood there, smiling sweetly.
He held a wrapped gift box in both hands.
I blinked, surprised.
“I was happy to,” he giggled. “Please open it.”
I hesitated for a second… then took the box.
Slowly, I opened it.
A foul smell hit me immediately.
My breath caught.
Inside the box… was my cat.
Lifeless.
An arrow pierced through its tiny body, blood dried along its fur.
My fingers trembled.
“That will be you soon,” Lucan giggled softly.
“If you don’t leave me and my father alone.”
