Two weeks.
That’s all it took for Leonardo to wipe her existence clean—as if Clara had never taken her first breath, never laughed, never called me mama.
The Massino empire’s pride—their grand hotel—glittered against the night skyline, every window reflecting wealth and power like it belonged to another universe entirely. Inside, crystal chandeliers blazed above a sea of tailored suits and painted smiles. Glasses clinked. Laughter echoed.
And beneath a gilded banner stretched across the ballroom, the words mocked me in bold, golden letters:
WELCOME HOME, Ariana & Cristian.
My hands curled into fists at my sides. Clara had been gone for just fourteen days. Fourteen. And yet Leonardo was hosting a celebration as if her death meant nothing— as if my grief were a nuisance he couldn’t wait to silence.
I shoved past the guards before they could stop me. My heels struck the marble floor like gunshots, my vision tunneling straight toward the stage.
There he was. Leonardo Massino—every inch the ruthless king in his tailored black suit, power radiating from his every move. And beside him stood her—Ariana, wrapped in crimson silk, her hand clutching his arm like she’d earned it. She looked radiant. Victorious. Unbothered by the fact that the child I bore for him was lying cold beneath the earth.
Rage surged through my veins, blinding and raw. I didn’t think. I simply moved.
The sound of my hand striking her face cracked through the room like thunder. Gasps rippled around us as Ariana’s head snapped to the side. Shock flashed across her face—then vanished, replaced by a trembling pout.
“Luciana—” Leonardo’s voice was a whip, sharp and cold.
But I wasn’t done. “How dare you?” I spat, trembling with fury. “You’re out here toasting to your happiness while our daughter rots in the ground?” My voice broke, the pain clawing up my throat. “You didn’t even give me a month, Leonardo. Not even a damn month. And now you flaunt your mistress as if she’s your crown jewel?”
Ariana’s eyes glistened before she collapsed theatrically, sobbing. “She hit me!” she wailed, clutching her cheek. “She attacked me in front of everyone! Leonardo, please—make her stop!”
The crowd watched in stunned silence. Leonardo’s jaw tightened, fury simmering beneath the surface.
Then—
A small voice cut through the chaos.
“Don’t touch my mama!”
Cristian. His precious son.
The boy charged at me, his fists beating against my stomach. “You’re evil!” he screamed, tears streaking his face. “You hurt her! Papa doesn’t love you anymore!” His foot connected hard with my ribs.
The pain knocked the air from my lungs, but I didn’t lift a hand to stop him. He was just a child—her child. Still, every word stabbed deeper than any blow.
And then, through the blur of tears, I saw it. Ariana’s lips curled—just slightly. A smirk. Triumph glittered in her eyes before she buried her face into Leonardo’s chest again, sobbing prettily.
“She’s trying to destroy us,” she whispered between fake tears. “She can’t stand that you love me now.”
Leonardo’s hands balled into fists. I knew that look. I knew what came next.
The slap came before I could breathe.
My head jerked to the side, pain bursting across my cheek. The room fell deathly silent. When I looked back at him, there was no remorse in his eyes—only ice. The man I’d once loved was gone, replaced by a stranger wearing his face.
“This ends tonight,” he said flatly.
Something hit the floor in front of me. Papers. I stared down—and felt my stomach twist.
Divorce papers.
And mixed in with them—photographs.
Dozens of them. Me. Naked. In bed. With men I’d never seen before.
I froze. “What… what is this?”
Leonardo’s expression hardened into disgust. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out?” he hissed. “You’ve been sleeping with my rivals. Betraying me for scraps of power.”
“No,” I whispered. “Leonardo, they’re fake. I swear—”
Ariana clung tighter to him, her voice trembling perfectly. “Leonardo, please… not here. She’s already made a fool of herself.”
My gaze snapped to her. That smirk again. Faint, but there. She had orchestrated all of it—the photos, the lies, the destruction.
“After everything,” I whispered hoarsely. “After Clara?”
For a heartbeat, something flickered in his eyes—pain, maybe. Then nothing.
“I don’t care anymore, Luciana,” he said, his tone final. “Sign the papers.”
My chest constricted. He had chosen. Chosen her.
I straightened slowly, my tears drying into something colder. “You’ll regret this,” I said quietly.
Leonardo turned away, dismissing me as if I were a ghost.
And as I stood there—humiliated, betrayed, surrounded by the whispers of the powerful—I realized something with chilling clarity.
Leonardo Massino, the man I once called my husband, was gone.
And if he thought I would crumble and disappear…
He was about to learn just how dangerous grief could be.
