Elena’s POV
"What happened to you two?" I asked, my voice trembling but trying to stay steady. "Ever since Clara stepped into your lives, into this family, everything has changed. The loyalty and care I once felt from both of you… it’s gone. And I thought I mattered to you. But now, since she showed up, why has everything changed? Why are you two acting like this now? It’s so unfair."
I tried to hold myself together, to keep my voice from breaking, but the weight of it all was too much. I refused to break down in front of them, but as I looked at their cold, expressionless faces, it felt like they didn't care. It hurt more than I thought possible.
"We don't care about you anymore, Elena," Enzo said, his voice as cold as ice. "You can stay here for as long as you want, but you have to apologize to Clara for what you did—humiliating her and hurting her. Or we’ll sue you. We’ll do anything to protect her."
His words hit me like a slap. I stepped back, feeling like the ground had been ripped from beneath me. I couldn’t even recognize the man in front of me. I remembered the days when Enzo was playful, kind-hearted—someone I could trust. But now? It was like he was a stranger.
It was so easy for them to just dismiss me, to tell me to leave.
I looked at Marco, hoping, maybe, just maybe, he’d say something—anything to stop this, to show that there was still something left between us. But instead, he avoided my gaze, dismissing me without a single word. It stung, more than I expected. My heart dropped, and for a moment, I felt invisible.
Then my eyes moved back to Enzo. His face was empty, no emotion, no warmth. It was like the decision had already been made—there was no place for me here anymore.
"Okay, fine," I said, my voice trembling with a mix of hurt and pride. "If you want me to leave, then I will leave."
"Go," Enzo replied coldly, his words slicing through the air, his tone sharp and final. "And we are not going to stop you."
I marched up the stairs, each step heavier than the last, my heart sinking with every thought of the conversation I just had with Marco and Enzo.
As soon as I slammed the door to my room, it felt like I was shutting the last door on whatever was left of my relationship with them. I was angry—angry at how easily they dismissed me, as if I were nothing.
I grabbed my suitcase, the weight of the situation crushing me, and as I started packing, I couldn’t hold back the tears. The zipper on my suitcase felt like it was mocking me as I dug through my things.
"I can’t believe them," I whispered to myself, feeling every word cut deep. "They threw me aside… just like that."
But then, as I continued to pack, I realized something that made my heart skip a beat—where were the gifts? The designer bag Marco had given me, the expensive stilettos from Enzo—everything was gone.
Where is it?
Panic bubbled up in my chest, and I couldn’t stop myself from tossing things aside in frustration. It was as if my memories, my life here, had vanished into thin air. I searched the entire room frantically, but they were nowhere to be found.
Those gifts were expensive, meaningful. They were from them. And now, they were gone.
A thought crept into my mind, and it was too hard to ignore. Clara. It had to be her. She was the only one who could’ve taken them, or at least convinced them to give everything to her.
A fresh wave of anger surged through me. I threw another item aside. What did it matter anymore? What difference did it make if Clara had taken what was mine or if they’d just given everything to her? They obviously didn’t care about me anymore.
I was done.
