I had even imagined choosing between the DeLuca brothers, thinking that one of them would eventually be the one for me.
But now, I finally understood the truth.
To them, I had never been anything more than a passing amusement. Something temporary. Something easily replaced.
I should have walked away long ago.
I unlocked my phone, intending to book a plane ticket and leave as soon as possible. But before I could do that, Serena's latest post on Instagram caught my attention.
The caption read: "True love needs no words. Only useless old women would scheme to climb up the social ladder."
She didn't even try to hide her intentions.
In the photo, she lounged comfortably in my room, as if it belonged to her. On her fingers were two dazzling diamond rings, deliberately displayed. I recognized them. Gifts that had once been presented to me at a private dinner inside the compound, the kind of gesture that carried weight in a household where every piece of jewelry signaled exactly where a woman stood.
The clothes she wore were even more familiar.
They were the tailored designer suit and crystal heels that the DeLuca brothers had specially commissioned for me as a birthday gift just six months ago.
Silently, I stared at the screen for a moment. Then I blocked her without hesitation.
"Mom," I said firmly into the phone, my voice clearer now, "I mean it. I want to have my own child as soon as possible."
During my hospital stay, the doctor had told me that this latest incident had severely weakened my body.
If I didn't get pregnant while I was still young, I might never have the chance to have a child of my own.
Time was slipping away from me. I couldn't afford to wait any longer.
After a brief silence, my mother sighed softly. "Alright," she said. "I'll respect your decision."
"Gianna Moretti has already looked into your horoscopes," she continued. "Next Sunday is a good day to register the marriage."
"As long as you come back, I'll arrange everything for you."
I could tell that she already understood what this decision meant. A transfer of protection. Once the papers were signed and the union blessed, the DeLuca name would hold no authority over me. The Moretti bloodline would.
Before hanging up, she added one final reminder, her voice softer than before. "Don't forget to say goodbye to Gianna properly."
I lowered my phone slowly and looked up at the dull, gray sky above me.
The doctor had said it would take about a week for me to recover fully.
So I decided that I would use this one week to say goodbye—to everything, and to everyone I had once held onto.
I took a taxi back to the DeLuca compound, watching the familiar streets pass by through the window. Every turn, every corner carried memories I had once treasured, but now they only felt distant and hollow. The iron gates appeared ahead, flanked by the low hedges and security cameras I had learned to stop noticing years ago. The soldier at the gate barely glanced at me before waving the cab through. I was still inside, still on the books. For now.
However, the moment I stepped through the front door, a sudden blast of icy water hit me without warning.
I gasped as the cold drenched me from head to toe in an instant, my clothes clinging to my skin, the chill seeping straight into my bones.
"Oh, I'm so sorry, Bianca," Serena's voice came, light and insincere.
She stood there holding a garden hose, her expression feigning surprise. "I was watering the flowers. I didn't realize you were standing there."
But even as she spoke, she didn't stop. The water continued to spray directly at me, soaking me completely before she finally lowered the hose, as if she had only just realized her "mistake."
I forced my eyes open against the sting of the water. When my vision finally cleared, what I saw made my chest tighten.
The lily of the valley I had carefully tended for years—something I had nurtured with my own hands—was gone.
In its place was a sprawling bed of bright, vibrant roses, planted deliberately, as if erasing every trace of what had once been there.
A cold wind swept through the courtyard, and the chill, combined with the shock, sent a sharp pain through my recently operated body. I pressed my thumb against the pulse point inside my wrist, counting the beats, willing myself to stay upright.
My legs weakened. The world spun for a moment, and I nearly collapsed, barely managing to steady myself before everything went dark.
Dante and Nico stood nearby, exchanging a glance before letting out mocking sneers.
