To them, it was just another one of my "acts." They believed I was pretending again, just like before.
"I thought you had grown a backbone and wouldn't come crawling back here," Nico said mockingly, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
"Your own mother doesn't even want you anymore," he continued, his voice cold and cutting. "Where else could you possibly go but here?"
His words pierced straight into my heart, sharper than anything else.
At that moment, a memory surfaced in my mind, the first day I had arrived at the DeLuca compound.
Back then, everything had been different.
Nico had held my hand gently, his voice warm and reassuring as he tried to comfort me. "Don't worry, Bianca. From now on, this is your home."
Dante, always more composed, had personally prepared the largest and finest room for me, making sure I felt welcomed and safe. The compound had high walls and guarded gates, but inside those walls, they had given me the kind of warmth that made me forget what protection cost.
Later, when the three of us moved into this villa to run the family's front operations, he had carefully decorated the master bedroom to suit my tastes, paying attention to every detail.
He had even declared openly that, both now and in the future, I would be the unquestioned lady of this house.
But all of that changed the moment Serena entered our lives.
She came under the excuse of helping her mother, who kept house for the DeLuca family. At first, no one thought much of it. The housekeeper's daughter, running errands, learning the rhythms of the compound. Nothing worth noticing.
Yet from that day on, everything began to shift.
She clung to the two brothers constantly, always finding excuses to stay close to them. Meanwhile, my belongings began to be "accidentally" broken, one after another.
At first, I tried to be understanding. I told myself she was inexperienced, that she didn't mean any harm.
But the day she shattered the jade rosary my father had left me, right in front of my eyes, I could no longer stay silent.
I confronted her.
And that was the moment everything truly changed.
Dante frowned deeply and pushed me aside without hesitation. "Serena hasn't had an easy life," he said coldly. "You, on the other hand, are just a spoiled princess. Why do you have to make things difficult for someone who's barely seen the world?"
Nico stood beside him and added, "She's younger than me, Bianca. As an adult, can't you show a little more kindness?"
I stood there, clutching the broken pieces of my father's rosary in my hands, feeling something inside me shatter along with it.
That was the first time I truly felt helpless.
From that moment on, everything began to change.
I was no longer the most important person in their lives. Slowly, little by little, Serena took my place.
The housekeeper's daughter gradually became the new lady of the house, while I was pushed further and further to the side. She sat where I had sat. She poured wine at dinners I was no longer invited to. The soldiers at the gate began nodding to her the way they used to nod to me.
And now, standing here, I realized there was nothing left for me to hold onto.
All I wanted was to pack my things and leave.
When I stepped fully into the house, I saw that all of my belongings had been thrown carelessly into the hallway, piled up like unwanted trash. Clothes, shoes, framed photographs, a jewelry case with my mother's name still etched on the clasp. All of it stacked against the wall as if the room I had lived in for years had simply been emptied of evidence.
Dante stood there, one arm wrapped possessively around Serena's shoulders. His gaze fell on me, cold and filled with disdain.
"Bianca, you should know your place," he said harshly. "You're nothing more than someone living off the DeLuca family. You have no right to look down on Serena, let alone throw tantrums at her."
"From now on, you'll stay in the staff quarters," he continued without hesitation. "Serena will take over all family business matters, and you'll be transferred to the back office to handle miscellaneous tasks."
"Once you learn some humility, maybe we can talk again."
As if that wasn't enough, Nico picked up the small teddy bear my mother had once given me and tore it apart in front of me, laughing as he did it just to amuse Serena. His right thumb cracked against the side of his hand once, sharply, before he ripped the stitching open. Not because tearing a stuffed animal required force. Because he wanted me to watch him choose it.
"Miss Bianca," he said mockingly, emphasizing the title with deliberate sarcasm, "if you throw another fit and upset Serena again, I won't let you off so easily."
Miss Bianca and Bianca.
It was just one word's difference, but the meaning had completely changed. In this house, in this family, the distance between a name spoken with warmth and a name spoken with mockery was the distance between protection and exile.
In the past, hearing something like that would have broken me. I would have spent sleepless nights replaying every word, every slight.
