The earth was cold beneath my fingers.
I didn’t know how long I had been kneeling there, digging into the dirt with bare hands, but my nails were caked with mud and blood. My dog—my only companion in that house of monsters—lay wrapped in a silk scarf, buried under the old oak tree in the garden.
I pressed my forehead against the damp soil, swallowing my grief.
It wasn’t just about the dog. It never had been.
It was about me.
That house had been swallowing me whole for six years, piece by piece. They took my freedom. My career. My dignity. And now they had taken the last thing that was truly mine.
But not for much longer.
I wiped my hands on my ruined nightgown and turned back toward the mansion, my body aching from exhaustion. Every step felt heavier than the last.
I hadn’t expected to see anyone in the hallway that late at night.
But then I heard it—a scream. A high-pitched, agonized wail that echoed off the walls.
I froze. And then I saw her. Bianca.
She was crumpled on the marble floor, her body trembling, her silk nightdress torn, bruises blossoming across her arms and face. Blood stained the corner of her lip.
She looked up at me with wild, terrified eyes. “Please—please don’t hurt me anymore,” she sobbed.
My stomach dropped.
Oh, you sneaky little bitch.
Doors slammed open. Heavy footsteps. And then—
Morgana.
Mirella.
They appeared at the top of the grand staircase like a pair of vultures drawn to the scent of carnage. Morgana’s eyes gleamed with cruel satisfaction, while Mirella watched with a smug smirk, as if this was exactly what she had been waiting for.
Bianca sobbed louder, making sure they heard every word. “She—she attacked me!” she cried, pointing a trembling finger at me. “I tried to tell her I didn’t mean to fall in love with Alessandro, but she just—” She hiccupped on a sob. “She went insane! She clawed at me—she wanted to kill me!”
Morgana didn’t hesitate. She stormed forward and slapped me across the face so hard my vision blurred.
“You vile, jealous little whore,” she hissed. “How dare you lay a hand on her?”
Before I could even react, Mirella stepped closer, her face twisted in disgust. And then—she spat on me.
Mirella yanked my hair, jerking my head back. “You just didn’t know when to give up, did you?” she sneered. “You were nothing here, stepmother. You’ve always been nothing.”
They shoved me back and forth between them like a plaything, a doll for their amusement. Morgana dug her nails into my arm, twisting my flesh, while Mirella’s laughter rang in my ears as she shoved me to the floor.
And then came Alessandro.
His presence alone silenced the room.
His eyes landed on Bianca first—his mistress, his favorite—and then on me. His expression shifted in an instant.
Rage. Deadly, seething rage.
“She—she attacked me,” Bianca wailed, crawling toward him on her knees. “I begged her to stop.”
And then she played her final card.
She lifted her tear-streaked face. “Alessandro… I’m pregnant.”
The hallway spun.
“With twins,” she whispered, her eyes flickering toward me. “I was going to tell you tonight, but Raven—she… she found out and snapped.”
I opened my mouth, but I never got the chance to speak.
Alessandro moved.
Fast.
His hand wrapped around my throat, slamming me back against the wall.
I gasped, fingers clawing at his wrist, but he didn’t ease up. His grip was bruising, crushing, possessive.
“You will stay away from Bianca,” he growled, his breath hot against my face. “She’s carrying my heirs now. My twins. She will be treated like a queen, and you will serve her like the worthless thing you are.”
I saw nothing but darkness around the edges of my vision. I had suffered through his neglect, his cold indifference, his quiet cruelty.
But this? This was new.
I forced out a weak, rasping laugh. “You really think I’d touch her? I wouldn’t dirty my hands.”
Alessandro tightened his grip, his eyes flashing. “I should kill you for what you did.”
Bianca whimpered from behind him. “No, please, I forgive her. I just—I just want her gone.”
I would have applauded her acting skills if I weren’t so close to blacking out.
Alessandro let go. I hit the floor hard, gasping for air.
“Lock her in her room,” he ordered his men. “Until I decide what to do with her.”
They grabbed me before I could regain my balance. As I was dragged away, I heard Bianca’s soft, triumphant whisper:
“I always win.”
***
But here’s the thing about me. I always planned ahead.
The lock on my door clicked into place. Heavy. Secure. Too bad they never noticed the tiny blade I’d had hidden in the hem of my robe.
It took minutes—maybe less—to pick the lock. I stepped out into the darkened hall, my heart pounding.
I’d been planning this escape for months. I had contacts. Resources. And most importantly—someone very interested in seeing me disappear.
The man who had sent me a plane ticket and a new identity. The same man linked to my father’s death.
I didn’t have time to think about what that meant. Right then, all that mattered was getting the hell out of that house. And then— A voice.
Alessandro’s.
I pressed myself against the cold stone wall, listening.
“She’s finally breaking,” he murmured into his phone. “Give it a few more months, and I’ll get rid of her just like I did her father. His father’s assets and companies have already been transferred to my name, thanks to her cooperation in the marriage."
Everything stopped.
My breath. My pulse. The very air around me.
I… I had heard that wrong. Right?
I peeked around the corner. Alessandro stood there, phone to his ear, completely at ease. Completely unaware that his world was about to collapse.
“No loose ends,” he continued. “Make sure this one disappears cleanly, too.”
A cold, sharp clarity sliced through me.
He had murdered my father.
All these years, I had thought my father’s death was a tragedy. A mistake. An unsolved mystery lost in the abyss of the underworld. But it hadn’t been.
It was him.
It had always been him.
Alessandro had killed my father and forced me into this marriage to cover his tracks, taking every piece of my father’s empire for himself. My entire life—everything I thought I knew—it had all been a lie.
Something inside me snapped.
I turned, my breath uneven, my vision blurring with rage. I didn’t even realize I had started moving until I heard it.
"There she is!"
Shouts. Heavy boots pounding against marble.
I didn’t have time to think. I sprinted toward the staircase, my heart hammering, lungs burning. If I could just reach the lower floor—
SPLASH!
A wave of liquid crashed over me from above. Cold. Sharp-smelling. Sticky.
I barely got a gasp out before the scent burned my nostrils. Gasoline.
I choked, my shoes skidding against the now-slick marble as the thick liquid clung to my clothes, my skin.
Laughter rang from above. Slow. Mocking.
I whipped my gaze upward. Mirella.
She stood at the railing, gripping an empty silver canister, her smirk widening as she watched me struggle to stay on my feet.
"Oops," she purred, tossing the canister aside. "Did I do that?"
Panic clawed up my spine. I pushed forward, slipping with every frantic step, my body drenched in the suffocating stench of gasoline.
"Run, little rat," Mirella taunted as she moved down the staircase, heels clicking, bow in hand. "Let’s make this fun."
I lunged toward the door—
WHOOSH!
A fiery streak cut through the air.
THUNK!
The arrow buried itself into the wall inches from my head, flames licking hungrily at the wooden frame. Heat scorched my cheek.
I froze. My breath caught.
Mirella tilted her head, another arrow already nocked, her fingers steady against the bowstring.
"You reek of fear," she murmured, dipping the tip of the arrow into the growing flames. The fire caught instantly.
Her smirk sharpened.
"Run again," she purred. "Let’s see if I miss this time."
My blood turned to ice.
I didn’t think. I just moved.
Slipping. Sliding. Running. My feet skidded against the gasoline-soaked marble as I clawed my way forward, lungs burning.
Behind me, Mirella giggled.
"Faster, stepmother. You’re running out of time."
Then she raised the arrow with flames and shot at my heart.
