Sky
At six in the evening, I sat by the bedroom window overlooking the front yard. Felix’s car pulled into the driveway—he stepped out with Sofia by his side, and Jayden asleep in his arms like a child who felt safe in the embrace of betrayal.
Sofia’s arms were full of paper bags from luxury brands. Brands I used to buy with my own money, but ever since the wedding, I hadn’t worn any of them.
Felix didn’t like me wearing expensive things. Now I knew he simply didn’t want me spending money he had reserved for Sofia.
I didn’t go down to welcome them. Even when Felix entered the room, I remained silent.
“It’s already six. Shouldn’t you have dinner ready by now?” he asked flatly.
I glanced at him briefly. “My legs hurt. Can you just order food for tonight?”
Felix let out a bitter laugh—a laugh that hurt more than his words. “Are you serious? Your legs are numb, Sky. You’re just lying to get out of your responsibilities.”
My hands clenched. In the past, whenever I complained, he’d soothe me with gentle words like, “Everything’s going to be okay.” Now, all I heard were sharp, cruel accusations.
Still, I went downstairs. I cooked. Not because I cared—but because I needed to survive. The kitchen was mine—the only space I still controlled. But lately, Felix preferred Sofia’s cooking, using the excuse that he didn’t want me getting too tired.
An hour later, dinner was nearly ready. I went upstairs to call Felix, passing by Sofia’s room—and that’s when I heard it.
Moans. Shallow breaths.
I froze. My hands tightened on the armrest of my wheelchair. The door was slightly ajar. Through the crack, I saw Sofia sitting on Felix’s lap, his hands trailing along her thigh.
I couldn’t bear to watch any more. They had already confessed everything. I wanted to leave.
But Sofia’s voice stopped me.
“Felix, I can’t take this anymore. When are you going to let Sky go?”
“Be patient, sweetheart,” Felix replied. “I haven’t broken her enough yet. The more she sees us together, the more hopeless she becomes. Once she’s completely crushed, I won’t owe her anything. Not even the slightest bit of affection.”
I stood frozen.
So… the reason he married me wasn’t love. It was to make me suffer. Slowly, methodically.
And I didn’t even know why.
We barely knew each other before marriage. All I knew was that he was one of my fans. That was it.
“You’re right,” Sofia chimed in. “If that cripple loses all hope, she’ll take her own life. You won’t even have to dirty your hands, Felix.”
No more words followed.
Only the revolting sounds of kisses echoing in the room—like the sick rhythm of betrayal.
I rolled my wheelchair away, down to the dining room. I ate alone.
An hour later, they finally came downstairs. Jayden clung to Felix’s arms, glaring at me—as if to say I didn’t deserve to have “his father.”
“I told you to call us when dinner was ready. And you had the audacity to eat alone?” Felix snapped.
I looked at him briefly. “I was hungry.”
Felix opened his mouth, but Sofia spoke first.
“Sorry for making you wait, Sky. Jayden was fussy, and for some reason, only Felix could calm him down. I hope you’re not misunderstanding again.”
I said nothing. I kept eating like no one was sitting across from me.
That made Felix furious.
He grabbed my plate and smashed it to the floor—shards scattering everywhere.
“Sofia is talking! Is this how you show respect?!”
I closed my eyes, trying to keep myself from breaking down. But Felix wasn’t done.
“I’m tired,” I said and wheeled myself away.
But Jayden suddenly leapt from Felix’s arms, ran toward me, and shoved my wheelchair. I fell, my hand landing on a sharp shard of the broken plate—blood starting to drip.
“You think just because you’re the lady of the house you can do whatever you want? Just remember, there’s no such thing as a crippled queen. You never deserved that title!”
Felix and Sofia didn’t react. They just watched… and then walked out of the house, leaving me behind again.
“You’re wrong, Jayden.” I clenched my fist around the glass shard. “I’m not crippled. And I will be a queen—the queen who will punish you all.”
I reached for the phone tucked in the pocket of my wheelchair, and dialed the only person I could still trust.
“I want the divorce papers as soon as possible. File it under the name Alessia “Sky” deLuca,” I said. “And sever all ties with the Moretti family.”
