Chapter 2

I never had a pleasant life. Like, at all. Or maybe I did, but it vanished when I was fifteen.

“You’re not my daughter. You belong to the elder bloodline of the Lombardi Familia.”

Those were my mother’s final words before she died.

She confessed everything in front of the very people she claimed were my true parents. I didn’t even get a moment to mourn.

The truth broke open and the Lombardi elders heard it, along with a ranking member of the Commission who happened to be present.

To contain the scandal amongst ourselves, they confirmed the story and fed explanations I never asked for. Nothing eased the shock in my chest, or the anger boiling beneath it.

“We had to set you aside, Valentine,” said Dina, the woman who gave birth to me. “Our family holds influence. We had to protect our name, and that meant presenting Dahlia as the legitimate Lombardi heir.”

“We couldn’t let someone without standing represent this Familia. You wouldn’t want to be the reason we became a joke, right?” my father added, as if discarding me had been a favor. “And this truth must stay buried.”

I said nothing. My heart had already gone cold.

“Does this mean you’re taking her back, Dad?” Dahlia asked. Her tone was calm, but her calculating eyes were sharply locked on me. She was always like that. Sweet mask, with venom underneath.

“No,” my father replied. “We can’t do that. It would unravel everything we’ve spent years covering.”

Then he turned to me and took my hand. “But we’ll support you. We can send you to school, Valentine. We’ll cover everything.”

That moment told me everything. They would never claim me as their daughter, be it publicly or privately. Still, they funded my schooling. I convinced myself that was enough.

I used to envy Dahlia. She had everything. My bloodline. My rightful place. Even the man I loved.

She and Reynold were meant to be. Childhood first-love turned to real lovers. Their engagement was already celebrated between the Lombardi and Falcone families. The wedding was supposed to seal the alliance. But the night before the announcement, Dahlia vanished, and the Lombardi elders had to play their last card for the Falcone deal.

Me.

Now I was here. Trapped in a loveless arrangement. A Don’s wife treated like a glorified house servant.

But today, I end it all.

I packed my clothes and belongings. What mattered fit into a suitcase. Everything else was left to be thrown out. All of it had to disappear before I walked away.

“What’s all this?” Reynold’s voice came from behind.

He’d just returned—from Dahlia’s residence, where he’d spent the night.

“They’re things I don’t use anymore,” I said, referring to the clothes he bought for me out of obligation.

“You’re getting rid of them? That’s not like you,” he said, narrowing his eyes.

Of course he'd notice. I had been raised like a maid’s daughter to never waste anything.

“I’ll donate them to your foundation’s charity. Good for your public image, especially with your new partnership with the city council.”

Reynold's expression shifted in surprise. I’d never spoken like that. Then he slowly nodded, a faint smile tugging at his mouth.

I thought he might thank me. But another voice cut through the room.

“My sister is such a saint. So thoughtful and selfless.” There she was. Dahlia. Wearing a dress I once thought Reynold had bought for me.

She smiled sweetly as she approached him. Then she rushed the last steps and jumped into his arms, bumping a nearby vase.

It fell and shattered just like that.

I gasped. That vase was one of the Falcone family’s most prized heirlooms!

It was a wedding gift from Reynold’s father, etched with our names and joined hands. A symbol of unity between the Lombardi and Falcone.

I always kept it spotless. I planned to bring it with me. Even if my husband was cruel, his parents had once treated me with kindness.

But now it was completely shattered into pieces.

Reynold didn’t react. He didn’t even glance at it. If it meant nothing to him, why should I care?

“Are you hurt? Dahlia, I’m sorry,” he said instead.

He checked her arms for scratches. Apologizing to the very woman who broke it.

“Oops… sorry,” Dahlia murmured, glancing at me.

I swallowed and nodded.

“It’s nothing,” Reynold said. “We can always buy another.”

I pressed my lips together. “No need. It was just your father’s wedding gift. I was planning to auction it anyway.”

I only said it to cut him. It worked. His face shifted—from surprise to anger. “You’d auction that? Our wedding gift?”

“But she broke it,” I replied calmly.

Silence. He remembered. It wasn’t me. It was Dahlia who caused trouble this time.

“Sorry, Valentine. I really didn’t mean to,” Dahlia said softly now.

Why was she even here? To make a scene?

“I’ll have someone clean this,” Reynold muttered. “In the meantime… Dahlia will stay in this room. Just for a week. She needs sunlight, and this one gets the most.”

Then he looked at me like it was nothing. “You’ll move to the guest room, Valentine.”

And just like that, Reynold pushed me out of my own room. Out of what little space I still held in this house.