And so, Silvana moved in. The family of four was finally "reunited." The moment the two children saw Silvana, their faces lit up with pure, unadulterated joy.

The younger one, Chiara, couldn't contain her excitement and blurted out, "Mamma!"

Fortunately, Julian was quick. He pulled me into his arms possessively, kissed my cheek, and then chuckled. "Our little princess is calling for you, my love."

But the supposedly "adopted" twins, Dario and Chiara, had been in the Valachi house for three months. In all that time, even when I’d tried to win them over, they had never once looked my way.

Now, forced to keep up the charade, Chiara shot me a vicious glare before saying with a pout, "Mamma, I want that spiky fruit. Peel it for me."

The fruit had a tough, thorny rind that would prick my fingers. She wanted to hurt me. All because she thought I was competing with her real mother for her papa's affection.

Chiara had often made such demands. I had always assumed she was just a child testing boundaries and had fulfilled her requests without a second thought. But now, seeing the undisguised malice in her eyes, my heart turned to ice.

"If you want it, ask one of the maids to peel it."

Julian moved to stand between us, taking my hand gently. "My wife's hands are for restoring priceless works of art," he said with a soft smile. "I can't even bear to let her do something like this for me."

Silvana's expression immediately darkened, a flash of pure hatred in her eyes as she glared at me in silence.

Then, out of nowhere, she suddenly asked, "Julian, where is your St. Christopher medallion?"

Julian always wore a medallion around his neck—one I had personally sought for him. I had made a pilgrimage all the way to Sicily, kneeling on every single stone step of the sacred mountain to reach the oldest church, just to have this medallion blessed. The medallion had been personally blessed by the bishop, and Julian, deeply moved, had worn it ever since, never taking it off.

Now, his chest was bare.

"The medallion?" Julian froze. "I was wearing it this morning—"

Just as he was about to anxiously search for it, he looked up and met Silvana's smoldering gaze. Her face flushed as she slowly licked her lips. Then, as Julian watched, she discreetly slipped a hand between her legs, shifting her body just so and letting out a soft, breathy moan.

"Ah… Julian… my stomach hurts. Can you help me upstairs to lie down for a bit?"

Her meaning was unmistakable.

Julian's breathing grew heavy. He lowered his voice and said, "Alessia, I'm going to help Silvana upstairs. You watch the children."

Without waiting for my reply, he eagerly guided Silvana toward the staircase.

My heart went completely cold. I instructed the maids to take the children to their rooms, then quietly followed them upstairs.

The bedroom door was ajar. Julian had been in such a rush he’d forgotten to lock it.

"Are you insane? You put my medallion in a place like that!"

Julian was scolding her, but his voice held no anger—only a raw, suppressed excitement.

"Ah… Julian… it's too deep. I can't get it out. Please, help me…"

Silvana guided his hand. A moment later, I heard the clink of metal on the floor. A medallion, stained and soiled, rolled slowly to a stop at my feet.

I closed my eyes in despair. The medallion I had so devoutly prayed for—a token of my faith and love—was now just a prop in their filthy game.

They didn't even try to hide it, trampling on my love and faith right before my eyes. I no longer wanted this marriage. I no longer wanted this man.

I had had enough. That night, I contacted the most famous "cleaner" in the underworld, a lawyer named Silas Thorne. I had him draft a separation agreement to divide our marital estate. At the same time, I paid a hefty sum to a professional team to erase all traces of my existence.

"I want to disappear completely," I said over an encrypted phone line. "How long will it take to erase every trace of me here?"

"One week, at the earliest," the voice on the other end replied.

I paused.

Julian had said Silvana only had a week left. That after a week, everything would be over. He would return to his family, return to me, and love me with his whole heart again.

A soft, bitter laugh escaped my lips.

Where in the world does someone get to have it all? To play around and then just waltz back to his family? Did he really think I would always be there, waiting?

No. I wouldn't wait. And he couldn't come back. Because when he decided to return, he would find he no longer had a home.

"Fine. One week," I said without hesitation. "The money has been transferred. Make sure I vanish completely."

The next morning, the desecrated medallion was once again around Julian's neck. The sight of it made my stomach churn, and I couldn't touch my breakfast.

Julian, however, looked sickeningly proud. "Alessia, look, I found the medallion. It’s the symbol of our love. I'll wear it for the rest of my life and never lose it again."

As soon as the words left his mouth, Silvana, sitting across from him, suddenly contorted in pain. She spat a mouthful of blood onto the floor and began to convulse violently.

"Silvana! What's wrong?" Julian cried, rushing over and sweeping her into his arms.

At the same time, the two children burst into tears.

Chiara pointed a trembling finger at me and shrieked, "Papa, it was her! Mamma did it! She put pistachio powder in Silvana's coffee! Silvana's allergic! She's trying to kill her!"

Julian's brow furrowed as he shook his head. "Chiara, that's ridiculous. Alessia would never do something like that."

But the next second, the older twin, Dario, rushed over and covered his sister's mouth, his voice trembling with manufactured fear. "Chiara, stop, or Mamma will kill us too!"

As he spoke, he deliberately pulled up his sleeve. His small arm was covered in a horrifying collection of deep, overlapping bruises, as if he had been repeatedly beaten with a rod.

Julian's eyes widened. He slowly looked up, his gaze locking on me with disbelief.

"You did this to them?"

My expression remained placid. "If I said no, would you believe me?"

When we married, he had promised to believe me unconditionally. But now, faced with a blood-spewing Silvana and two bruised children, rage twisted Julian's features.

"They're five years old! Do you think they would make something like this up? Besides, who in this house would dare to lay a hand on them but you? Alessia, they're just children. How could you be so cruel?"

Silvana was still convulsing. Julian, abandoning the argument, scooped her up, ready to call the family doctor.

Just then, I found it hard to breathe. My throat began to swell, constricting as if something were lodged deep inside. A red rash bloomed across my skin—the unmistakable signs of a severe allergic reaction.

"Pistachios…" I choked out, clutching my neck. "I'm allergic… to pistachios…"

I had only had a cup of coffee that morning. Everyone in this house knew about my allergy; the staff would never make such a mistake.

Chiara shot me a triumphant glance—she was the one who had done it.

"J-Julian…" My breathing grew ragged.

I tried to call his name, hoping he would take me to the clinic with her. But Julian just gave me a glacial look.

"Stop the act, Alessia," he said, his voice laced with ice. "Everyone here knows you're allergic to pistachios. Why would anyone put them in your food? Is it so hard to admit you were wrong that you have to fake a reaction for sympathy? I'm so disappointed in you."

With that, he turned and strode out, carrying Silvana, leaving me to suffocate on the cold marble floor.