After leaving the church, I returned to the manor alone.

This place I could barely call home had once been my sanctuary, but now it felt cold and alien.

Facing death, I had no desire to linger in this family estate, no desire to be bound by ties of blood or marriage.

I had only come back to pack my belongings, what little I had left.

But as it turned out, there was almost nothing worth packing.

My room had been the smallest storage closet in the house.

The only things inside that belonged to me were a few worn-out clothes and a pathetic collection of personal items.

Even Bianca's walk-in closet was three or four times its size.

I had once thought my own small corner of the world was enough, that I shouldn't ask for more.

But when I pushed the door open, I froze.

Even this tiny space had been transformed into a shrine to Bianca.

Her desk was covered in trophies and certificates from her various social triumphs.

The vanity was replaced with a display case filled with photos of her standing beside the young heirs of various families.

My bed was gone, replaced by a leather sofa. The walls were adorned with stunning photos of her at various galas.

The piano scores I had collected for over a decade were all gone.

Even the music box my grandfather had given me for my tenth birthday was tossed in a corner, covered in a thick layer of dust.

I knelt and gently brushed my fingers over the music box's chipped edges.

Suddenly, my phone rang. It was the administrator of the family cemetery.

"Is this Miss Eleanor? I'm the groundskeeper at the San Antonio Family Cemetery."

"That plot you reserved… Miss Bianca has taken an interest in it. She says it's in a better location."

"We need your confirmation to keep the hold for you. Otherwise, we'll have to release it to her."

I had visited that cemetery not long ago.

It was planted with lush cypresses and neatly trimmed rose bushes. The headstones and urns were made of exquisite marble.

The plot was right next to the Draven family's burial ground.

At the time, I had thought that if my life was to be so full of pain, then at least I could have some dignity in death.

Now, even my final resting place was something Bianca wanted to take from me.

I hesitated for a moment before replying.

"I don't need it anymore."

"Give it to her."

I was no longer a daughter of the Rocci family anyway. I had no intention of being buried in the family cemetery.

Just as I hung up, I saw Draven had returned.

He stood there, his face a dark cloud.

"What were you talking about on the phone? A cemetery plot?"

For a second, I thought he knew.

But then his face twisted in disgust.

"Cursing yourself to die now? What kind of sick joke is this?"

"Are you threatening me, threatening this family with these theatrics?"

"Wasn't humiliating the family at the church enough for you?"

A wave of dizziness washed over me. I had no energy to argue with him. "I'm not threatening anyone," I said calmly.

"Then what's all this about medical records and cemetery plots?"

His shouting sent a fresh spike of pain through my skull. "Bianca has worked so hard to make a name for herself among the Families!"

"Can't you give her a little support instead of using these sick games to steal the spotlight? You just can't stand her, can you?"

I looked at Draven's threatening stance, the words catching in my throat.

And I'm the one who's not welcome here?

Bianca's debut was important, but what about me?

Ever since she arrived, I hadn't had a single proper birthday.

Whenever my birthday approached, Bianca would suddenly come down with a cold or an allergic reaction.

My parents would then drop everything and rush her to the hospital.

For ten consecutive years, a single cough from Bianca would have my parents scrambling for a thermometer.

But my own birthday, my graduation, all my important milestones, they never remembered.

While I waited for a single word of congratulations that never came, they were busy planning Bianca's galas, ordering custom gowns, and preparing all sorts of holiday gifts for her.

I gave him a bitter smile. "Draven, do you remember what day it is?"

He hesitated. "What day?"

"Three years ago today, you proposed to me in this very room."

I gestured to the unrecognizable space around us. "You said you would protect me for the rest of my life."

His expression faltered for a fraction of a second, but his cold mask quickly returned. "Don't bring up the past."

"Don't be so petty."

"Besides, look at the state of you. Do you really think you're worthy of those promises anymore?"

Just then, my father, mother, and Bianca returned.

Their loud voices carried from the hallway before they even entered the room.

"You still have the nerve to bring up anniversaries?"

"You're the one who wanted to break the engagement, and now you're getting sentimental?"

My father's face was livid, the fury in his eyes threatening to consume me.

"You made a mess of Bianca's debut, and yet she cried herself half to death begging us to forgive you!"

"Apologize to your sister right now!"

My mother sighed beside him. "Eleanor, you are twisted. How did I end up with a daughter like you?"

Pathological? Yes, I was certainly sick.

The kind of sick where I had no money for treatment and was about to die.

Bianca came to stand before me, her eyes welling with tears. "Sister, I'm sorry, it's all my fault."

"Don't apologize. I'd love some of your mango scones. Would you make a batch for my celebration, sister?"

Everyone looked at me, waiting for my answer.

A flicker of relief crossed my mother's eyes as she urged me on.

"Isn't that your specialty? Eleanor, Bianca is offering you a way out. You should be grateful. Now, go on!"

I lifted my head and stared directly into Bianca's eyes. "Aren't you deathly allergic to mangoes?"

"Are you asking me to make you scones just so you can frame me for trying to poison you, again?"

The room fell into a dead silence.

The color drained from Bianca's face.

In the blink of an eye, she rushed forward, grabbing my hand and pleading in that innocent tone of hers.

"Sister, I know you're worried about me."

"But... I've been feeling much better lately. My allergies are gone."

"Please don't be angry, sister. I can have something else!"

Her act was so transparent it was almost laughable.

The first time I made mango scones, I didn't know she was allergic.

Back then, I adored my sweet, lovely little sister.

All she had to do was mention wanting some, and I stayed up for three days and nights just to perfect the flavor for her.

The result? Bianca collapsed from an allergic reaction.

When she woke up, the first thing she did was fling herself into our parents' arms, crying.

"Father, Mother, the scones were a gesture from my sister. She said one little bite would be fine."

"Please don't blame her. It's my own fault for being greedy!"

I stood helplessly by her hospital bed, facing my parents' icy glares.

"I didn't know she was allergic to mangoes. She never told me..."

But instead of trust, I was met with my father's slap.

I can still feel the sting on my cheek. He'd hit me with enough force to send me stumbling to the floor.

"Everyone in this family knows. How could you not know?"

"So that's it. You were just trying to hurt your sister!"

He locked me in the underground wine cellar for three full days.

It was cold and damp, with no food or water.

My fever spiked to 102 degrees. I nearly died in that godforsaken place.

When they finally let me out, I was so weak I could barely stand.

All the while, Bianca was upstairs, basking in the care and attention of the entire family.

A cold laugh escaped my lips. "You fainted three weeks ago just from the smell of a mango, and now you're suddenly cured?"

"Eleanor, let the past be the past."

My mother waved a dismissive hand. "Bianca wants your scones. Just make them. What's so difficult about that?"

The nightmare of that time played over and over in my mind, and the memory still made me tremble.

I refused coldly. "I'm not making them. If you want scones, buy them yourself."

A flash of malice crossed Bianca's eyes before her wounded expression returned.

"Sister, I know you don't like me."

She walked toward me, feigning a plea. "But tonight is so important to me. Please..."

As she got closer, she suddenly threw herself backward.

"CRASH!"

She stumbled back into the wine cabinet, sending a priceless bottle of 1947 vintage red wine crashing to the floor.

The bottle shattered, spattering crimson liquid everywhere.

It was a memento from Draven's maternal grandfather, worth a hundred thousand dollars.

"Oh my god!" my mother shrieked.

My father and Draven's faces turned ashen.

But in the next second, Bianca reached for the largest shard of glass, letting the sharp edge slice deeply into her palm.

Blood instantly gushed from the wound.

I thought I had seen all her tricks, but I never imagined she would go so far as to harm herself just to frame me.

Bianca looked at me, crying. "Sister, why did you push me?"

My mother moved like lightning, pulling Bianca into her arms and anxiously checking the wound.

Bianca leaned against my mother, whimpering softly. "Mom, it hurts..."

Draven's face was a mask of fury. He turned on me. "Eleanor! You're insane! Do you know what you've done?"

"I didn't push her." I replied quietly, my voice hollow with a grief so deep it had turned to numbness. "She did it herself."

"Enough!"

My father grabbed another wine glass from the table and hurled it at my feet.

The glass exploded, and a shard slashed my calf.

"Eleanor, you have no respect for this family's rules!"

"You were a vicious child who pushed Bianca down the stairs, and you're pulling the same stunts now?"

"When will you ever stop?"

The force of the throw seemed to drain him.

I could feel a deep, bloody gash on my calf.

My mother saw the blood on my leg, and a flicker of pity crossed her eyes.

But a moment later, when Bianca's crying grew louder, she looked away and went back to comforting her.

I wiped the blood from my leg.

It didn't matter. I only had a few days left to live anyway.

A little more blood loss meant nothing.

I turned and went upstairs, grabbing the small bag I had already packed.

It was barely luggage, just a small backpack.

There was very little here worth taking.

When they saw me coming downstairs with my bag, their taunts began anew.

"What's this, you've learned to run away from home now?"

"The family's rules are meant to protect you, Eleanor. Why can't you ever understand that we have your best interests at heart?"

"And you can forget about ever being my fiancée!" Draven's voice cut in.

I had been disappointed so many times that I was numb.

After hearing that threat for the thousandth time, I was no longer afraid of losing this so-called family.

Because this family had never truly accepted me.

As I walked out the door without a second glance, my father smashed a vase on the table. The sound of shattering porcelain followed me.

I stopped, forced back my tears, and turned to face them all.

"Since you regret letting me live in this world, then today, I am cutting all ties with the Rocci family for good."

"Whoever goes back on their word is a traitor to the Families."

I had just stepped out of the villa's main gate when Draven caught up to me.

He pulled a roll of cash from his suit pocket, his tone softening slightly. "Go find a place and cool off for a few days. Once everyone has calmed down, come back and apologize. This will all blow over."

A roll of cash.

For Bianca, it was pocket money for a single shopping trip.

They had long grown accustomed to the idea that this was all I was worth.

"I said it. Whoever goes back on their word is a traitor." I said nothing more and limped away into the night.

"Eleanor, don't be so goddamn ungrateful!"

Draven stormed back into the living room, fuming. Bianca snatched the cash from his hand and cooed at him with a smile.

"Darling, don't give her any money. Once she's hungry enough, she'll come crawling back to you, won't she?"

Draven looked at Bianca's delicate face and thought she had a point.

After all, in every fight they'd ever had, I was always the one to give in first, to beg for his forgiveness.

This time, he thought, would be no different.

As I walked, a random, searing pain shot through my body again.

Dragging my exhausted body, I walked for what felt like an eternity before I finally crossed the boundary of the Frost family's territory.

With the little cash I had left, I booked a room in a dilapidated motel on the outskirts of the city.

In the dead of night, I curled up on the small, grimy bed.

Two days left.

As my life slipped away, bit by bit, I waited for death to come.

Perhaps it was the clarity that comes before the end, but sleep eluded me that night. My mind drifted back.

I remembered a time before Bianca, when I was the apple of my parents' eye.

But they were busy dealing with a family crisis then, stretched too thin to care for me.

They sent me to live with relatives in Sicily when I was very young.

My mother kissed my cheek, her voice thick with emotion.

"My darling, as soon as Mama settles the Family's blood debts, I promise I'll come back for you."

Draven and I had known each other since childhood.

When we were separated at the age of seven, he cried and said he was going to marry me.

I waited for four years.

When my parents finally returned, they had another girl with them.

She was the child of a fallen ally, whose parents had been killed in a family feud.

My parents had adopted her.

At first, my younger self was overjoyed to have a sister to play games with.

I had truly treated her like my own flesh and blood.

But then came the important Family gathering. I was serving tea to a distinguished guest, just as my mother had instructed.

Suddenly, Bianca "accidentally" bumped my arm.

Scalding tea spilled all over her, and she screamed in pain.

She ran crying into our parents' arms, her body trembling.

"Father, Mother, please don't blame my sister! I know she didn't mean to humiliate me in front of our guests! Please don't be mad at her, it's all my fault for being so clumsy!"

Her words sealed my fate.

All the guests looked at me with contempt.

I demanded to know why she had framed me.

A flicker of a malicious smile touched her lips before she burst into sobs.

"Sister, why did you push me? I just wanted to help with the tea!"

From that day on, in their eyes, I was a traitor to the famiglia.

Another time, on Christmas Eve, I was helping prepare gifts according to family tradition.

Bianca secretly added allergenic nut powder to the pastries I was in charge of.

The son of another Don had a severe allergic reaction, nearly causing a diplomatic disaster.

As punishment, my parents confined me for three days, convinced I was trying to sabotage a family alliance.

Draven and I were childhood sweethearts, our engagement long settled.

From a young age, I had been learning how to best support a mafia heir.

On one occasion, I was entrusted with organizing and safeguarding a secret ledger detailing the family's most important transactions.

Bianca offered to help me organize my study.

She secretly photographed the ledger and leaked its contents to a rival family.

As a result, several of our underground casinos were raided by the police, and we suffered heavy losses.

I had no way to defend myself and became the traitor who had betrayed the Don's trust. The wine cellar always followed.

Over the years, I was no stranger to starvation and punishment. My already frail body grew weaker and weaker.

Then came the diagnosis from my doctor about my kidney dysfunction.

He prescribed me special medication for kidney health.

I took it diligently, every day for half a year.

But my condition didn't improve. In fact, it worsened.

What had been mild kidney dysfunction deteriorated into end-stage renal disease.

Even my own doctor couldn't explain the abnormal progression of the illness.

"Logically, with this medication, your kidney function should have stabilized, or even improved," he told me, bewildered.

It was only much later that I found out the truth.

The "lifesaving medicine" I had been taking so religiously had been replaced with a slow-acting poison designed to destroy my kidneys.

The pills that were supposed to heal me became the catalyst that accelerated my death.

And I had unknowingly ingested them for six months.

When I finally mustered the courage to tell my parents, I was cut off before I could even begin.

"Eleanor, every day it's one problem or another with you. How can someone so weak ever be fit to be an heir's wife?"

Fine. It didn't matter. No one would believe me anyway.

The sharp pain in my kidneys made me curl up on the bed.

To be honest, I could no longer tell if the pain was physical or emotional.

I suddenly longed for the spaghetti my grandfather used to make, a taste no expensive delicacy could ever replace.

But my body was exhausted, and I didn't have enough money for the fare.

Even a trip to his grave had become an impossible wish.

I ordered the cheapest spaghetti from a delivery service.

While I waited, I received a message from Draven.

[Eleanor, if you're hungry, just come back.]

[Give Bianca a proper apology.]

[We were all just angry. If you come back and admit you were wrong, you'll still be my fiancée, the eldest daughter of the Rocci family.]

Perhaps my silence since leaving had unsettled him, because for the first time ever, he was the one reaching out to me.

I wondered, could our decade-long history earn me even a shred of his genuine concern?

I didn't reply to his message.

The doorbell rang. I thought it was my food.

But when I opened the door, Bianca was standing there.

"What a dump," she said, wrinkling her nose as she surveyed the room.

"What are you doing here?" I asked weakly.

"Here to visit my poor, dear sister, of course."

She walked over to the takeout bag by the door and "accidentally" kicked it over.

The sauce spilled across the floor.

"Oops, my apologies," she said with a smirk.

"By the way, I have some good news for you."

She sat down in a chair, crossing her legs.

"I've already canceled your dialysis appointment for you."

"And that priest who was going to help you break off the engagement? He's been defrocked for violating church rules."

"There is no one left to help you."

Hearing this, I finally lost my composure.

"Why would you do all this?"

"Because I hate you. If you have to blame someone, blame yourself for being a jinx. You dragged the priest down with you."

"So you have kidney failure. Big deal. You can scream it to the whole world, but do Mom, Dad, and Draven believe you?"

"If you're going to die, do it somewhere far away. Why do you have to be such an eyesore here!"

Seeing her fly into a rage, I felt nothing.

Instead, I found a calm I didn't know I possessed.

"Sister, I have never done a single thing to harm you. Why are you doing this to me?"

Bianca let out a deeply sarcastic laugh.

It was a long time before she stopped.

"What can I say? An adopted child is never as good as a blood relative."

"No matter how hard they tried to hide it, I could always see their preference for you."

"So I had to find ways to secure my position in this Family."

"What else did you do?" I wanted to hear the answers from her own lips.

"A little 'special' medicine, and I could fake an allergy," Bianca said airily.

"I burned myself. I added the nut powder to the pastries. I stole the secret ledger."

"And your kidney medication? I replaced it all with a poison that attacks the kidneys."

"It took a lot of work to frame you, you know."

"What, are you angry?"

"In the state you're in, about to die, what can you possibly do to me?"

The pain in my body mingled with a cold fury, and I began to tremble.

I tried to get up, but she pushed me back down to the floor.

"Don't get too excited, sister."

"You know, Mom and Dad don't love you anymore."

"They love me. It's always been me."

"And Draven, too. He'll marry me eventually. Once he inherits the Frost family, I'll be the most honored Donna."

"Watching you get weaker day by day has been so much fun."

She kicked me in the ribs before turning to leave, a satisfied smirk on her face.

"Enjoy what little time you have left, dear sister."