“No… no… no!”

The words tore out of me as he violently kicked what was left of the urn. The broken pieces scattered across the marble, flying in different directions before smashing against the wall. Shards of ceramic rained down like falling glass.

I couldn’t move.

My body locked in place, breath trapped somewhere deep in my chest. It felt like my lungs had forgotten how to work.

Something inside me snapped—my chest tightened violently. A sound tried to come out of me, but it wasn’t a scream or a cry. It was something worse. Something broken beyond repair.

Vincenzo stepped directly in front of me.

His hand grabbed my face, fingers digging into my cheeks so hard I could feel pressure against my teeth, against bone.

“That’s enough,” he said low and cold. “Stop this performance.”

I stared at him, blinking slowly. His face was empty. No anger that made sense. No remorse. No grief. Just… nothing.

“I almost believed you,” he said flatly. “For a second, I almost felt sorry for that dead little act of yours.”

His thumb dragged along my jaw, rough and deliberate. It burned.

“But then the hospital sent everything. Videos of Gabriel smiling. Sitting up. Laughing. The doctor confirmed you twisted the story. Said you manipulated him. That you let him act sick just to get attention.”

A lie.

Her lie. Lena’s lie.

My eyes drifted past him without thinking—to the stairs.

And there she was.

Lena stood halfway up, one hand resting lightly on the railing. The dim light caught her face just enough for me to see it—the faint curve of her lips, that small satisfied smile she thought no one noticed.

She did it.

She bought the story. She paid for it. She built the lie piece by piece.

And Vincenzo believed every word like it was truth carved in stone.

They started walking upstairs like nothing had happened.

Lena leaned into his shoulder as they went, moving slowly, almost delicately, like she was made of something fragile.

“Come to bed, amor,” she murmured softly. “I can’t stay down there another second with her.”

Noel glanced back once. Just once. His expression twisted in disgust before he lifted his chin and followed behind them.

And then the house went quiet.

I was still on the floor.

Blood on my hands. Broken pieces around me. I gathered what I could of my son with fingers that wouldn’t stop shaking, even though there was nothing whole left to hold.

Time passed after that—but I couldn’t tell how much. The world stopped feeling like it moved at all.

I never slept.

I just sat outside my room with my knees pulled tight against my chest. Dried blood stained my palms. Salt clung to my lips from crying I didn’t even remember doing.

Then, sometime after midnight—

A cough broke the silence.

Vincenzo’s voice followed immediately, sharp and panicked.

“Lena—look at me. What is it? Tell me where it hurts.”

I didn’t move.

Her voice suddenly rose, filling the hallways like a storm trying to break through the walls.

“I can’t breathe!” she gasped. “Vincenzo—my chest… my stomach… she cursed me! That urn… ever since she brought it into this house, something’s been wrong!”

Footsteps thundered. Vincenzo paced. Cursed under his breath.

“That woman…”

Lena’s voice dropped again, trembling now, soft like she was on the edge of collapse.

“I heard the maids… they said she brought poison. Something meant for me. Maybe she hid it in the urn… maybe she wanted me gone.” She gasped shakily. “I’m scared, Vincenzo… I’m pregnant… I don’t want to die…”

The door burst open.

Vincenzo stormed in.

His rage hit the room before his body did—thick, suffocating, sharp enough to make my skin crawl.

He grabbed my wrist and yanked me up so fast my feet barely had time to move.

“You did this.”

Pain shot through my arm. My ankle twisted under me. His grip was unrelenting.

“You poisoned this house,” he growled. “You cursed her. You knew she was carrying my child and you still brought death into my home.”

“I didn’t—”

He pulled me forward violently, cutting my words off mid-breath.

“She almost died tonight!” he shouted. “Is that what you wanted? Huh? You wanted her gone?”

He dragged me into their room and shoved me hard.

“KNEEL.”

I stayed standing.

“I said kneel.”

“No.”

The slap came fast.

My head snapped to the side. White flashed behind my eyes.

“On your knees.”

I still didn’t move.

So he kicked the back of my legs.

Pain exploded upward. My knees hit the floor hard. Skin tore. Warm blood spread beneath me.

Lena sat on the couch like she was watching a stage performance. Perfect posture. Controlled breathing. One hand resting on her stomach like she was protecting something precious.

But her eyes—

Her eyes were sharp.

“I don’t believe her,” she whispered. “She doesn’t sound sorry. Make her say it louder, Vincenzo. I want to hear it.”

Vincenzo stood behind me like a shadow waiting to fall.

“Apologize,” he ordered. “Until she forgives you.”

My voice trembled as it came out.

“I’m sorry.”

It broke halfway.

“I’m sorry.”

Again.

“I’m sorry.”

Again and again until my throat burned raw and my chest felt hollowed out, like something inside me had finally given up trying to survive.

Then Lena suddenly stood.

She swayed slightly, one hand clutching her stomach.

“Vincenzo… something’s wrong,” she whispered, voice shaking perfectly. “My stomach… I think I’m bleeding…”

And just like that—

She collapsed straight into his arms.

Flawless.

Like she had practiced it.

Vincenzo caught her instantly, holding her like she was the only thing keeping the world intact.

“Lena… amor!” His voice cracked as he cupped her face. “Stay with me. Look at me. Don’t close your eyes. Breathe… just breathe.”

Her eyelids fluttered weakly, like she was fading away.

“Vincenzo… I’m scared…”

His head snapped toward the hallway.

“Get the car—NOW!” he roared, voice shaking the entire house.

I remained on my knees.

Blood slowly soaked through the fabric of my pants, warm and sticky against my skin. My hands were torn up, trembling, and somewhere deep inside my chest, Gabriel’s name kept echoing like a wound that refused to close.

Vincenzo lifted Lena effortlessly, like she weighed nothing at all—like she was something precious that could break if held wrong. She curled into him immediately, soft whimpers escaping her lips, one hand pressed over her stomach as if she were barely holding herself together.

Before stepping out, he paused.

He looked back at me.

Those eyes… they weren’t the same ones that once softened when they landed on me. Now they were sharp, distant—cold enough to cut.

“Don’t move from there,” he said flatly. “You don’t even deserve air, let alone anything else.”

I said nothing.

“You don’t even deserve a bed,” he added, voice low with disgust.

Then the door slammed shut, and the silence swallowed everything.

I don’t know how long I stayed there on the floor. My body felt like it had turned to stone. My mind buzzed faintly, and my throat burned raw, like I had been screaming without realizing it.

Then—

The door creaked open again.

Light footsteps approached slowly.

I didn’t lift my head until a shadow fell across me.

“Why are you sitting like that?” Noel’s voice rang out.

He was holding a small blue toy car, dangling it loosely from his fingers. His pajamas were neat, hair perfectly brushed, face bright and rested like he’d slept peacefully through everything.

He crouched down beside me, smirking slightly, resting his elbow on his knee as if he was inspecting something interesting on the floor.

“My mom’s really good at acting, huh, puta?” he whispered, amused.

The word hit like a blade.

My lips parted, but no sound came out.

He rolled the toy car across the tiles. It clicked softly as it moved.

“Dad always believes her,” he added casually. “Every single time.”

Then he stood up like nothing had happened and walked away, humming under his breath—like he hadn’t stomped on my son just hours ago.

I lowered my head slowly. My voice barely came out, broken and thin.

Soon.

This would all end soon.

The divorce papers were already with the lawyer. I just had to wait.

And when it was done… I would finally be free.

And they would finally understand what it meant to lose everything.

**

Vincenzo returned before sunrise.

He dropped a bottle onto the floor in front of me. It rolled slightly before stopping—painkillers, no label, no explanation.

“Try not to cause trouble next time,” he muttered without even looking at me.

He grabbed his keys again but paused at the doorway.

“This weekend is my parents’ anniversary,” he said. “You’re still legally my wife. People will ask questions. Bring Gabriel.”

I didn’t react.

Not anger. Not shock. Nothing.

“You heard me,” he repeated coldly. “Bring him. Clean him up. Smile. Act properly. You know how this family works.”

Then he left.

Back to Lena. Back to her hospital room. Back to her world.

**

The anniversary came.

Vincenzo didn’t sit with me in the car. He made me ride in front with the driver, like I was staff instead of anything else.

Behind us, Lena leaned comfortably against him, like she belonged there. Like she had always belonged there. Noel sat close to her, tucked under her arm.

She whispered something into Vincenzo’s ear, and he smiled—softly, almost fondly—brushing his thumb over her hand like it was the most natural thing in the world.

I looked down at my dress.

Black. Simple. Rough against my skin. Too plain, too tight, too wrong for the world they were stepping into.

Everyone else sparkled. Diamonds, silk, perfection.

Lena wore white. Pearls flowed down her hair like a crown. She looked untouched, innocent, untouchable.

No one spoke to me.

No one even glanced in my direction before we left.

**

At the estate, cameras exploded in flashes the moment we arrived. Reporters swarmed like a storm breaking at the gates.

Vincenzo stepped out first, straightening his cuffs, playing his role perfectly—the devoted husband, the powerful man.

He opened Lena’s door himself.

She stepped out slowly, like the world had been built just for her entrance.

Noel followed, holding her hand.

I stepped out last, my shoes sinking slightly into the gravel.

“Don’t speak unless spoken to,” Vincenzo said quietly without looking at me.

I nodded.

He didn’t look back.

**

Inside, the ballroom glittered like a different world. Gold chandeliers hung above us like dripping jewels. Music floated through the air, soft and expensive.

Vincenzo raised his glass.

“Everyone,” he announced, “this is Lena. The woman who will carry my future forward.”

Applause erupted instantly.

Lena lowered her head gracefully, pretending to be shy, though her posture said otherwise.

“And this,” Vincenzo continued, pulling Noel forward, “is my heir.”

The room clapped louder.

Vincenzo’s parents embraced Noel like he was something sacred.

I stood near the edge of the room, half-hidden among coats and shadows. Easily ignored. Easily forgotten.

“Who is she?” someone asked near the dessert table.

Vincenzo’s mother answered without hesitation.

“Oh, her?” she said lightly. “Just the former wife. Couldn’t even raise her own child properly. A sickly boy she kept hidden. No one really knows what became of him.”

Lena placed a hand over her chest, pretending sympathy.

“Gabriel is still recovering,” she said gently. “He wasn’t strong enough to travel.” Then she turned to me with a perfect look of pity. “Poor Olivia… still grieving.”

She leaned in and kissed Vincenzo’s cheek.

My nails dug into my palms until it hurt.

A waiter accidentally knocked over a dessert stand. A silver tray crashed to the floor, the sound echoing through the hall.

Laughter followed immediately—Vincenzo’s father the loudest of all.

“We’re here to celebrate,” he said loudly, then pointed at me. “Let her clean it up. She’s used to it.”

Some guests chuckled.

Lena stepped forward smoothly, voice sweet as syrup.

“She used to be such a wonderful hostess,” she said. “Maybe she can serve drinks. Just until things settle.”

Vincenzo said nothing.

So I bent down and picked up the tray.

I moved through the room, handing out glasses like I belonged nowhere else. A waitress gave me a look—something close to pity.

At the bar, someone whispered, “Is that the first wife?”

Another voice replied, “I heard she poisoned the house… with her dead child’s ashes.”

I kept walking.

Slow. Steady.

They couldn’t take anything more from me.

I had already lost it all.

Let them talk.

Let them laugh at the ghost they thought I had become.

Because soon—

They would remember my name again.

And when they did… it wouldn’t be in whispers.

While I was serving champagne near the garden tables, I tried to melt into the golden light of the lanterns, hoping I’d become invisible to everyone around me. But I wasn’t. I could feel it—every whisper, every glance—burning straight through me like acid on skin.

“Vincenzo and Lena look so good together.”

“She actually fits this world. She moves like she belongs in a mafia family.”

“Their son is so well-behaved. Clearly, she raised him properly.”

“Vincenzo finally chose someone worthy of him.”

I kept pouring champagne, my fingers tightening around the silver tray until they ached. The plain black dress I wore felt less like clothing and more like punishment. Around me, everyone sparkled—diamonds soaked in old money, power passed down like inheritance, like blood.

And then it happened.

Noel.

Vincenzo’s precious heir, his spoiled little prince, casually stuck his polished shoe out just as I passed.

I noticed too late.

My heel caught. My body lurched forward.

Crystal glasses exploded across the marble. Champagne burst onto a woman’s ivory dress, spreading like a stain that looked almost alive—like something she would never forgive.

Gasps shot through the air. The music stuttered and died.

I stood there in the center of it all, hands shaking, surrounded by shattered glass and silence.

Noel lifted his chin, smug and proud.

“She always ruins everything,” he said loudly. “Just like she ruined my baby brother.”

The garden went still.

A heavy, choking silence dropped over everyone.

Then Lena stood up slowly, one hand resting gently over her stomach. Her eyes shimmered with practiced fear, like she had rehearsed the expression in front of a mirror.

“Please… he’s just a child,” she said softly. “Ever since that cursed urn appeared, he’s been terrified. He has nightmares.” Her voice dropped into something quieter, sharper. “Nightmares about her… about what she did.”

Someone in the crowd whispered, “The urn…? Oh God…”

I barely moved my lips when I spoke.

“The cursed urn…” I whispered, “was my son. The one you all destroyed.”

No one heard me.

Or maybe they chose not to.

Then Vincenzo came.

He pushed through the crowd like a weapon finding its target. Before I could even react, his hand locked around my arm and yanked me forward.

“You really think you can humiliate me in front of my men?” he snapped. “In front of Lena?”

His voice rose, sharp with rage. “You ruin everything you touch.”

His hand struck my face.

The impact snapped my head to the side. I tasted blood immediately.

Still, I didn’t step back.

Lena gasped softly, playing her role perfectly.

“Baby… don’t hurt her,” she said faintly. “She’s still the mother of your child…”

Her hand drifted to her stomach like a blessing.

Vincenzo’s mother arrived last, dripping in jewelry, standing like she was judging my execution rather than attending an event.

“Divorce her immediately, Vincenzo,” she said coldly. “I won’t allow trash like her to carry our name.”

That was when I finally lifted my head.

“No need,” I said, my voice shaking but steady enough to be heard. “The papers were filed this morning. You can keep your son. I don’t want anything from this family anymore.”

Vincenzo froze.

Confusion. Shock. Something like fear flickered across his face.

Before he could speak, his mother stepped forward and slapped me so hard my ears rang.

“How dare you talk like you have a choice?” she hissed. “You should be grateful we ever accepted you!”

Whispers erupted instantly around us.

“She should be locked away.”

“She’s unstable.”

“She’s losing her mind.”

“She won’t survive without them.”

My phone buzzed.

One message lit up the screen:

Divorce approved.

For a moment, everything blurred.

Then I smiled.

Small. Sharp. Dangerous.

I wiped the blood from my lip, lifted my chin, and walked toward the gates.

Vincenzo’s voice shouted after me.

“Olivia! Where do you think you’re going?”

I didn’t turn around.

“Somewhere you’ll never control me again,” I said.

He moved like he was going to order someone to stop me—but Lena suddenly gasped and collapsed just in time, perfectly timed, perfectly fragile.

Chaos erupted.

Guards rushed in. Guests panicked. Cameras flashed everywhere.

And no one stopped me.

**

Back at the mansion, the maid opened the door with wide, guilty eyes. I didn’t say a word. I walked past her and went straight upstairs to Gabriel’s room.

His scent was still there—soft, innocent, untouched by everything they had turned into rot.

I packed his things slowly. His toys. His worn picture books. His tiny clothes. Each item I held to my chest like I was trying to memorize him through weight alone.

Then I took off my wedding ring and placed it carefully on his pillow.

The maid stood by the stairs, silent, gripping the railing like she might collapse.

I walked past her, down the stairs, and out to my old, rusted car. I got inside and looked at the mansion one last time.

It glittered in the windshield—beautiful, cold, monstrous.

Like a coffin pretending to be a home.

“Goodbye, Vincenzo,” I whispered. “One day, I’ll burn everything you built.”

My phone kept vibrating.

“Come back.”

“You embarrassed me.”

“You ungrateful bitch.”

“If you leave, you’ll regret it.”

I looked at the screen, smiled faintly, and typed back two words:

FUCK YOU.

Then I drove away.