Elena’s POV

Marco walked over to me, while Enzo… he extended his hand, looking genuinely relieved. His smile was unrestrained, almost as if he’d finally relaxed when I didn’t choose him. Maybe I was the only one who noticed.

As Marco came closer, his face was serious, without a hint of a smile. Without a word, he took the microphone from me. And then, he dropped a bombshell that would change my life in ways I’d never expected.

"I’m sorry, Elena," he began, his tone unwavering. "I know this is your birthday party, a big day for you and the family, but… I need to say this. I don’t want to marry you."

The entire hall gasped, shocked and unable to believe what they’d just heard. Murmurs rippled through the crowd as I stood there, speechless, blinking in disbelief. I finally managed to whisper, "W-What?"

Marco shook his head, his expression firm. "I just can’t see you as someone I’d want as a wife."

Before I could fully process his words, Enzo snatched the microphone from Marco. "Even though you didn’t choose me, I was relieved. But if you had chosen me, I’m sorry, but we don’t want you, Elena."

The whispers grew louder, echoing painfully in my ears.

"Oh my God, this is humiliating.”

“How embarrassing for her."

“The brothers rejected her.”

I felt an unbearable ache in my chest as if every comment was a stab to my heart. I took a step back, the humiliation suffocating, making it hard to breathe. I started to hyperventilate, desperately gasping for air.

And then, suddenly, someone unexpected appeared at my party.

"I'm sorry I'm late."

All eyes shifted to the person who had just entered. The moment she arrived, Marco and Enzo's faces lit up with excitement, both of them clearly thrilled by her presence. But as soon as I saw her face, a surge of intense anger rose within me.

I knew, without a doubt, that she was the reason the Rossi brothers' loyalty had slipped away from me.

“Clara.”

"You!" I shouted, unable to hold back the fury building in my chest.

Clara had always been charming, the kind of beauty that caught everyone’s attention without even trying. She was the daughter of the Rossi family’s powerful business partner, the Vanguard Group.

As the sole heiress, she carried the allure of prestige and influence, a fact she knew how to use to her advantage. Though she seemed sweet on the surface, I’d seen the subtle ways she manipulated those around her, drawing them in with her pretty smiles and quiet words. It was no wonder that both Marco and Enzo had developed feelings for her, but I saw through her facade—and knew the scheming mind behind it.

I’d noticed how their attitude changed, how their loyalty and faith in me faded. It was as if they were always angry with me, making me feel less important, even though I was the daughter of Don Salvatore—a powerful name throughout the city.

They had abandoned the loyalty owed to my blood, to me… all because of Clara.

I marched straight toward her, ignoring the shocked and curious stares of everyone around. Gripping my gown to keep from tripping, I stormed down the stage until I stood face-to-face with her. I jabbed my finger at her, my voice sharp with accusation.

“Why did you even come to my birthday party? You weren’t invited!”

I knew I was causing a scene, stirring up whispers among the crowd, but I didn’t care. I needed them all to see the truth—that Clara isn’t innocent as she seems to be.

“You’re so fake!” I spat. “Don’t show your face here again. I know you’re not as innocent as you pretend to be!”

“Elena, please calm down,” Clara said softly, feigning innocence. “I haven’t done anything wrong. I’m just here to celebrate with you. Why are you pushing me away?”

Ms. Rossi hurried over, trying to pull me back, but I shrugged off her hand, my glare locked on Clara.

“Cut the crap!” I shot back, my eyes blazing. “I know you’re just here to get attention from the brothers. You stole them from me, stealing their loyalty, twisting their minds. But you can’t fool me!”

“Elena, that’s enough,” Marco’s voice cut through the air as he approached us, but I didn’t even look his way.

Then, suddenly, the massive cake rolled out, towering and elaborate, stopping right in front of us. Clara took the chance to respond.

“Elena, I don’t know what you’re trying to say. I’m sorry if you feel jealous of the attention they give me, but… I have no feelings for them.” She gave me a sickly sweet smile, one that only I seemed to notice was fake, while everyone else was blind to it.

"Liar! You’re a manipulator, and there’s no way you’ll fool me with your lies!" I shouted, unable to hold back my anger any longer. I stepped even closer, unable to stand the sight of her smug face.

She had the nerve to wear such an attention-grabbing dress: bold red, clinging to every curve, revealing her cleavage and a high slit on the side that showed off her long legs. It was clear she enjoyed the attention.

"Elena, enough! You’re causing a scene!" Enzo shouted angrily, his voice full of frustration. Both brothers now glared at me, their anger fully focused on me. My attention shifted to them, but just as I glanced back, Clara suddenly screamed.

“Ouch! That hurts!” she cried out dramatically, her voice laced with pain.

I turned back to her, but by the time I realized what had happened, it was too late. Since we were standing so close, she had subtly pushed me, but it was hidden by the folds of my large gown. To everyone else, it looked like I had pushed her. I lost my balance as I accidentally stepped on my gown’s hem, and with a gasp, I toppled backward—straight into the enormous cake.

Frosting flew everywhere, splattering across the hall and causing a chaotic mess. Guests close to me jumped back in shock, others screamed, and people pointed at Clara, horrified.

"Oh my gosh! You’re bleeding!” someone shouted.

I could barely process the words, and as I sat there, covered in cake, humiliation burned through me.

"She cut me!" Clara shouted, pointing directly at me.

Elena’s POV

“What?!” I stammered, blinking in disbelief. I couldn’t believe her audacity. The whole crowd’s attention shifted onto me, and I froze in place, paralyzed by a mix of shame and a growing, simmering rage.

"You… you cut me," Clara continued, voice trembling, as if she were the real victim. "You took advantage when no one was looking, and you cut my finger!"

I glanced down and saw her finger dripping blood onto the floor, the red stark against the tiles. The sight of it made people around us gasp and panic, drawing even more attention to her.

“You’re lying! I didn’t do that!” I shouted back, but my voice wavered. The sight of blood, the confusion, and the humiliation were all mixing together in a painful swirl, and I stammered, trying to find the words. “I… I feel…”

Suddenly, I heard Marco and Enzo’s voices, loud and panicked.

"Clara!" they yelled, rushing over to her side. Instead of helping me, they surrounded her, their expressions filled with worry. Despite it being just a cut—a shallow one at that—they fussed over her with urgency.

“Are you okay? Does it hurt?” they murmured, their attention fully on her.

Meanwhile, I struggled to stand, slipping on the frosting that covered me. Ms. Rossi finally came to my side, offering a steady hand.

“Elena, are you okay?” she asked, her tone gentle and concerned.

But the damage was done. The brothers had chosen Clara, leaving me alone in my own humiliation, and the pain cut deeper than anything Clara could have faked.

"Elena! How dare you hurt her!" Marco screamed, his voice filled with fury. His eyes were wide with rage as he pointed a finger at me, glaring like I was the worst person in the world.

But I couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t stand the humiliation, the anger, the betrayal.

With all the strength I had left, I managed to stand.

I shoved past him, pushing through the crowd, not caring about anything or anyone. I ran—away from them, away from the mess, away from my own birthday party.

It’s been days since my birthday party ended drastically, and yet, here I am, still locked away in my room, unable to open my phone or watch television.

I’m too embarrassed by everything that happened. I know I made a mess of things, confronting Clara without thinking, but my anger took over. I couldn’t handle the humiliation I received from the brothers.

For the past few days, I’ve just been lying in bed, barely eating or getting up. But then, there was a knock on my door.

"Ms. Elena," came the voice of the maid. "Yes?" I replied, my voice barely a whisper.

"Ma'am, Sir Marco, Sir Enzo, and Ms. Rossi are requesting you to come down and eat. They’re waiting for you."

I took a deep breath. They’d been doing this for days, not rushing in to confront me. They probably wanted to give me space, time to calm down, and I was grateful for that. But it had been a while now, and I knew it was time to face them.

"Okay, I’ll come down," I said, my voice hoarse.

The maid closed the door softly behind me, and the familiar darkness of my room engulfed me again. It felt heavy, just like the weight in my chest. I took another deep breath, tried to compose myself, and walked out of my room.

When I reached the bottom of the stairs, I saw Marco and Enzo sitting in the living room. Ms. Rossi is nowhere. They looked like they had been waiting for me for a while.

When they saw me, I could tell their expressions soured even more, as if they were annoyed just by my presence. I walked up to them, sat directly in front of them, and got straight to the point.

"What do you want to talk about? Is this about the party? About the humiliation you both gave me? Or is it about the shame I caused to Clara?" I already knew the answer to my own question, but I couldn’t help it.

Marco spoke first, his voice cold and dangerous, deep with anger, and his eyes were burning with fury as he looked at me. "I didn’t like what you did. You have no shame, can’t even accept that we rejected you for the marriage you wanted. And then, after that, you humiliated Clara. What’s worse, you even cut her finger. You need to apologize to her."

His accusations hit me one by one, each one stinging more than the last. I couldn’t hold back anymore.

"I didn’t cut her!" I yelled, the frustration pouring out of me. "Why are you all making it seem like I hurt her when I didn’t even do that? She’s been manipulating you both, she’s not even real! She pushed me, but what did you do? You came to her instead!"

"Elena, enough," Enzo snapped, standing up. His eyes were filled with rage, and it felt like he wanted to point a gun at me. "You’ve done enough to her. And now you won’t even admit your mistake?"

He shook his head in disbelief, and Marco followed up with words that crushed me.

"If you don’t apologize to her, then get out of this mansion and never come back."

I fell silent for a moment, stunned by their words, by the harshness in their voices. And at that moment, I couldn't control myself anymore.

Elena’s POV

"What happened to you two?" I asked, my voice trembling but trying to stay steady. "Ever since Clara stepped into your lives, into this family, everything has changed. The loyalty and care I once felt from both of you… it’s gone. And I thought I mattered to you. But now, since she showed up, why has everything changed? Why are you two acting like this now? It’s so unfair."

I tried to hold myself together, to keep my voice from breaking, but the weight of it all was too much. I refused to break down in front of them, but as I looked at their cold, expressionless faces, it felt like they didn't care. It hurt more than I thought possible.

"We don't care about you anymore, Elena," Enzo said, his voice as cold as ice. "You can stay here for as long as you want, but you have to apologize to Clara for what you did—humiliating her and hurting her. Or we’ll sue you. We’ll do anything to protect her."

His words hit me like a slap. I stepped back, feeling like the ground had been ripped from beneath me. I couldn’t even recognize the man in front of me. I remembered the days when Enzo was playful, kind-hearted—someone I could trust. But now? It was like he was a stranger.

It was so easy for them to just dismiss me, to tell me to leave.

I looked at Marco, hoping, maybe, just maybe, he’d say something—anything to stop this, to show that there was still something left between us. But instead, he avoided my gaze, dismissing me without a single word. It stung, more than I expected. My heart dropped, and for a moment, I felt invisible.

Then my eyes moved back to Enzo. His face was empty, no emotion, no warmth. It was like the decision had already been made—there was no place for me here anymore.

"Okay, fine," I said, my voice trembling with a mix of hurt and pride. "If you want me to leave, then I will leave."

"Go," Enzo replied coldly, his words slicing through the air, his tone sharp and final. "And we are not going to stop you."

I marched up the stairs, each step heavier than the last, my heart sinking with every thought of the conversation I just had with Marco and Enzo.

As soon as I slammed the door to my room, it felt like I was shutting the last door on whatever was left of my relationship with them. I was angry—angry at how easily they dismissed me, as if I were nothing.

I grabbed my suitcase, the weight of the situation crushing me, and as I started packing, I couldn’t hold back the tears. The zipper on my suitcase felt like it was mocking me as I dug through my things.

"I can’t believe them," I whispered to myself, feeling every word cut deep. "They threw me aside… just like that."

But then, as I continued to pack, I realized something that made my heart skip a beat—where were the gifts? The designer bag Marco had given me, the expensive stilettos from Enzo—everything was gone.

Where is it?

Panic bubbled up in my chest, and I couldn’t stop myself from tossing things aside in frustration. It was as if my memories, my life here, had vanished into thin air. I searched the entire room frantically, but they were nowhere to be found.

Those gifts were expensive, meaningful. They were from them. And now, they were gone.

A thought crept into my mind, and it was too hard to ignore. Clara. It had to be her. She was the only one who could’ve taken them, or at least convinced them to give everything to her.

A fresh wave of anger surged through me. I threw another item aside. What did it matter anymore? What difference did it make if Clara had taken what was mine or if they’d just given everything to her? They obviously didn’t care about me anymore.

I was done.