I didn't cry. I started to laugh.

"What are you laughing at?" My reaction infuriated my father. He raised the whip again. "It seems one lash wasn't enough!"

Just as he was about to strike again, I lunged for Laura. Her eyes widened in terror as I grabbed her and shoved her, hard, right over the edge of the staircase.

"AHHH—!" Laura let out a bloodcurdling scream as she tumbled down the stairs, her body bouncing off the steps before her head hit the wall at the bottom. She went limp and passed out.

Ignoring the fire on my back, I smiled. "That push? Yeah, that was all me."

My stepmother shrieked.

My father was shaking with rage. "Get out! Get out of my house! From this day on, you are no longer my daughter!"

I had already seen his true colors. It didn't even hurt. "Good. I don't want to be your daughter!"

He had his guards throw me out, tossing my suitcase after me.

Just then, the sky opened up. Cold rain soaked me to the bone. The whip-lash on my back stung like a thousand needles. My temperature started to rise, my head spun, and my legs felt weak.

I dragged my heavy suitcase through the rain, my vision blurring. Finally, I couldn't go on. I collapsed on the cold, wet street.

Sometime later, I vaguely felt a pair of strong arms lift me and place me in a warm car. The heater brought some feeling back to my frozen body.

When I woke up again, I was in a bedroom I didn't recognize, in an unfamiliar mansion.

"You're awake?"

I turned my head and saw Edmund, dabbing ointment on the wound on my back. He was surprisingly gentle, his movements practiced, as if he'd tended to wounds like this many times.

"How did you get this?" he asked, his brow furrowed.

I gave him a cold smile. "If I said Laura did it, would you believe me?"

Edmund paused, then automatically defended her. "That's impossible. She's always so gentle and kind..."

I let out a bitter laugh and said nothing more. It was the answer I expected.

Just then, the doorbell rang. The butler entered. "Don Schroder, Miss Rosetti is here. She says she's come to take the Signora home."

"Don't call me that," I cut him off. "We're not married yet."

The butler froze. Edmund's face grew even darker.

"Edmund..." Laura stood in the doorway, pale, a bandage wrapped around her head. She looked incredibly weak. "Father kicked my sister out, and I was so worried... Even though she pushed me into the fountain, and then down the stairs... we're still sisters. I couldn't just leave her out there. I came to take her home..."

The performance was so sickening I almost threw up. I pushed myself up, ignoring the searing pain in my back.

"Save the act. It's disgusting."

"Alessia!" Edmund glared at me. "Laura is here out of concern for you after everything you've done to her, and this is how you treat her?"

"Concern?" I laughed coldly. "She wishes I was dead."

"You are unbelievable!" Edmund pointed a finger at me. "Apologize to Laura now!"

"In your dreams!"

Edmund lost it. He strode over to drag me, and Laura theatrically tried to get between us. In the scuffle, she stumbled backward into a heavy bookshelf.

As the shelf teetered, about to fall, Edmund instinctively dove for Laura, who was closer. He wrapped his arms around her, shielding her with his back as the massive piece of furniture came crashing down.

On the other side, I couldn't get out of the way in time. The corner of the shelf slammed down on my right hand. A gut-wrenching pain shot up my arm.

"Ah—!" I screamed, feeling the bones crush.

I stared at my mangled, bloody hand, but the pain in my heart was worse. This was my racing hand... my most prized possession.

Forgetting our fight, I looked at Edmund, pleading. "Please, get me to a hospital. My hand..."

Edmund's face changed. He started to move toward me, but Laura's weak voice stopped him. "Edmund... my head hurts so much..." she whimpered. "But... sister's hand looks really bad. She loves racing so much. Her hand is everything to her..."

Hearing that, Edmund's expression became complicated. Finally, his eyes grew cold. He turned, scooped Laura into his arms, and strode out of the room.

Before he left, he looked back at me and said, "This is what you get for hurting Laura. As for your hand... the wife of the Don has no business racing cars anyway."

I lay alone in a pool of my own blood. The agony from my hand was so intense I kept blacking out.

Just when I thought I might actually die there, the butler, taking pity on me, called a private doctor.

I was rushed to the hospital for surgery. When I woke up, the doctor told me, "The fractures are severe. You'll need to rest it completely. Otherwise, you might not be able to perform any strenuous activities with it again..."

I clenched my left fist. "I understand," I managed to say.

My plan had been to endure one more day, then leave this hellhole for good.

But Laura had other ideas. She posted on Instagram: "My Painful Childhood - The Truth About My Sister's Bullying."

I skimmed the post, every word a knife to the heart.

"My whole life, I've lived in fear. My sister Alessia was jealous of the attention I got from our father, so she would bully and threaten me when no one was around... And her mother, the so-called 'political heiress,' used her family's power to steal my mother's fiancé, forcing my kind mother to accept a lesser role. Now her daughter is doing the same, pushing me into fountains, throwing me down stairs..."

The post included a photo of Laura with a bandage on her head, tears streaming down her face. Anyone would think I was a monster.

I could have ignored all of it. But I could not, would not, let her slander my mother.

I scrolled to the comments. A tidal wave of hate washed over me.

"Why is this bitch still alive?"

"Like mother, like daughter. A family of homewreckers."

"How can the Schroder family accept a woman like this? It's a disgrace!"

"Doxx her! Make her pay!"

Soon, my private address was leaked. Even the location of my mother's grave was posted online.

My front gate was splashed with red paint, with words like "GET OUT OF CHICAGO" and "BITCH" scrawled across it.

The rage was a firestorm. I lost all reason.

Ignoring my newly operated-on hand, I got in my car and sped off to find Laura.

She was at a café, sitting with five or six reporters, dabbing her eyes as she recounted her "tragic story."

"I'm so scared, but I choose to forgive her... she's my sister, after all..."

I shoved the door open. The café went silent.

When Laura saw me, her face went white. "Alessia? What are you..."

I marched straight up to her. In front of everyone, I swung my left hand and slapped her, hard, across the face.

SMACK! The sound echoed through the room.

Laura clutched her cheek, staring at me in disbelief. "You... you actually..."

"I'm telling you," I didn't hesitate, hitting her again. "If you ever insult my mother again, I will make you pay a thousand times over!"

The reporters scrambled, cameras flashing. This was the kind of drama they lived for.

"Everyone, do you see?" Laura immediately switched into victim mode. "This is who she really is! She'll hit me in front of all of you. Imagine what she does at home..."

I was about to tear into her when I heard a familiar, deep voice from behind me.

"That's enough!"

Edmund strode into the café, his face a thundercloud. His eyes flickered between me and Laura, finally landing on her red, swollen cheek.

"Edmund..." Laura looked at him, tears welling up instantly. "I was just trying to clear the air, but sister, she..."

"Out!" Edmund grabbed my arm, his grip so tight it sent a shock of pain through me. "Get out with me, now!"

He dragged me out of the café, the sound of flashing cameras and Laura's sobs following us.

In the car, Edmund finally exploded.

"Are you out of your mind? Hitting her in front of reporters? Do you have any idea what kind of mess this will make for the family?"

"She insulted my mother!" I screamed back. "I won't let anyone drag my mother's name through the mud!"

"That's no excuse to resort to violence in public!" His eyes were full of disappointment. "As the future Mrs. Schroder, you are expected to have a certain amount of class and composure, not act like a common street thug!"

"Mrs. Schroder?" I laughed coldly. "It looks like you've already found your perfect candidate for that role. Why do you still need a 'street thug' like me?"

My words left him speechless. After a long moment, he said icily, "From now on, you're not going anywhere. You will stay in your room until the wedding day."

Back at the mansion, Edmund had his men guard my door, making me a prisoner in my own room. Before he closed the door, he looked at my cold, defiant face, and his tone softened slightly.

"I'll take care of the press. You just focus on being my bride."

On the morning of my third day of house arrest, there were three soft taps on my window.

It was the signal I'd been waiting for.

I quietly opened the window. A man in black handed me a package. Inside was a new ID, a passport, and a plane ticket.

"Flight's at 2 PM. A car will be waiting at the back gate," he whispered.

I nodded. Staring at the documents that represented my freedom, my heart was a mix of emotions.

I had already packed a small bag with only the essentials and the few things my mother had left me. I didn't want anything else from this place.

At ten in the morning, I heard the rumble of engines. Peeking through the curtains, I saw Edmund arrive with a procession of black cars, his men in tow. He was wearing a sharp, black suit, looking impossibly handsome and imposing.

My replacement, Laura, appeared before him, her face hidden by a thick, heavy veil. It was a Schroder family tradition—the veil could only be lifted at the altar, after the vows. A tradition I was now deeply grateful for.

Edmund didn't suspect a thing. He carefully helped his bride down the stairs, whispering gently in her ear, "Don't be nervous. I'm right here."

I stood in the shadows of the upper landing, watching them, feeling nothing but a quiet calm. Edmund had always wanted a poised, respectable wife. Now he had one. I could only imagine his surprise when he lifted that veil.

The staff all left for the wedding, and the mansion fell silent.

I slipped out undetected and got into the discreet black car waiting at the back gate. But I didn't tell the driver to go just yet.

I took a small remote from my pocket and looked back at the sprawling estate.

This was once my home, the dream my mother had built with her own hands. Every room, every detail, was a piece of her heart. But it had become a place of betrayal, lies, and pain.

I couldn't let it stand. And I certainly couldn't let it fall into their hands.

"Miss, we should go, or you'll miss your flight," the driver urged.

I took one last look at the building, then pressed the red button without hesitation.

BOOM!

A deafening explosion ripped through the air. The massive estate was instantly engulfed in flames. Secondary explosions followed, sending fireballs and thick, black smoke billowing into the sky.

The driver nearly jumped out of his skin. "My God! What was that?!"

I watched the inferno, my voice perfectly calm. "My mother designed that house. I'd rather see it burned to the ground than let them have it."

"Let's go," I turned and gave the driver a clear command. "To the airport."

The car began to move, and I took one last look in the rearview mirror at the raging fire.

Goodbye, Chicago. Goodbye to my painful past.

And goodbye, Edmund.