She hung me in the wine cellar, whipped me with a belt, and made me lick her shoes.

Father merely shook his head and walked away.

Pregnant with a bastard child, she was to marry the Balzini family heir.

She used me as a substitute bride, giving me to Vincenzo, the 'sickly invalid' confined to a wheelchair.

She poisoned me with a mother-child toxin—if she died, I must die too.

On our wedding night, Vincenzo rose from his wheelchair.

He wasn’t a cripple at all—he was the true emperor of New York’s underworld.

At the council meeting, I exposed that my sister carried her lover’s child.

She was executed on the spot.

To save me, Vincenzo forced our father to hand over the antidote.

I survived, spitting black blood.

...

"Stop it, Marco."

"Not on the boat... that mute's watching."

Sofia, my sister, resisted half-heartedly. She shot me a contemptuous glare, yet her eyes were hazy as her arms wrapped around Marco's neck.

Marco snorted. "What does a mute know?"

His icy gaze swept over me like I was a piece of furniture in the way. "Alesia's mind was gone long ago. If she had any sense left, she wouldn't watch her sister get intimate with another man."

"She's nothing but an empty shell without a soul."

Sofia traced circles on his chest with her fingers. Suddenly, he gathered her up and thrust her into the shadows of the cabin. Soon, only stifled gasps and the sound of bodies colliding filled the space.

I sat in a corner of the deck, stuffing olives into my mouth while watching the seabirds. After a while, curiosity drew me into the cabin. It was pitch-black inside, impossible to see anything. When I emerged, a man's hat—Marco's—had appeared on my head.

Sophia came out, her hair dishevelled, searching for her diamond bracelet. She turned to see me flinging the two-hundred-thousand-dollar chain into the sea with a splash.

She was both humiliated and furious. Back home, I was dragged straight into the wine cellar.

"Useless piece of trash! Why didn't you die on the street with your whore of a mother? You're an eyesore alive!"

"You asked for this today, so don't blame your sister for teaching you a lesson..."

She ordered the family thugs to hang me up and flog me with a leather belt. I neither cried nor screamed. The pain made my body convulse, but I remained utterly silent. Silence was my only weapon, and the proof they took as evidence of my "stupidity."

Father, passing by, heard the commotion. He paused at the doorway for a second, shook his head, and quickened his pace away.

Sophia, enraged by my silence, strode over, yanked my hair violently, forcing me to look up at her. Her face was contorted with fury.

"Want to live?"

I stared back, my eyes hollow.

Sophia extended her expensive, bespoke stiletto heel. "Then lick my shoe clean. A speck of dust, and I'll make sure you never speak again."

I didn't move. The thugs behind me kicked me hard in the back of the knee, sending me crashing to my knees before Sophia. They pinned my head down, forcing it close to the dust-covered shoe.

"You worthless scum! It's your privilege to lick the young mistress's shoes!"

My stomach churned violently. Closing my eyes, I resigned myself to my fate. Just then, the butler's urgent shout pierced the silence.

"Miss! Falconi requests your presence! Distinguished guests!"

Only then did Sophia release me. Before departing, she delivered a vicious kick to my midsection.

"Lock her in here. No food. No water."

The door locked. In the darkness, the hollow at my mouth slowly retracted into a cold, thin line.

Sofia.

The real show is only just beginning.

Everyone believes me to be a simpleton. But they don't know I'm merely pretending.

As a child, I witnessed my mother shot dead in the street by members of a rival family, a bullet grazing my scalp. The immense trauma robbed me of my speech. Ruo Wan—Sofia's mother, my father's second wife, the woman who climbed to power by betraying her former husband—needed a "foolish" daughter to accentuate Sofia's perfection. Thus, I became the disgrace and plaything of the entire Falconi family.

She coveted the betrothed chosen for my mother, Marco, a man of modest influence within the clan. So, under the pretence of taking me out to sea for recreation, she repeatedly met Marco in secret aboard the yacht.

I feigned stupidity to survive. More than that, to bide my time for vengeance.

If my memory serves, within three days, Sofia herself would come begging me to go out.

Sure enough, as hunger threatened to rob me of consciousness, the cellar door creaked open.

"Sister..."

I lifted my head, feigning bewilderment. Silhouetted against the light, a corpulent figure entered—the butler.

"Bastard, who are you to call her sister? How dare you utter the young mistress's name?"

He advanced towards me with ill intent, his greasy grin sickening me.

Sophia decreed that no one in the household was permitted to address me as 'Miss'. I was to be called nothing but 'bastard'. She treated me like a dog, to be trampled upon by anyone.

I recognised that face. In my previous life, it was he who had burst into my room with several men the night before I was sent away...

"Bastard, you've got a decent enough face," he grinned savagely, rubbing his hands together as he drew nearer. "Why not keep me company for a bit of fun? I'll give you something to eat..."

I clenched the shard of glass hidden in my sleeve, aiming it at his throat.

Just then, the door burst open.

"What are you doing?!"

Sophia stormed in with her men. The butler fell to his knees in terror.

"Dare to disrespect the Second Young Miss? Drag him out and break his legs!"

The bodyguards behind her immediately pounced, hauling the butler away. Shrieks soon filled the air.

The butler, stunned, stammered, "Miss, but you said... that we could treat this bastard however we pleased?"

Sofia ignored him. She walked over, personally untied my bonds, and even had someone bring me a clean dress.

"From this day forth, Alessia shall resume her status as the Falconi family's Second Young Miss."

Everyone present, including my father who had rushed over upon hearing the news, wore expressions of utter disbelief.

Sophia smiled as she guided me before my father. "Father, Alessia has reached marriageable age. Since the Moretti family specifically requested a Falconi daughter... let Alessia be the one to wed into their house."

...

Father frowned at me, his eyes brimming with disgust and calculation.

"But Alessia is a simpleton. Marrying into the Moretti family—what if she makes a fool of herself before Don Antonio and angers that madman Vincenzo Moretti? Our entire family would be ruined!"

Sofia scoffed coldly. "Father, what are you fretting about? That Vincenzo Moretti is a dying man. He was gravely wounded in the family war three years ago and now spends his days in a wheelchair. They say he coughs up more blood than he drinks wine. He won't last much longer. The entire New York underworld is destined to be the Balzini family's domain!"

Her words brimmed with ambition and disdain. "If I marry, it will be to the future king, to become the queen. How could I wed a dying invalid?"

"Since the Moretti family only demands one Falconi daughter to settle that blood debt, isn't Alessia—foolish though she is—also a Falconi?"

Father sighed, turning to look at me. I was clutching a slice of tiramisu, stuffing it into my mouth with abandon, my face smeared with cream. A rare, feigned expression of "affection" stretched across his face.

"Alessia, would you be willing to marry Mr Vincenzo?"

Confused, I looked up at him before burying my face in the cake again, shaking my head indistinctly.

"No. If my sister doesn't want it, I don't want it either."

Father and daughter exchanged a knowing glance and smiled.

"But the Moretti estate has an endless supply of delicacies," Father gestured at the cake in my hand, "and the finest pastry chefs in the world. Every kind of cake imaginable, all you can eat."

My eyes lit up instantly. I nodded vigorously. "Marry! I'll go to the Moretti family!"

With my "consent" secured, Father and Sofia immediately began making arrangements.

The entire Falconi estate knew: Alessia, the dumb mute raised like a dog, was no longer a bastard child. She had transformed into the family's "second young miss," destined for a marriage alliance with the Moretti family.

The day before my departure, Sofia dragged me out for one final "distraction".

I was dumped in a corner of the dock. Spotting Marco approaching in the distance, Sofia rushed towards him, overcome with emotion.

"Marco! I've missed you terribly..."

Marco embraced her, his face etched with worry. "Sofia, I heard the Moretti family wanted a Falconi daughter. I feared Don Falconi would send you. I've been sleepless for nights."

Sofia snorted derisively. "Me marry Vincenzo? Of course that fool will go in my stead. She's nothing but debt collateral."

"Who in the underworld doesn't know Vincenzo's a sickly weakling? His father, Don Antonio, favours his illegitimate son back in Sicily. Vincenzo won't last long. Marrying him means living as a widow while waiting to be purged. It's suicide."

She stroked her belly coyly. "Besides, I'm carrying your child..."

Marco's eyes flashed with wild delight. "Really? Then your marriage to Leo Balzini must be arranged immediately. Once you're Mrs Balzini, don't forget about me..."

"As long as our child becomes the heir to the Balzini family, in time, all of New York will be ours!"

Hidden behind a shipping container, I polished off a bag of crisps, leaving only a trail of crumbs.

Every word of their conversation was crystal clear to me.

So that was it.

Marco’s target had never been the Falcone family—it was the Balzini. He and Sofia intended to use a bastard child to seize a vast Mafia empire.

What audacity.

Though I wonder if that audacity will be their undoing.

Early the next morning, I was shoved into a black Rolls-Royce.

Before getting in, Sofia handed me a glass of water in front of her father, containing a dissolved pill.

Her icy voice threatened in my ear.

"Alesia, remember this: keep your mouth shut about what you shouldn't say."

"Once we're at the Moretti residence, you're a mute, a simpleton. Dare betray the Falconi family, and the next dose of this will rot your guts to shreds. You'll die a more wretched death than a stray dog on the street."

I drank the water expressionlessly. The doors slammed shut, sealing out their hypocritical faces.

Immediately, I forced my fingers deep into my throat with all my strength. After a violent retching, I spat out a pool of bitter fluid, the pill mostly expelled.

Yet I felt a secret, burning ache in my lower abdomen.

This poison was fiercer than I’d imagined.

Half an hour later, the convoy slowly entered a vast estate encircled by forest and high walls. The car stopped before a villa resembling a palace.

A stifled cough sounded from outside.

A slender hand, pale as translucent porcelain, opened the carriage door for me.

I lifted my gaze to meet a handsome yet bloodless face. Seated in a wheelchair, his eyes were as deep and icy as a frozen lake.

Vincenzo Moretti.

"Miss Falconé, marrying me must be a hardship for you."

His voice was low, tinged with a sickly hoarseness, yet strangely pleasing.

As I stepped out, my legs buckled, and I nearly stumbled. He reached out, steadying my arm with surprising firmness.

My heart lurched.

That grip was steady and powerful—utterly unlike that of a long-suffering invalid.

It seemed the heir to the Moretti fortune was an actor too.

...

There was no wedding ceremony, no guests, not even a priest. I was led directly into a vast, empty bedroom. It felt less like a bridal chamber and more like a gilded cage.

The clamour outside held no sway over me. Late into the night, Vincenzo finally rolled in alone on his wheelchair.

The sound of its wheels echoed sharply through the silent room, each click pressing down on my heart. He halted before me, silently appraising me. His gaze was like a scalpel—sharp and cold, as if intent on dissecting me from the inside out.

After a moment, he reached out, attempting to touch my face.

I flinched away.

Then, meeting his eyes, I spoke in a voice rough and unfamiliar, as though unused for ages, enunciating each word deliberately:

"I... am... poison."

His hand froze mid-air, genuine surprise flickering in his eyes. Clearly, he hadn't expected a "fool" to speak, much less utter such words.

I lowered my head and continued in that halting tone, delivering the prepared speech in its entirety.

"My... family... does not favour you. They... wish to defect to the Balzini. They... poisoned me. If you... touch me, you will die."

Vincenzo studied me for an age, so long I thought he might order my execution outright.