I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek until the coppery taste of blood coated my tongue, forcing back the tears that threatened to fall. I would not give them the satisfaction.

“It isn’t about the presents,” I murmured, my voice so thin it barely pierced through the jeering laughter. “It’s about family. About love.”

“Love?” Cole sneered, climbing onto his chair as though ascending a throne, finger outstretched like a judge passing sentence. “You think we’d ever want your love, rat?”

Liam dipped his hand into Adrian’s untouched whiskey glass. When he pulled it out, he held the Lucci family ring, its metal searing hot from fire and liquor, glowing like molten hatred in the dim light.

“Enemies don’t cry, right, Cole?” Liam asked, his tone deceptively playful, like a child reciting a nursery rhyme.

“That’s right,” Cole grinned, teeth sharp. “They don’t cry. They scream.”

Before I could recoil, Liam’s hand clamped around my wrist and slammed it flat onto the oak table with brutal force. The branding ring pressed deep into my flesh. The hiss of scorched skin filled the room. Agony detonated through me — blinding, unbearable, white-hot and bone-deep. Still, I kept my mouth sealed shut, grinding my teeth so hard the metallic tang of blood flooded my mouth.

Liam leaned in close, his words brushing my ear like poison. “You’ll never be one of us, rat. You’re just the stray my father kept around for pity.”

Cole added with a vicious smile, “And when you finally die, we’ll make sure everyone believes you begged for it.”

The crowd erupted with howls of laughter. Hands clapped. Men whistled. My husband — my betrayer — raised his glass and drank, approving silently with his eyes.

And in that moment, something inside me split apart completely. All those nights I had prayed for them, all the blood I had spilled to keep them safe, all the lies I swallowed down — none of it mattered. I was, and would always be, the outsider. The joke. The rat.

But not forever.

---

Hours later, when the laughter had faded and they left me crumpled like refuse, I staggered back to my room.

I peeled the blistered skin from my palm, biting back a cry, and stared at the scar seared into me — jagged, ugly, twisted into the shape of a shattered crown.

I pressed that ruined hand against the cool glass of the mirror, forcing myself to look at the ghost staring back. My reflection, cracked, hollow-eyed.

“I’m leaving the Lucci family,” I whispered to the woman in the glass. “Alive, if fate allows.”

And this time, nothing — not a vow, not a debt, not a broken boy — would stop me.

---

Morning sunlight spilled across my face, but it was cold, indifferent. I felt nothing.

My call was already made — Damien would arrive by midnight to spirit me away. I was finally breaking free. Walking away from Adrian. From this cursed mansion. From this cursed life.

I pulled my coat tighter, the thundering of my heart choking me as I moved toward the east balcony. Today, I would face him. I would demand my freedom. My divorce.

But fate… fate enjoyed cruelty.

Because there he was. Adrian Lucci. The man I once loved like a god. On one knee. A glittering diamond in his hand, shining betrayal into the morning sun.

And kneeling before him — Bianca Peters.

The new consigliere. The sadist who once crushed a man’s hand for speaking out of turn.

Rose petals floated in the air like mockery, a grotesque parody of a fairy tale. Bodyguards clapped. The twins howled their approval.

“Say yes, Bianca!”

“Be our real mother!”

“We don’t want that boring witch anymore!”

The wind hit me like a slap, or maybe it was simply reality, brutal and unrelenting.

Bianca’s laugh rang out, sharp as broken glass.

“Yes, Adrian. A thousand yeses.”

I moved forward slowly, clapping — deliberate, mocking — shattering their performance into jagged pieces.

The sound silenced the crowd. Heads turned.

Adrian’s smile collapsed when his eyes locked on me.

“Valeria—” he began, his tone low and laced with warning.

“Don’t mind me,” I said sweetly, the kind of sweet that could rot teeth. “Congratulations to the happy couple.”

Adrian’s jaw twitched, his eyes burning.

Before he could spit his venom, Liam darted toward me. For the briefest, most foolish heartbeat, hope flared inside me. Maybe he remembered. Maybe—

Then I saw what he carried, and the hope died viciously.

The photograph.

The last picture of me and my mother. The only one I had left after they destroyed the rest of the album.

My chest seized.

“Give it back, Liam,” I said, voice trembling with restrained fury.

He smirked, his father’s reflection etched in his face.

“Why? It’s garbage. Just like you.”

And he threw it.

Straight into the flames of the balcony’s fire pit.

The photo curled and blackened instantly. My mother’s smile dissolved into ash, gone forever.

I didn’t dive for it. I didn’t scream. I just stood there. Shattering in silence as their laughter — Liam’s, Cole’s, Bianca’s syrupy giggle — filled the air.

Something in me cracked deeper.

I turned, slow, firelight blazing in my eyes.

“You little—” I began, stepping forward, but Adrian’s iron grip caught my arm mid-motion.

Adrian.

Always him.

He wrenched me back, his hold bruising.

“You’ve gone mad,” he hissed, his breath hot against my ear.

I looked at him — really looked. And for the first time, I didn’t see the man I once adored. I saw only a tyrant wrapped in silk and steel.

I smiled — cold, sharp, unafraid.

“Go ahead, Adrian. Cage me. Chain me to your floor if you must. But hear me—” I leaned closer, flames crackling like applause behind me.

“One day, I’ll get free. And when I do, I’ll reduce your entire empire to rubble with my bare hands.”

“ENOUGH!” he bellowed.

The guests went still. Guards averted their eyes, pretending not to listen. Even the twins quieted, stunned by the venom in his tone.

“What kind of ungrateful woman humiliates her Don in front of his people?” Adrian growled into my ear, his voice a private blade.

“You’re dead to me, Valeria,” Liam muttered, his words like ice.

I laughed. A sound too sharp, too brittle. Because if I didn’t laugh, I would have broken completely.

“You have no idea,” I whispered under my breath.

Bianca sauntered toward me, smugness dripping like venom. She placed one manicured hand against her stomach, her crimson nails gleaming like blood.

“Oh, and one more thing…” she cooed, voice syrupy sweet. “I’m pregnant. With Adrian’s child.”

The ground tilted. The world spun. My knees weakened, but I refused to crumble. Not here. Not in front of them.

Instead, I smiled.

“Perfect,” I said softly. “Then I’ll bury you beside him.”

Adrian’s grip tightened until pain threatened to snap my bones. “How dare you—”

“I WANT A DIVORCE!” I screamed.

He froze. His lips curved into something cruel. “No. You’ll stay. You’ll raise my sons. You’ll serve Bianca, my queen. And if you obey…” He leaned close, his breath icy on my cheek. “Maybe I’ll let you live.”

Tears stung my eyes, but I blinked them away. I would not cry. Not for him. Not for any of them.

Instead, I lifted my chin and smiled, razor-sharp.

“Over my dead body,” I whispered.

And for the first time in eleven long years, I meant every syllable.

Packing what little belonged to me became the last tether to survival. Each second I lingered, the air in this cursed mansion thickened, suffocating me with ghosts of memories that should have been sanctuary. None of it mattered anymore.

I yanked the suitcase from the bed, dragging it down the staircase, every thud of its wheels against the wood reminding me this was real—reminding me I was about to sever the final tie. I needed to be gone yesterday. My fingers brushed the doorknob, freedom just inches away, when her voice snapped through the silence like a whip.

“Don’t you dare move!”

Bianca.

She stood at the top of the staircase like some cheap actress, trembling as though fragile, cloaked in false purity. But her eyes betrayed her — wild, manic, gleaming with something venomous.

“Running away already?” she jeered, lips curling into a smile that was more barbed wire than warmth. “What’s wrong, Valeria? Can’t stomach seeing everything that used to be yours? The man you let slip through your hands?”

I looked at her, my face an empty mask, my heartbeat steady. No tears. No fury. Just nothing.

She slinked down the stairs, each step drawn out like a predator circling prey. “You know,” she whispered, sharp as a blade, “last night Adrian didn’t even say your name once. He screamed mine. Over and over…” She giggled, the sound nauseating. “He begged me to carry his son.”

I blinked. Just once. That was all. It was enough to rattle her. She faltered, confusion flickering in her painted face. She craved my breakdown—my screams, sobs, begging. Instead, she got marble.

That’s when she struck.

She gasped sharply, stumbling forward like a damsel in a staged tragedy. In a single, sweeping motion, she pulled a small knife from beneath her dress and plunged it against a blood pouch sewn into her fabric. Crimson bloomed across her stomach in an instant, staining her pale skin, spreading wide and theatrical. Her shriek tore through the halls like a banshee’s cry.

“She stabbed me! SHE STABBED ME!” Bianca shrilled, collapsing onto the floor in a heap, writhing in manufactured agony.

I didn’t flinch. Didn’t move. Just watched her with hollow eyes.

The thunder of boots rattled the floorboards. Adrian burst into view, shoving his men aside, his expression wild with panic when he spotted her.

“What the hell is going on?!” he roared.

“She—” Bianca wailed, pointing a shaking finger at me, “SHE DID THIS! If you really love me, make her pay. Or I swear—” she gasped dramatically, clutching her stomach, “—I’ll disappear forever. I’ll take our child and you’ll never see us again!”

Adrian’s face twisted, a storm of fury and madness. He didn’t hesitate. Not for a second.

“Seize her!” he bellowed.

Hands like iron clamped onto my arms, jerking me backward. My suitcase toppled, the crash echoing through the marble foyer.

“LET ME GO!” I screamed, thrashing against their grip, my throat raw with desperation. “I never touched her! I never touched her!”

But my words bounced uselessly off deaf ears. No one ever listened. Not to me.

“Get Bianca to the hospital!” Adrian barked. His soldiers swarmed her, cradling her like fragile porcelain, while I was dragged like a dog to slaughter.

Bianca peeked over Adrian’s shoulder, her wet cheeks stretched into a wicked grin of victory.

I gave her something at last—just not what she longed for. I smiled, cold, sharp as glass.

“You’ll choke on those lies, Bianca,” I said, my voice slicing clean through the chaos. “And when you do, remember—you begged for it.”

Her mask cracked.

Good.

But before I could savor the moment, pain exploded across my face. CRACK. Adrian’s hand, heavy as a hammer, struck me sideways. My head whipped violently. The taste of blood filled my mouth, metallic and sharp. I coughed once and spat crimson onto the pristine marble. Silence devoured the room.

Even Bianca flinched.

Adrian towered above me, chest heaving, fists still balled as though he longed to strike again.

“You’re nothing,” he growled, his voice venom wrapped in ice. “A worthless stain I should’ve erased from this world years ago.”

Blood dripped from my mouth as I wiped it with the back of my bound hands. And I smiled—bloody, defiant.

“This stain,” I rasped, “is going to destroy you.”

The cuffs dug deeper into my wrists. But I no longer resisted. This wasn’t surrender. This was declaration. This was war, and it was only beginning.

---

The Lucci council sat before me like an unfeeling jury of stone. And then came my sons—Liam and Cole. My twins. My blood.

They stepped forward, voices steady, swearing they had seen me try to murder Bianca. Their testimony was smooth, polished, each syllable laced with poison. Lies that had been rehearsed until they were second nature.

“You’ve gone too far, Valeria,” Adrian pronounced, his voice colder than any winter. “You’ve become a danger. And this is the price you’ll pay.”

Before I could reply, his men dragged me again, hauling me like a carcass down endless halls. Toward the underground vault. A tomb for traitors. A place no one ever returned from.

The door slammed shut with a metallic clang, sealing me in. Darkness swallowed me whole.

Time unraveled—hours, days, weeks? Meaningless.

All that existed was the dark. And then—the sounds.

At first, faint sobbing. A girl’s voice, fragile and distant. Then whispers, slithering through the air, dozens layered upon dozens. Some I almost recognized. Others not at all. None of them right.

And then—the chanting. Low. Guttural. As though demons themselves crawled upward from the pit of hell to sing in my ears.

The voices seeped into me, threading under my skin. I clawed at my scalp, shrieking for silence, but the vault only hurled my screams back at me, warped, louder, monstrous.

Footsteps cut through the madness. Deliberate. Steady.

The lock turned. The door creaked.

Liam and Cole entered.

Their grins were carved from cruelty. Two devils walking into the cage of their plaything.

“Well, well,” Cole sneered, eyes glowing with malice. “Look at the rat in her trap.”

“You really thought you could get away?” Liam tilted his head, his voice mocking, dissecting me like prey beneath glass.

The lights flickered. Their silence stretched. Then Cole lifted a small device in his hand and pressed a button.

The speakers screamed alive with sound.

A little girl crying—“Mommy, please, stop!”

Then laughter—my laughter—warped, reversed, twisted until it no longer sounded human.

Then more crying. Layered. Hundreds. Thousands.

I stumbled backward into the corner, trembling.

“Why are you doing this?” I gasped. “I’m… I’m your mother. Not Vivienne. She stole you from me.”

They froze. For a breath.

Then Liam burst into a laugh so cruel it echoed like glass shattering.

“Our mother?” he spat.

“If you were our mother, I’d rather slit my own throat,” Cole snarled. “What a disgusting joke.”

“Nice try, rat,” Liam sneered. “You’re rotting down here already.”

Tears stung my eyes, but I forced the words out. “I carried you. I named you. They renamed you when they took you, but I know who you are—”

“Shut the fuck up!” Liam snapped, his voice a lash. “You’re not real. You’re just a phantom we conjured to test how much filth we could endure.”

Cole leaned close, his breath icy at my cheek. “Say that again,” he whispered, deadly calm, “and the next sound you’ll hear will be your skull breaking.”

Their laughter chased them as they left.

The door stayed unlocked.

They wanted me to flee. A new game. A fresh torment.

With a snarl, I forced myself forward. Rats clung to my legs, biting deep, but I didn’t stop. Blood ran down my calves. My lungs burned raw. But I shoved the door open and stumbled into the corridor.

I staggered through the halls, half-falling into the courtyard. For one fleeting heartbeat, I was free. The gate stood there, so close I could taste it.

Then I saw them.

Liam and Cole. Waiting at the gate like executioners, grins carved into their faces.

“You really thought you’d make it out, didn’t you?” Liam called, his tone dripping with false pity.

Cole raised something from behind his back. A weapon. Heavy. A rifle—except not for bullets.

No, they wouldn’t let me die. Not yet.

“Run, little mouse,” Cole taunted, leveling the weapon lazily. “No matter how far you go, we’ll always catch you.”

My heart thundered so violently I couldn’t hear my breath. My body still moved. One step. Then another.

Closer.

Closer.

Closer to the gate.

I almost reached it.

Then—

THWIP.

I staggered forward, my heartbeat pounding so loud it drowned out everything else. My lungs burned, but instinct pushed my body onward. One step. Another.

Closer.

Closer to the gate.

Freedom was right there. I could almost touch it.

And then—

THWIP.

The sound sliced through the air, followed by a savage eruption of pain in my thigh. A ragged scream tore from my throat as my body folded, crashing against the hard ground.

I looked down through blurred vision and saw it: a thick dart, barbed and cruel, buried deep into my leg. Blue sparks crawled along the wire attached to it, hissing and crackling as electricity tore through my veins.

A shock dart.

My muscles convulsed violently, every nerve screaming as if my body itself was being incinerated from within. I writhed, twitching helplessly, the agony so fierce it blurred the edges of the world into a spinning haze.

I collapsed in a broken heap, the gate—freedom—just meters away.

So close.

So devastatingly close.

Above me, echoing across the courtyard, came Cole’s victorious laughter—razor-sharp and merciless.

“Well, look at that,” Liam drawled, his voice carrying a lazy, mocking amusement. “She nearly made it. Nearly.”

Their boots crunched against the gravel, their footsteps slow, deliberate, as if savoring the moment.

Then another voice cut through the night, booming and furious.

Adrian.

His roar carried pure rage, but I was already slipping under. My body shook with aftershocks of pain, my limbs jerking uncontrollably. Darkness crept into my vision, swallowing the courtyard, dulling the fire in my nerves into a numbed, hollow ache.

The last thing I heard before the world went black was Adrian bellowing my name, as though shouting it could drag me back to him.

---

The next time my eyes opened, harsh fluorescent light stabbed down from above. It flickered unsteadily, like it was mocking me.

Adrian stood at the foot of the bed, arms folded across his chest, his shadow stretching long. His expression was unreadable—until the corners of his lips twisted upward in a faint, cruel smirk.

“You really thought those words would mean something?” he said, his tone low, edged with amusement. “Did you believe the boys would look at you differently? That they’d call you their mother?”

My throat burned, raw from earlier screams, but I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. My body still trembled, shuddering with lingering jolts from the electricity.

He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing like blades cutting into me. “They don’t believe you. They never will.”

A humorless chuckle slipped from his mouth. “You should’ve seen them when they told me about you. They laughed at you, Valeria. Laughed like you were nothing but entertainment. A sideshow.”

I swallowed hard, my throat tight.

Adrian stepped closer, the temperature of the room plummeting with his presence.

“This… this is the price you pay,” he said, his voice suddenly hard and cold, each word a nail hammered into me. “For daring to harm my child.”

His eyes burned with conviction, and then the blade twisted deeper.

“My child with Bianca.”

The words hit harder than any dart.

I clenched my fists, the restraints digging painfully into my skin, metal biting against flesh. He didn’t care. He never cared.

“You’re nothing now,” he murmured, his tone almost soft, but dripping venom. “You’re a shadow. A problem I should’ve erased long ago.”

Then, with a sudden shift, his voice became mocking again—silk covering steel.

“But…” He tilted his head, lips curving. “If you’re ready to crawl, to beg, I might grant you mercy. I’ll let you out of this bed, let you sleep in a guest room instead of being locked in the vault like the rat you are.”

He let the silence stretch, savoring it.

“All you need to do is say it. Say you’re sorry. Say Bianca is better. Admit you were jealous. Admit you were nothing but a mistake.”

He smiled as if he’d just offered me salvation.

Then he turned and walked out, slamming the door shut with finality.

And I was alone again—strapped down to a hospital bed in Adrian’s private clinic. The air reeked of antiseptic and control. Two guards loomed outside the door, ready to follow his orders without hesitation, even if it meant putting a bullet in me.

Pain radiated through every limb, but I refused to shed a single tear. Crying wouldn’t save me. Not anymore.

Time slipped away—minutes, maybe hours. The sterile lights buzzed overhead.

The door opened again. This time, it wasn’t Adrian.

A man in hospital scrubs walked in, clipboard in hand. He didn’t meet my gaze, just muttered curtly, “We need her for a CT scan.”

One of the guards blocked his path. “She’s not leaving unless—”

The man snapped open his badge, flashing credentials too quickly to challenge. “Direct orders from Adrian. You want to be the one explaining to him why she missed her imaging?”

The guards exchanged a wary glance, then stepped aside.

The man wheeled my bed out into the hall. The corridor stretched long, walls blindingly white, lights humming overhead.

The elevator doors slid open. Once we were inside, away from prying eyes, the man finally leaned closer.

My heart stopped.

“Damien?” I rasped, my voice hoarse with disbelief.

His lips curved into a tight smile. “Took you long enough to recognize me, sister.”

Shock rooted me in place. I couldn’t form words.

Then, from his pocket, he produced a small set of keys and a scalpel.

By the time the elevator doors opened again, the restraints were gone. I was standing on my own legs, weak but upright, cloaked in a coat he’d slipped around my shoulders. Together, we slipped through the service exit unnoticed.

The night air hit me like a tidal wave of freedom.

I don’t remember where Damien took me—only that it was far enough, safe enough.

For days I lay in his apartment, healing. My body screamed with pain, every bone and muscle demanding rest. Nightmares clawed at me, dragging me back into darkness every time I closed my eyes.

But I was alive.

Alive—and blazing with rage.

One night, staring up at the cracked ceiling, I whispered into the silence, “I’m going to make them pay. For all of it. The lies. The twins. Adrian. Bianca. Every scar they carved into me.”

Damien’s eyes, steady and sharp, met mine. He nodded once. “Then we begin. No more chains. No more cages.”

I turned toward him, my voice stronger than it had been in weeks.

“I’ll go back,” I said, certainty hardening every syllable. “But not as their victim.”

I paused, my eyes cold, my blood steady.

“I’ll return as their reckoning.”