The Ritual for the Wrong Daughter

Seven months pregnant, and I was about to be murdered by my own husband. His betrayal was the cold steel at my throat.

He and the family doctor had conspired to harvest stem cells from our unborn child—forcing a premature birth—all to save his precious sister, Cassia. My father, the Don of Chicago, had given his silent consent. To him, the long-lost daughter he’d only just found was an acceptable loss, a pawn to be sacrificed for the family’s stability.

My spirit hovered over the scene as I watched them toast to Cassia's "miraculous recovery." No one shed a tear for me; they didn't even bother to close my eyes.

But when I opened my eyes again, I had returned. I was three months in the past—on the very day the family forced me to sign my marriage annulment.

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1

I stared at the familiar faces in the manor’s study, the long, final wail of a heart monitor still screaming in my ears, pulsing in the silence between my own frantic heartbeats.

"Sera, please... just sign the annulment," my mother, Elena, pleaded, tears carving paths through her perfect makeup. "This is for Cassia!"

She sat in the leather armchair across from me, clutching Cassia’s pale hand, her eyes like daggers.

My father, Don Marco Vitali, stood silhouetted against the massive floor-to-ceiling window, the setting sun casting his imposing figure in cold, hard lines. He was the head of the Vitali family, and his word was absolute.

"Cassia is critically ill. She needs a ritual to purify her bloodline," he stated, his voice devoid of emotion. "Your marriage to Titus was always a tool for the family. Now, it will serve its true purpose."

I rested a hand on my swollen belly, my gaze landing on Titus, seated opposite me. "So you agree? I just sign this and watch you get engaged to Cassia?"

His hands clenched into fists, the veins on his forehead bulging. "Sera, Cassia has been sick her whole life. We grew up together... If you'd never come back—"

"Stop pressuring her!" Cassia interrupted, her voice a fragile whisper. "I know I'm not worthy of Titus... Compared to Sera, I'm nothing..."

She sagged into Titus's arms, and he instinctively pulled her closer.

"Even though Papa and Mamma raised me, even though I grew up with Titus... I'm not a true Vitali, am I?"

"Cassia, don't say that!" Elena’s voice broke as tears welled in her eyes. "You will always be our most beloved daughter."

She whirled on me, the tenderness in her eyes instantly replaced by a venomous glare. "You've always been an outsider, Sera! How can you deny a dying girl's last wish? Have you no heart?"

"This is for the good of the family," my father warned, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Don't be selfish."

"Sera, Cassia is innocent. I thought you understood that family comes first. It's just a ritual—it will keep her alive. Are you really going to be this heartless?" Titus gently stroked her long hair, his gaze then snapping to me, cold as ice.

I stared at the agreement on the table, my hands trembling. In my past life, and now in this one, they always chose Cassia. Without hesitation. Cassia and I had been switched at birth, a cruel twist of fate revealed only last year when I was finally brought into the Vitali family.

At first, I thought I had found a home, a family bound by blood. But from the moment I set foot in this manor, I knew. I would always be the outsider. They blamed me for taking what should have been Cassia's—their affection, and Titus's heart.

But they were the ones who had searched for me, and it was Titus who had knelt and begged me to be his wife.