Chapter 2

After leaving the church, I returned to the manor alone.

This place I could barely call home had once been my sanctuary, but now it felt cold and alien.

Facing death, I had no desire to linger in this family estate, no desire to be bound by ties of blood or marriage.

I had only come back to pack my belongings, what little I had left.

But as it turned out, there was almost nothing worth packing.

My room had been the smallest storage closet in the house.

The only things inside that belonged to me were a few worn-out clothes and a pathetic collection of personal items.

Even Bianca's walk-in closet was three or four times its size.

I had once thought my own small corner of the world was enough, that I shouldn't ask for more.

But when I pushed the door open, I froze.

Even this tiny space had been transformed into a shrine to Bianca.

Her desk was covered in trophies and certificates from her various social triumphs.

The vanity was replaced with a display case filled with photos of her standing beside the young heirs of various families.

My bed was gone, replaced by a leather sofa. The walls were adorned with stunning photos of her at various galas.

The piano scores I had collected for over a decade were all gone.

Even the music box my grandfather had given me for my tenth birthday was tossed in a corner, covered in a thick layer of dust.

I knelt and gently brushed my fingers over the music box's chipped edges.

Suddenly, my phone rang. It was the administrator of the family cemetery.

"Is this Miss Eleanor? I'm the groundskeeper at the San Antonio Family Cemetery."

"That plot you reserved… Miss Bianca has taken an interest in it. She says it's in a better location."

"We need your confirmation to keep the hold for you. Otherwise, we'll have to release it to her."

I had visited that cemetery not long ago.

It was planted with lush cypresses and neatly trimmed rose bushes. The headstones and urns were made of exquisite marble.

The plot was right next to the Draven family's burial ground.

At the time, I had thought that if my life was to be so full of pain, then at least I could have some dignity in death.

Now, even my final resting place was something Bianca wanted to take from me.

I hesitated for a moment before replying.

"I don't need it anymore."

"Give it to her."

I was no longer a daughter of the Rocci family anyway. I had no intention of being buried in the family cemetery.

Just as I hung up, I saw Draven had returned.

He stood there, his face a dark cloud.

"What were you talking about on the phone? A cemetery plot?"

For a second, I thought he knew.

But then his face twisted in disgust.

"Cursing yourself to die now? What kind of sick joke is this?"

"Are you threatening me, threatening this family with these theatrics?"

"Wasn't humiliating the family at the church enough for you?"

A wave of dizziness washed over me. I had no energy to argue with him. "I'm not threatening anyone," I said calmly.

"Then what's all this about medical records and cemetery plots?"

His shouting sent a fresh spike of pain through my skull. "Bianca has worked so hard to make a name for herself among the Families!"

"Can't you give her a little support instead of using these sick games to steal the spotlight? You just can't stand her, can you?"

I looked at Draven's threatening stance, the words catching in my throat.

And I'm the one who's not welcome here?

Bianca's debut was important, but what about me?

Ever since she arrived, I hadn't had a single proper birthday.

Whenever my birthday approached, Bianca would suddenly come down with a cold or an allergic reaction.

My parents would then drop everything and rush her to the hospital.

For ten consecutive years, a single cough from Bianca would have my parents scrambling for a thermometer.

But my own birthday, my graduation, all my important milestones, they never remembered.

While I waited for a single word of congratulations that never came, they were busy planning Bianca's galas, ordering custom gowns, and preparing all sorts of holiday gifts for her.

I gave him a bitter smile. "Draven, do you remember what day it is?"

He hesitated. "What day?"

"Three years ago today, you proposed to me in this very room."

I gestured to the unrecognizable space around us. "You said you would protect me for the rest of my life."

His expression faltered for a fraction of a second, but his cold mask quickly returned. "Don't bring up the past."

"Don't be so petty."

"Besides, look at the state of you. Do you really think you're worthy of those promises anymore?"

Just then, my father, mother, and Bianca returned.

Their loud voices carried from the hallway before they even entered the room.

"You still have the nerve to bring up anniversaries?"

"You're the one who wanted to break the engagement, and now you're getting sentimental?"

My father's face was livid, the fury in his eyes threatening to consume me.

"You made a mess of Bianca's debut, and yet she cried herself half to death begging us to forgive you!"

"Apologize to your sister right now!"

My mother sighed beside him. "Eleanor, you are twisted. How did I end up with a daughter like you?"

Pathological? Yes, I was certainly sick.

The kind of sick where I had no money for treatment and was about to die.

Bianca came to stand before me, her eyes welling with tears. "Sister, I'm sorry, it's all my fault."

"Don't apologize. I'd love some of your mango scones. Would you make a batch for my celebration, sister?"

Everyone looked at me, waiting for my answer.

A flicker of relief crossed my mother's eyes as she urged me on.

"Isn't that your specialty? Eleanor, Bianca is offering you a way out. You should be grateful. Now, go on!"

I lifted my head and stared directly into Bianca's eyes. "Aren't you deathly allergic to mangoes?"

"Are you asking me to make you scones just so you can frame me for trying to poison you, again?"

The room fell into a dead silence.