Chapter 4

"Don't!"

Something inside me snapped. I lunged for the case but was held back by two bodyguards.

When struggling proved futile, I threw myself at Lorenzo's feet and grabbed his pant leg, my voice trembling.

"Uncle, I was wrong, I'm sorry, I'll apologize to her right now… Please, don't burn my parents' things… They're all I have left of them…"

When he showed no reaction, I lunged for a silver candlestick from the fireplace, its flame still burning, and raised my hand to bring it down on my own arm.

The hot bronze handle seared my flesh, but I couldn't stop.

I was that helpless thirteen-year-old girl again, kneeling in the mourning hall as fear and despair burned my last shred of reason to ash.

"Burn me instead! I'll break my own leg for Ava, I'll break both of them! Just don't touch my parents' things. Lorenzo, I'm begging you..."

Lorenzo's face changed. He lunged forward, snatched the candlestick from my hand, and pinned me in a tight grip. His Adam's apple bobbed, but he did not back down. He barked at the bodyguards.

"What are you waiting for? Do it!"

"NO—!"

I watched as the fire in the fireplace roared, and the contents of the box were emptied into it, one by one.

With a whoosh, the orange flames instantly consumed everything.

The small wooden angel my father carved for me. The little woolen coat my mother knitted, my name embroidered on it. The stacks of birthday cards and Christmas letters they wrote me. And the photograph from my parents' wedding day…

I watched as the embroidered ribbon on the little coat curled, blackened, and finally crumbled into tiny pieces of ash.

I stopped struggling.

I sat limply on the floor, my swollen, dry eyes staring blankly into the roaring fire, unable to shed a single tear.

Lorenzo's hand, which had been gripping my wrist, suddenly let go as if he had been burned.

He turned his face away, his voice low.

"Since you know you were wrong, you can stay here and think about what you've done."

He turned and walked out, his steps hurried, stumbling for a moment.

The comments were still tirelessly making excuses for him.

[He's doing this to protect you! The old guard who don't support him are using Ava to pressure him, trying to force him to give up your parents' territory. He's just putting on a show to appease them!]

[Sigh, even if we know why, this is still heartbreaking to watch… Those are the only memories of your parents you have left.]

I had been staring blankly at the fire, but seeing the comments, I noticed a tiny red dot in the corner of the study.

It was a hidden surveillance camera.

I pulled at the corner of my mouth and, before the flames died down, went back up to my bedroom on the second floor.

I went straight upstairs and packed every gift Lorenzo had given me over the past decade into a cardboard box: the custom jewelry, the diamond necklaces, even the custom-made self-defense dagger.

I carried the box downstairs and, in full view of that little red dot, threw every last item into the fireplace, one by one.

The flames leaped up again. This time, I was calm.

I dusted off my hands and went back to my room without a backward glance.

Half an hour later, I walked out of the Moretti estate with my suitcase.

The old maid hurried after me, her eyes red, pressing a soot-stained family photo into my hand.

"I'm so sorry, Principessa. It all happened so fast. This is the only thing I could save."

She hesitated, then sighed.

"Madre said not to hate the Don. He's blinded by a sense of obligation."

I lowered my eyes, my fingertips tracing my parents' faces in the photo, and managed a relieved smile.

"I don't hate him."

I just don't love him anymore.

I tucked the photo into my coat pocket and got into the car.

The driver started the engine, and the tall, black iron fence of the Moretti estate receded from the car window.

I casually opened Instagram, and a new post had just appeared at the top of my feed.

It was Ava's Story. A nine-picture grid of screenshots of her chats with Lorenzo.

When Ava said she was in pain, the ruthless Don flew to Switzerland himself to bring back the top orthopedic specialist.

When Ava couldn't sleep at night, he would cancel a high-stakes meeting to stay by her bedside all night.

The plagiarism scandal didn't affect her at all. Lorenzo donated a library to the university, and she graduated with top honors.

He remembered she liked the French pastries from that impossible-to-book place on the Upper East Side. He remembered she was afraid of gunshots.

Even in the middle of a gang war, a single text from her saying she was scared was enough for him to hand over command and rush back to hold her…

The privileges and tenderness I once thought were reserved for me had been freely lavished on another.

So, in this life and the last, the high and mighty Don had already given his heart to this imposter.

I had simply been a fool, too blind to see the truth, too stupid to dream of disrupting their perfect life.

I leaned against the car window, tears falling as I laughed.

Under that post, the likes and comments were endless. The same family soldiers who once followed me around, calling me "Principessa," were now leaving fawning comments, wishing them a long and happy marriage.

When Lorenzo first brought me into his world, it took them two whole years to grudgingly accept me, the "burden."

Ava had done it in just a few days.

My vision blurred.

I tapped the screen and liked the post.

Lorenzo, I am setting you free.