Chapter 3

The next afternoon, a servant knocked on my door.

"Miss Vera. The lady of the house requests your presence in the tearoom."

I sat up, confused. The tearoom was where my mother entertained guests—not where she summoned me.

I washed my face, changed into the least worn of my dresses, and walked upstairs.

The tearoom was elegant—lace curtains, porcelain cups, the smell of jasmine tea. My mother sat at the table, already pouring two cups. She looked up as I entered and gestured to the chair across from her.

"Sit."

I sat.

She pushed a cup toward me, then folded her hands on the table.

"Vera, we need to talk about your future."

I waited. My heart hammered against my ribs.

"Luca and I have discussed this," she continued. "Sofia's coming-of-age ceremony is next month. After that, she'll officially be named the family heir. But she can't do it alone. She needs someone she trusts—someone who understands how this household works—to support her."

"Mother—"

"Let me finish." Her voice was calm but firm. "You're smart, Vera. You've always been good with numbers, with organization. That's why I've convinced Luca to let you take over the administrative work for the estate. Ledgers, records, paperwork. You'll be Sofia's right hand—her secretary, her advisor. When she inherits everything, you'll have a permanent place by her side. You'll never have to worry about being cast out."

I stared at her.

"Sofia is Luca's only daughter. His blood. She will inherit everything. And if you're indispensable to her—if you make yourself useful—you'll have security for life. We both will."

I opened my mouth to tell her about Harvard. About the acceptance letter. About the life I'd built in secret.

But I knew what would happen. She'd guilt me. She'd cry. She'd remind me of everything she'd sacrificed. She'd make me feel like a monster for wanting my own life.

So instead, I said: "What if I don't want that?"

My mother's face flickered—surprise, then something harder.

"Don't be ungrateful, Vera. This is an opportunity. Do you know how many girls would kill for a position like this? You'll have status. Respect. A future."

"I have a future," I said quietly. "I have—"

I stopped myself.

Not yet. Not until I was ready to leave.

My mother studied me, her eyes narrowing slightly. "You've been strange lately. Distant. If you're planning something foolish, Vera, I need to know."

"I'm not planning anything. I'm just tired."

She watched me for a long moment. Then she sighed.

"Think about what I've said. This is for your own good."

I nodded, stood, and walked back to the basement.

That night, I pulled out the acceptance letter again. The ink was still sharp, the words still clear.

---