Chapter Two

GINEVRA

I don't remember much about the drive home. Everything felt like a blur. One moment, I was standing on a busy street in Milan, staring at the second photograph Beatrice had sent me, and the next, I was pulling into the driveway of our house. The brown hospital folder was sitting on the passenger seat beside me, and every time I looked at it, I was reminded that my life now had a countdown.

Our house, or rather Leandro's house, stood in front of me with its expensive decorations and huge glass windows. It was beautiful, large, and impressive, but I had never truly felt that it was mine. Everything about the place spoke of wealth and status, yet somehow it had never given me the warmth I had once hoped to find in a home.

It had not always felt this cold. There had been a time when the house was filled with laughter, when I believed I had finally found the family I had always wanted. I remained in the car for several minutes, staring at the house while memories of the past came rushing back. I remembered the first time I arrived in Milan three years ago, carrying very little with me because I had been running from my family and the life they had planned for me.

My family had expected me to marry a business partner's son, a man I had never even met, simply because the marriage would have helped strengthen their business connections. They wanted me to be the obedient daughter, the perfect heiress who would smile, say yes, and give up her future to secure another corporate deal. They had already decided what my life would look like, and they expected me to accept it without question.

But I wanted something different. I wanted to fall in love, to choose the man I would marry, and to build a life that belonged to me. I wanted real love, not a marriage arranged around money and business.

The accident happened on my second day in Milan. I had been so worried about staying hidden from my family that I was not paying enough attention to the traffic light when I crossed the road. A car struck me, although the accident was not serious enough to cause major injuries. I was shaken and had a few minor injuries, but I was still frightened and confused as I sat on the side of the road.

Then Leandro appeared.

He helped me to my feet and insisted on taking me to the hospital. He stayed with me while the doctors examined me and made sure I had everything I needed. When he asked about my family, I lied and told him that I was an orphan. At the time, it seemed safer than telling him the truth about who I really was and why I had run away from one of the most powerful families in Bologna.

Leandro had been so kind to me back then. He was patient, gentle, and always seemed interested in what I had to say. We fell into a relationship quickly, and when he proposed after only three months, I accepted without hesitation. I truly believed I had found my fairy tale, the man who would love me and give me the happy ending I had always dreamed about.

I had been so foolish.

A sharp pain in my stomach suddenly pulled me back to the present. I pressed a hand against my abdomen and waited for the pain to ease enough for me to breathe normally again. The pain had been getting worse for months, but I had always blamed it on stress and anxiety. I had told myself that my constant worry was caused by the growing distance between Leandro, Nico, and me, and I never imagined that something much more serious was happening inside my body.

Now I knew the truth.

I picked up the hospital folder and stepped out of the car. Every step toward the house felt heavier than the last, but I forced myself to keep moving. When I opened the front door, I was greeted by silence. Usually, I would hear Nico laughing somewhere in the house or his favorite cartoons playing from the television, but today there was nothing.

Nico was not here.

He was at Gardaland with Leandro and Beatrice, probably having the time of his life and forgetting that I even existed.

"Ginevra? Is that you?"

I stopped in the middle of the foyer.

I knew that voice immediately. The coldness in it made my stomach tighten, and I turned to see Ottavia Bellandi, Leandro's mother, standing in the hallway.

"Where is Nico?" she demanded, looking behind me as though she expected to see him walking through the door. "Don't tell me you left him somewhere again."

I tightened my grip around the hospital folder and tried to keep my voice steady. "You should ask your son that question."

Ottavia raised an eyebrow. "What is that supposed to mean? How can a mother not know where her own child is?"

Her words hurt, especially after what Nico had said to me earlier. I could feel my emotions rising, but I refused to give her the satisfaction of seeing me lose control.

"Leandro took him three days ago."

Ottavia immediately pulled out her phone and began scrolling through it. I watched her face change as she looked at whatever was on her screen. The annoyance disappeared, replaced by a pleased smile that made me uneasy.

"Oh, how wonderful," she said. "He's at Gardaland with Beatrice. They're having such a lovely time. I told them not to rush home because Nico deserves a proper vacation."

I stared at her in disbelief. She spoke as though there was nothing wrong with my husband taking our son on a trip with another woman, and the casual way she accepted it made my blood boil.

"You don't think that's inappropriate?" I asked, my voice shaking despite my effort to remain calm. "Your son is away with another woman, and he has taken my child with him instead of bringing him home. You honestly think that's wonderful?"

Ottavia's smile did not disappear. If anything, it became wider as she slowly shrugged.

"Beatrice is a tennis star, Ginevra. She's successful, elegant, and accomplished. Of course it is better for Nico to spend time with someone like her rather than..."

She stopped and looked me up and down.

I already knew what she meant.

"Rather than his own mother?" I asked quietly.

"Rather than someone who has nothing to offer him," she replied without hesitation. "Beatrice can teach him about excellence and ambition. She can show him what it means to succeed. What can you teach him? How to be ordinary?"

Her words cut deeply, but Ottavia was not finished.

"Besides, Beatrice is Leandro's former girlfriend. They have history. They have a connection that never truly disappeared. It is natural for him to want to spend time with her now that she is back in Milan."

"He's my husband now," I said, although my voice sounded weaker than I wanted it to.

Ottavia laughed.

It was not a warm laugh. She looked at me as though I had just said something ridiculous, then wiped the corner of her eye as if I had entertained her.

"Oh, sweetheart," she said. "Do you really not know?"

I frowned. "Know what?"

She stepped closer, and the expensive perfume she wore filled the space between us.

"Do you honestly not understand why Leandro married you in the first place?"

My heart began to pound.

"What are you talking about?"

"You look like her," Ottavia said simply.

I stared at her.

"Beatrice," she continued. "Although you're a much poorer version of her."

My fingers tightened around the folder.

"When Leandro was heartbroken after Beatrice left to pursue her tennis career, I told him it was time to settle down. I told him he needed to marry and have an heir. Then you appeared, young, foolish, completely in love with him, and you happened to look enough like Beatrice to catch his attention."

Every word felt like a knife cutting deeper into my chest.

"If you didn't look like Beatrice, Leandro wouldn't have looked at you twice," Ottavia continued. "A woman with no family, no background, no money, and no future? Please. You were simply available, and you were good enough for the time being."

The hospital folder slipped from my hands.

The papers scattered across the marble floor, but I barely noticed them. Ottavia glanced down and saw the hospital letterhead among the papers, yet she did not ask a single question. She simply looked away as though my pain meant nothing to her.

"Now that Beatrice is back, things can return to the way they were meant to be," she said. "Leandro can be with the woman he truly loves, and Nico can have a proper mother figure. Someone worthy of the Bellandi name."

She stepped over my medical papers and walked toward the door without showing even the slightest concern for what she had just done to me.

"I'm going to call Leandro and tell him to enjoy his time with Beatrice and Nico," she said over her shoulder. "They'll come home when they're ready. Don't wait up."

The door closed behind her with a quiet click.

I stood alone in the empty foyer, staring at the door while her words repeated themselves in my head.

For the first time, I understood the truth.

I had never been Leandro's choice.

I had only been his replacement.

His consolation prize.

Everything I had believed about our marriage, every memory I had treasured and every moment I thought we had shared because we loved each other, suddenly felt like a lie.

I slowly sank to the floor and began gathering the papers with trembling hands. My medical reports lay scattered around me, and under different circumstances, they would have been the most frightening thing in my life. But now, somehow, even the cancer felt easier to face than the truth about my marriage.

A sob escaped my throat, and I quickly covered my mouth with one hand as tears filled my eyes.

I had spent three years believing I was Leandro's wife because he had chosen me.

Now I knew I had only ever been a replacement for the woman he had truly wanted.