Chapter 2

It was nearly midnight, but the house was still lit like a command center.

The family doctor had taken over the sitting room. Specialists moved in and out. Viola sat in the middle of it all with a bandage at her temple. Luca stood beside her. Matthias was crouched in front of one of the doctors. Enzo stayed a few steps away, watching the room with that dangerous stillness of his.

I made my way down the hall with one hand on the wall.

The pain in my head was driving deeper by the second. I stopped in front of one of the specialists and barely got the words out.

“Doctor, my head…”

Luca turned and saw me.

“Nerina. Enough.”

He crossed the room, caught my arm, and took me upstairs.

“These people are here because Viola is hurt, not because you’ve decided to make another scene.”

My legs nearly gave out on the stairs. By the time we reached my room, he had pushed me inside and shut the door. A second later, I heard the lock turn.

I crouched by the bed, pulled open the nightstand drawer, found the bottle, and swallowed the pills dry.

Then I sat there on the floor and let the bitterness sit on my tongue.

I had been raised in the Cavalli house long before anyone started calling it temporary. The couple who first took me in died when I was still young, and the Cavallis kept me after that. By the time my biological mother finally found me years later and asked me to leave with her, I couldn’t do it.

I stayed because leaving them felt impossible.

Then Viola arrived.

She collapsed outside the gates, and I was the one who brought her in. From the day she woke up, I started vanishing by degrees.

The door flew open before the pills had done much.

Matthias and Enzo came in together. Matthias had a stack of papers in his hand. He threw them at me, and they scattered across the floor.

“I didn’t realize your jealousy ran this deep,” he said. “What exactly have you been doing to her when we aren’t around?”

Enzo looked worse.

“Her evaluation just came back. Chronic fear. Anxiety. Trauma response. Paranoia.” He let out a short, cold laugh. “I didn’t think you had it in you to be this cruel.”

They left as quickly as they came.

I bent down and picked up the pages one by one.

They were Viola’s reports.

Someone had laid everything out neatly. Malnutrition. Emotional abuse. Intimidation. Prolonged distress. Persecutory thinking. It read like a script.

I carried the papers downstairs.

Most of the doctors were gone by then. The lights were still on in the sitting room, and so were they. Viola sat wrapped in a blanket. Her wound had already been cleaned and dressed. Luca was peeling an apple for her. Matthias had an arm around her shoulders. Enzo stood nearby, watching her like she might come apart if he looked away.

He saw me first.

“What are you doing down here?” he asked. “Waiting for us to look away so you can go after her again?”

Viola looked up at once, eyes already wet.

“Nerina, I know this is my fault.”

That was all it took.

Luca set the apple down and reached for tissues. Matthias bent closer, speaking low to her. Enzo stopped looking at me altogether.

I stood there another second, then turned around.

I had come down to defend myself. I did not bother.

Back in my room, the portrait was still hanging on the wall.

It had been painted years ago, when the four of us still looked like we belonged to one another.

I tore it down, pulled a pair of scissors from the drawer, and drove the blades through the canvas until it split. Then I threw the ruined portrait into the fireplace and set it alight.

I stayed there until all that was left was ash.