Chapter 2

“Don’t worry, Pete,” I said calmly. “I don’t want your clothes stained with blood.”

The three women sensed the change in atmosphere and fell silent.

Only the one who most resembled Mia—especially her eyes—stepped forward.

“I’m medically trained,” she said softly. “If you don’t mind, I can bandage your wound.”

“It’s nothing,” I replied. “You should focus on taking care of Pete. That’s why you’re here.”

She lowered her eyes, not daring to respond.

Before everyone could react, Pete smashed another of my favorite pieces of jewelry.

“Does it have to be like this?” he snapped.

“You think picking three impersonators will solve everything?”

“Will you be happy if I bring Mia back?”

“If you want her,” I said calmly, “then bring her back. You’re Don; you can do whatever you want.”

He gritted his teeth, staring intently at me.

“Very well,” he finally spoke, his voice filled with rage. “Very good.”

He took two steps back, then turned and walked away.

“Father!”

Berg called out twice behind him. Peter didn’t turn around.

Berg turned around, his face pale.

“Is this really what you want?” he asked.

I met his gaze, noticing the stiffness in his shoulders and the effort he was making to maintain his composure.

Before, I would have knelt beside him.

I would have carefully chosen my words.

I would have tried to make him understand.

I would have told him not to be afraid—that even if his father and I were fighting, we still loved him. That none of this was his fault.

But I wouldn't do that now.

“If you have something to say,” I replied calmly, “say it. Otherwise, leave.”

His jaw tightened.

“You weren’t like this before,” he said hoarsely. “Mom… you’ve changed. You’re not the same.”

He swallowed, his eyes reddening.

“You used to care,” he went on. “You used to fight for him. You got jealous. You lost control. You chased those women away.”

“But now… you don’t care about anything anymore.”

He paused, his voice dropping.

“About us, either.”

His voice trembled despite himself.

“Do you not love me anymore?” he asked. “Do you not love Dad anymore? Do you not want this family at all?”

“We know we were wrong,” he said quickly, almost desperately. “He knows it. I know it.”

He looked at me, searching my face, as if hoping to find even a crack.

“Why won’t you forgive us?” he asked. “Why won’t you give us another chance?”

I said nothing.

I gestured, and the servants took him away.

I gave a few simple instructions to the women, then let them leave as well.

After the room was empty, my legs gave way, and I collapsed to the floor.

I curled up, a sharp, merciless pain shooting through my chest.

Berg asked me what I wanted.

In my remaining time, I never wanted to see them again.

If it weren’t to prevent this family from falling apart completely, I would never have come back.

I wouldn’t have acted—pretending to be the perfect Donna, turning a blind eye to everything.

Pete moved quickly. Within days, he brought Mia back.

When I heard the news, memories surged up, distant yet vivid, so sharp they were almost unbearable.

It was the memory of the day I learned the truth—when I was nine months pregnant with my second child.

That morning, on my way to church, an inexplicable sense of unease washed over me. Halfway there, I turned back.

I saw Pete helping Mia out of the car. The closeness between them was intimate, undisguised, almost deliberate. They didn’t hesitate. They went straight to my bedroom.

The maids in the manor noticed me at once—their faces stiffening, eyes darting away. No one dared to stop me.

By the time I reached the door, they were already inside.

Completely naked.Lying on my bed.

For a moment, I couldn't accept it.

The man I had loved for twenty years, the man who swore to be good only to me—was sleeping with his adopted sister.

Pete knelt on the floor. He pleaded. He slapped himself hard.

"I was wrong," he cried, "I was wrong, Isabella, this is my first time."

"Did you know I was pregnant?" I asked softly.

I wanted to know if he still loved this child.

Perhaps the child sensed it too—she didn't belong in this family, her father wasn't that kind of person.

A sharp pain struck.

Blood soaked my pale dress, spreading faster than I could comprehend.

Pete was deathly pale. I was terrified. Instinctively, I reached out to grab him—just to steady myself.

He didn't take my hand. He walked past me. He put his arm around Mia.

"You must leave now," he said urgently, "I'll take you away from here."

I blinked, stunned.

I never expected him to do this to me.