Chapter--6

[Lena’s POV — Continuation — Dining Area]

The dining room fell into a strange silence, not loud, not tense. Just… cold. Every gaze at the table rested on me, measuring, judging and waiting. I sat there calmly, my hands resting lightly on the table, as if I didn’t notice it at all.

Then—A soft cough broke the silence.

Mr. Alessandro Mancini, he placed his cup down with quiet precision before speaking.

“Alright…” His voice was calm, controlled, but distant. “Joining the company immediately might be… inconvenient.”

A pause.

His eyes flickered toward me briefly.

“Perhaps it would be better if you start with something simpler.” His tone didn’t change.

“…Household duties.”

Of course.

A faint smile almost appeared on my lips.

So that was the conclusion, the earlier offer had never been real. It was just a formality.

A test.

Why would the Mancini family ever allow someone from the Carter family into their business?

Into their core? Into their trust?

They wouldn’t, and they never would.

I lowered my gaze slightly. My voice was soft, compliant and unbothered as i said, “As you wish.”

Across the table, Mrs. Mancini—Isabella Mancini—adjusted her napkin gracefully before looking at me.

“Dear,” she said gently. “I’ll have someone show you around the house after breakfast.”

Her tone was warmer than the others, but it carried distance and politeness, not acceptance.

I met her gaze and nodded faintly, “Yes, Mrs. Mancini.”

A small, proper answer nothing more and nothing less. But even as I spoke...I could feel it.

A gaze lingering on me, an… attentive and curious gaze.

I shifted my eyes slightly, and met hers.

Clara Bennett.

She was watching me, her expression was still soft. Still gentle, but her eyes…They weren’t as simple as they appeared.

There was something behind them, something observant and something calculating. In every previous life, I had barely spoken to her.

Our interactions were brief, superficial, and always ended the same way. But one thing I had learned through repetition...Through watching...through failing was this:

Clara Bennett was not an angel, not the innocent girl the story painted her to be, not entirely.

A faint smile touched her lips as our eyes met. Warm, friendly and perfect.

I looked away first.

Uninterested.

Unmoved.

“Marie.” Isabella’s voice cut gently through the air.

A maid immediately stepped forward from the side, “Yes, Madam.”

“Show Lena around the house after breakfast.”

The maid lowered her head respectfully, “Of course, Madam.”

I rose slowly from my seat, smooth and composed. As if I hadn’t just been quietly pushed into a corner of this family.

“…Thank you.” My voice remained calm.

Then, without waiting for further conversation...I stepped away from the table, but even as I walked...I could still feel it.

That gaze.

Clara’s.

Following me and watching. As if trying to understand something…that didn’t fit into the story she knew.

***

[Later — Mansion Tour]

“Please follow me, Miss.”

Marie’s voice was soft, practiced, and professional.

I nodded once and walked beside her.

The moment we stepped out of the dining hall, the noise of cutlery and conversation faded behind us, replaced by the quiet, almost suffocating silence of the mansion.

“This way.”

She led me down a long corridor, tall ceilings and white marble floors. Walls decorated with expensive paintings that looked like they belonged in a museum rather than a home.

Every step echoed, every corner felt… distant.

“This is the west wing,” Merie explained politely. “Mostly used for guests and formal gatherings.”

Of course.

That’s where I belonged.

A guest, not a member of the family. We turned left, and she opened a set of tall glass doors. A soft breeze brushed against my face.

“The pool area,” she said.

I stepped outside, the view was… beautiful. A large, crystal-clear pool stretched across the center, reflecting the morning sunlight like liquid glass.

White lounge chairs were neatly arranged around it. Tall palm trees swayed gently at the edges.

It looked like something out of a luxury resort, peaceful, perfect, and empty.

I walked a few steps forward, my heels clicking softly against the tiles.

“…Nice.”

The word slipped out without much thought.

Marie glanced at me, as if surprised I had commented at all.

“This area is usually used in the evenings,” she added. “The young masters often entertain guests here.”

I hummed faintly.

Of course they did.

I already know.

Music, Laughter, and wine. Clara standing in the center of it all.

And me? Nowhere.

We moved on, back inside. Up another staircase.

“This is the gallery.” Marie pushed open another set of doors.

Inside, a long hallway stretched ahead, lined with portraits, generations of the Mancini family. Men in tailored suits, women in elegant gowns. All of them carried the same expression.

Pride, authority and...belonging.

I walked slowly, my gaze moving from one portrait to another, each frame told the same story.

Power, legacy and bloodline.

And then—

There was no space for someone like me.

“…They look like they own the world,” I murmured.

Marie didn’t respond. Perhaps she didn’t know how, or perhaps she simply wasn’t allowed to.

I walked slowly, my gaze continued drifting from one frame to another....until it stopped.

At the center of the gallery, on a single portrait, larger than the rest.

A family picture.

Mr. Mancini.

Mrs. Mancini.

Salvatore.

Lorenzo.

And—

Clara.

She stood between them, smiling softly, perfectly placed and perfectly fitting. As if she had always belonged there.

As if that space had always been meant for her.

My steps came to a halt, and without warning....the memory surfaced.

***

[A Memory]

“We should take another family portrait.” Lorenzo’s voice echoed lightly through the room, casual, almost playful.

Mr. Mancini glanced up from his documents as he asked flatly, “…Why? we already have one.”

Lorenzo leaned back in his chair, his lips curling into a faint smirk.

“Because,” he said slowly, his gaze sliding toward me, “our family has grown, hasn’t it?”

A brief silence followed, the air shifted and then—

“Don’t say unnecessary things.” Salvatore’s voice cut through the room, sharp, cold, and final.

Lorenzo raised an eyebrow, amused.

“Oh? Is that so?”

Salvatore didn’t even look at him, his gaze moved instead...toward me, cold and indifferent, like I wasn’t even worth acknowledging.

“We haven’t gained anything,” he said.

A pause, then, with quiet emphasis—

“The extra here…” His eyes locked onto mine. “…is just a guest.”

Each word fell slowly and deliberately.

“As it should be."

***

[Back to Present]

My eyes remained fixed on the portrait, unmoving and unblinking.

A perfect family, perfect positions, perfect smiles, and no place for someone like me. Beside me, I could feel Marie’s gaze flicker toward my face.

Observing.

But I didn’t react, didn’t linger and didn’t let anything show. After a moment, I turned away. Calm and composed.

“…We should go.” My voice was light.

Almost indifferent, as if that picture…had meant nothing at all.

We continued walking.

“The east wing contains the private lounges and study rooms,” she said. “The library is also there.”

Library.

That caught my attention. Finally, we reached a balcony. Marie opened the doors, stepping aside.

“This is the main gallery.” I stepped forward, the view stretched endlessly in front of me. Gardens, fountains and perfectly trimmed hedges.

The entire Mancini estate unfolded beneath my eyes. From up here…Everything looked calm.

Peaceful and untouchable. I rested my hand lightly on the railing. The cool metal pressed against my skin.

“…It’s beautiful,” I said quietly.

And it was, but beauty didn’t always mean comfort, because now....according to plot....I will be seeing. 

Clara Bennett.

Just as the story had written.

She walked slowly along the garden path, a book resting lightly in her hands. The sunlight followed her steps, catching in her hair, making it glow softly.

Like she belonged to this place, Like the world itself adjusted to her presence, And right on time—

“Clara.”

That voice, low, familiar and warm in a way I had never heard before.

I didn’t need to turn, I already knew.

Salvatore Mancini.

Clara paused mid-step, then slowly turned around. The wind lifted her hair gently, brushing it away from her face.

For a moment...she looked like something out of a painting, soft, untouchable and perfect.

“Oh… Salvo,” she said, her voice light with surprise. “I thought you left for the office.”

Salvatore walked toward her, and for the first time....I saw it clearly.

The difference, the way his expression softened, the way his eyes lost their sharp edge and the way his presence… changed.

“I had something to take care of first,” he said quietly.

He stopped in front of her, then...he held something out.

A small velvet box, clara blinked, clearly confused.

“…What is this?” She hesitated for a moment before taking it from his hand, slowly and carefully, as if afraid of what it might contain.

When she opened it...her entire expression changed, her eyes widened and her breath caught.

“This… this is…” Her voice trembled slightly. “…This looks exactly like—”

She couldn’t finish the sentence, but she didn’t need to.

I already knew.

Marie, standing beside me, gasped softly.

“…This is the same ring...Lena's wedding ring…” Clara gasped.

Yes.

The same ring, the one I was wearing.

My wedding ring.

Salvatore smiled.

And for the first time since I had met him...I saw him truly smile.

Not cold, not mocking and not distant.

But warm and soft.

Almost gentle, like sunlight breaking through clouds.

“Do you like it?” he asked.

Clara looked up at him, shaken.

“Salvo… you can’t do this.” Her fingers tightened slightly around the box. “This is wrong. You can’t give me something that looks exactly like Lena’s wedding ring.”

Her voice was quiet and conflicted, but she didn’t close the box, and she didn’t give it back either.

Below, the scene continued, above...I stood still, watching.

This was it, the moment. The beginning of everything.

In the original story....this was where Lena Carter’s jealousy began.

The moment she realized the truth, the moment her emotions started to crack and the moment she began to fall apart.

I lowered my gaze slowly, my fingers brushed against the ring on my own hand.

Cold.

Heavy.

Identical.

I turned away from the balcony.

“…Let’s go.”

Marie hesitated for a second before following me, and just like that....I walked away from the scene that was meant to destroy me, but this time…

I didn’t feel anything at all.