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Chapter 10
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I'm an Outsider in My Own Home Chapter 10
In that shabby old apartment building, I built a life more fulfilling than anything I'd ever known.The hallway leading to my basement entrance was now strung with the stained-glass lamps I'd made with my own hands. At night, each one of them glowed with warm, colorful light.I fixed up an old bench my neighbor had thrown out, painted it a vintage deep blue, and placed it beneath Isabella's windowsill.She grumbled about all the racket I was making. But the very next day, she brought out a cushion and sat on that bench, reading her newspaper in the sun.Later on, I also posted about this chapter of my life on the blog.I wrote about the apple pie that warmed me to the core, about the hallway light left on for me late at night, and about the eccentric old woman who always left me late-night snacks whenever I worked overtime.That post shattered every viewership record on the internet.The comment with the most likes read, "Turns out, family isn't defined by blood. Instead, it's s
I'm an Outsider in My Own Home Chapter 9
Later, Papa deployed the family's PR team to release an official statement online.The gist was that our family had always enjoyed a harmonious relationship, and that my blog was nothing more than a fictional persona crafted for literary purposes.But he was quickly proven wrong by the internet, because in a mansion that big, there wasn't a single family portrait with me in it.At the same time, my old classmates from school began to step forward and call the statement into question.The comment section under Fabio's Instagram post was completely overrun."Fabio, is Valentina really your sister? Then, why did you refuse to give her a crest pin that could prove her connection to you back then?"Luca was hit even harder. One of his former teammates replied directly to a post, "So that girl who brought you the umbrella in the pouring rain wasn't actually some poor relative of your bodyguard? You told us she was a maid and left her in the rain until she came down with a raging fever.
I'm an Outsider in My Own Home Chapter 8
I looked Fabio straight in the eye."Every time you worked late at the office until 3:00 am, I was the one who stayed up to bring you coffee. Once, while you were on a transnational video conference, someone on the other end happened to ask about the girl bringing you coffee in the frame."And you answered in fluent Briton, 'Oh, her? She's just the new cleaning lady the family hired. I gotta tell you though, she's clumsy as hell.' Did you really think I couldn't understand a single word?"Fabio's face went rigid in an instant.I turned to Luca. He instinctively took half a step back, his gaze darting away."When you were 15 years old and had just joined the national team, a heavy rainstorm hit during training. I ran several blocks to bring you an umbrella. You thought I looked too shabby and embarrassing."So, you snatched the umbrella from my hands and told your teammates I was some poor relative of the bodyguard. I ran back home in the pouring rain and came down with a raging f
I'm an Outsider in My Own Home Chapter 7
It all started when someone online put a screenshot from my interview side by side with a photo of Francesca and posted it with the caption, "Has no one noticed how much these two look alike?"One was a misfit dissecting the wounds of family trauma, and the other was the internet's darling who could do no wrong.The comment section erupted instantly.It didn't take long for someone to dig up a video secretly taken at the club party months ago.In the footage, Francesca held a glass of champagne and said dismissively, "Oh, she doesn't count as family."Although Papa had said at the party not to read too much into things, the video still found its way online.When it first surfaced, my family had thrown a fortune into suppressing it. They brushed it off with a statement calling it "a joke between Francesca and me", all to protect her image.Now, that flimsy cover-up of a statement and the video itself were being unearthed again, matching up with the details in my blog with eerie p
I'm an Outsider in My Own Home Chapter 6
A month later, I found a job at a small local ad agency.The base pay was meager, and after I did the math, I found that it barely covered the rent for the basement.My boss, Stefano Pavan, talked a big game about flexible working hours. But in reality, he treated me like cheap labor around the clock. If an email came in at 3:00 am, I had to drag myself out of bed and get to work.Still, I kept posting on my blog. In fits and starts, I wrote about the quiet bitterness of those on the margins of society and the moments they were made to feel invisible.One day, I typed out, "In that lavish estate, all the applause and spotlight belonged to them. I was nothing more than a superfluous ornament—fit only to stand in the shadows and watch in silence."That post went viral without any warning.Within moments, tens of thousands of comments flooded in. Countless people wrote that my words mirrored their own feelings of being abandoned by their family.As I read those comments, I suddenly
I'm an Outsider in My Own Home Chapter 5
My first night away from home was spent on the thin, stiff mattress of a school dorm bed.As I listened to the occasional police sirens passing by outside the window, I actually felt an unprecedented sense of peace.I no longer had to endure being summoned and scolded at any moment, wait on those prized pets, or win over people who never once looked at me with warmth.It was the first time in 20 years I felt like I could really breathe.A few days later, Fabio's name lit up on my phone screen.When I answered, he still spoke in his usual commanding tone. "Take my suit to the dry cleaners.""I haven't been home for a long time now," I said, my voice surprisingly calm."You're not in your room?" The sound of keyboard tapping on the other end paused for a moment."Find someone else to do your chores from now on."With that, I hung up without hesitation.After that, he never called again—just as I figured.Half a month later, Francesca called too. Her first words weren't to ask
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