Chapter 2

I pushed open the door and walked back into my room.

The attic was barely fifty-five square feet, with no windows and stale, stagnant air.

The ceiling was under five feet high. I couldn't even stand up straight.

This was the only space I had in this mansion that sprawled like a castle.

The day Vera first arrived, she saw my bedroom with the balcony and broke down crying on the spot. "I had to sleep on the floor at the orphanage, and the big room that was supposed to be mine has some stranger living in it."

Carmela spent an entire day consoling her, then told me to give the room to Vera and make do with the little attic for a few days.

Once Vera accepted me, she'd arrange a better room.

I believed her. But those few days stretched into four years.

I went downstairs to get water. Passing Vera's bedroom, I noticed the door was ajar, and her voice drifted out as she talked on the phone.

"Mother was kind enough to bring her tiramisu, and she still gave her attitude. Talk about ungrateful."

"She's just an adopted stray. Not only did she take eighteen years of my life, she has the nerve to stick around even after I'm back. Just wait. Next year I'll make sure she doesn't get the crest again, doesn't pass the trial, and gets sent straight to the shooting range as a live target."

I tightened my grip on the water glass and went back up to the attic.

The truth was, when Vera first came back, I'd offered to leave on my own.

Back then, Carmela held me and cried. She said after losing Vera and then her husband to a revenge killing, she'd almost given up. Finding me was the only thing that kept her going.

"Whether you're my flesh and blood or not, I raised you for eighteen years. You're my daughter.

"Vera just can't accept you yet. Once you two spend more time together, you'll be like real sisters."

So I stayed.

But every time Carmela showed me even the slightest kindness, Vera would fly into a rage and threaten to kill herself.

At first, Carmela only pretended to be cold to me when Vera was watching. But over time, the act became real, and she genuinely stopped caring.

I sat on the edge of the bed, took out my phone, and sent a reply. [Give me a few more days. After my birthday, once I've said a proper goodbye to this family, I'll come back.]

After I sent it, the anxiety I'd carried for four years suddenly settled.

A few days ago, my birth family had found me.

The regal, dignified woman had stood before me in tears, saying she was my biological mother. She told me I'd been stolen by a rival family as a baby, and she'd believed I was dead all these years.

Twenty-two years later, she'd discovered by chance that the Gallo family had taken me in.

I was relieved I hadn't been abandoned, yet I couldn't turn my back on the woman who had raised me for more than twenty years.

So at the time, I'd only asked for time to think.

But now, it all suddenly became clear.

The truth was, from the day her real daughter was brought back, there was no longer a place for me in this family. I just hadn't been willing to admit it.

Now it was time to go.