Chapter 5

My heart, already a landscape of scars, was too numb for new pain.

I suddenly remembered five years ago, when Marcello met my parents. He had placed a hand over his heart and promised them.

"Don't worry. I may have nothing now, but I will protect Phoebe with my life. I will give her a good life."

My parents never looked down on him. They even helped us out financially from time to time, worried we weren't getting by.

They treated Marcello like a son. But in five years, he hadn't shown them a shred of filial piety.

And now, my father's freedom was a bargaining chip for Marcello to force me to submit.

I should have known.

When it came to Camilla, it didn't matter if I was right or wrong, how much I explained, or what the truth was... Marcello never cared.

He would do anything for the woman he loved.

I stared at Camilla and bowed deeply.

"I'm sorry."

"I shouldn't have been jealous of you. I shouldn't have hurt your child. It was all my fault."

"Please, let my father go. I'll take all the blame."

Camilla nodded, pleased. "About time you learned your place! But words aren't enough."

She slapped a document on the table, her eyes glinting. "I want you to sign this confession, promising to never speak of the truth of this matter again. If you do, you'll voluntarily give up your medical license."

Marcello's brow tightened.

My hand was still trembling from the pain.

He opened his mouth as if to say something, but I was already beyond caring. I picked up the pen and signed my name.

Camilla took the signed paper. "Marcello, Phoebe's attitude is very sincere. I forgive her."

"But I've been in a bad mood lately. I don't want to live alone. Marcello, can I move in for a while?"

Marcello didn't hesitate. "Of course."

"Then I want the room closest to yours!"

The room closest to Marcello's was my room, the one he had even decorated himself as a way of making things up to me.

Marcello glanced at me. I remained silent.

Finally, he nodded. "Whatever makes you happy."

Camilla skipped out of the room. I had nothing left to say to Marcello. As I turned to leave, he grabbed my wrist.

"Phoebe, why didn't you say anything? Why didn't you refuse?" His expression was puzzled. "You seem... different."

I pulled my lips into a thin line.

It was true. The old me would have been jealous, would have cared if he was too close to another woman.

But I had learned that it wasn't worth it.

"If I had refused, would you have listened?" I asked, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

Without waiting for his reaction, I turned and walked away.

With Marcello's order, the case against my father was quickly dropped.

Seeing my father, his hair white overnight, his face etched with exhaustion, I was filled with guilt and helplessness.

I used the black card Marcello had given me to buy my parents tickets to Europe, sending them on a vacation to get away from this disgusting mess for a while.

When I returned to the house, it had been transformed.

The living room was now filled with glass ornaments that Camilla liked. On the wall hung a photo of Marcello and Camilla holding the baby, looking like a real family.

I remembered that Marcello and I never took a formal wedding photo.

He had said that when we had a big house, he would hire the most famous photographer to take a wedding portrait of me, to hang high on the wall.

It seemed he had fulfilled that promise for someone else.

My belongings had been moved out of my bedroom and piled in a small room in the corner.

Marcello's voice was a little awkward. "Phoebe, once Camilla feels better and moves out, you can redecorate however you like. Or, we can move to another house, wherever you want..."

I looked away, cutting him off.

"No need."

I was leaving New York soon. I would never live in this house again.