My Stepsister, My Revenge

Naples, Italy.

Evening.

Inside one of the city’s private hospitals. The smell of disinfectant and the sounds of medical machines filled the room.

Two young men sat there—one thirty-three, the other thirty. Despite their apparent strength, in that moment, they were as fragile as children.

"The doctor said your condition will improve. We’re with you, Mom," Lorenzo said softly, trying to steady his voice as he stepped closer to her. He didn’t hold her gaze for long, as if afraid his eyes would betray him.

"Of course. Everything will be fine," Marcello added, gently patting her hand. He then exchanged a brief look with Lorenzo—one that revealed everything words could not.

Isabella lay on the bed, her face pale, her breathing weak, yet her eyes still carried an indescribable love."Marcello… Lorenzo… take care of each other, my loves," she whispered in a faint, exhausted voice.

"Mom, you’ll be okay. We’re here. We won’t leave you," Lorenzo reassured her, tenderly stroking her hair.

She gave a faint smile, as if she knew the truth they were trying to escape. "I — I feel like it’s time for me to say goodbye, my sons."

"No," Marcello pleaded, his voice choked. "Don’t say that, please." He dropped to his knees beside her, gripping her hand tightly, as if trying to keep her with him. "I can’t live without you. You’ll be fine, believe me."

She looked at him with deep tenderness, "Life doesn’t stop for anyone, my son. It continues despite everything we go through and everything we will face."

His gaze trembled, her words striking something deep within his soul.

"Don’t be sad for me. I will rest. I’ll finally be free of this pain." she continued.

Lorenzo shut his eyes hard, unable to stop his tears."We want you with us, that’s all we want," he said hoarsely.

She reached out to him with difficulty, touching his face. "And I want you both, but life doesn’t always go the way we wish."Then she turned to Marcello, placing her hand over his. "Forget the past, my son. Don’t let it destroy your present and your future."

"Sorrow and resentment can consume a person’s body and soul, no matter how strong they are. There’s a bright life waiting for you, my dear. Get married, build a family, and one day, let the laughter of your children fill your life."

He broke down, bending to kiss her hand. "I don’t want anyone but you, Mom. You’ll stay with us. You’re all I want."

She looked at Lorenzo, a tear slipping down her cheek."Take care of your brother. He needs you."

"I promise." Lorenzo nodded, crying.

"I love you both so much, my sons," she murmured at last.

And then—a sharp, piercing tone rang out from the machine beside her. Everything froze in that moment.

"No…" escaped Marcello’s lips in a ragged whisper.

"Mom!" Lorenzo cried out, shaking her desperately. "Wake up! Please, wake up!"

But Marcello held onto her hand, kissing it in anguish. "Mom, please, don’t leave us. We have no one but you. Don’t leave us like our father did."

-----

The day of the funeral arrived. Thick clouds covered the sky completely, while the rain fell heavily over them.

Marcello stood before the grave, his body rigid, his features frighteningly still, hardened by grief.

Beside him stood Lorenzo, his eyes red, yet no tears fell. He was lost in shock, unable to fully believe what had happened.

One by one, people left, until only the two of them remained.

Marcello slowly bent down, his hand trembling as he held a bouquet of red roses—the flowers his mother had always loved. His fingers brushed carefully over the soft petals, as if he were touching a piece of her. The scent pulled him back to memories he had never forgotten.

He clenched his teeth, struggling to hold himself together as his breath hitched. He lifted the bouquet to his lips and pressed a lingering kiss against it—like a farewell that could never truly be complete. Then he placed it on the grave.

Slowly, he turned to Lorenzo. His face was calm, but his eyes burned. "That bastard. He’s the reason she died," Marcelo said, his voice low and tight.

"Who do you mean?" Lorenzo asked, confusion lacing his tone.

"What do you mean, who?" Marcello snapped, fury erupting as he stared at him. "Don’t act like you don’t know! You know damn well that bastard is the reason she died—because of his betrayal! He divorced her and married that other woman, and ever since then, our mother’s fragile heart gave in. She couldn’t bear what happened to us!"

"It’s been more than twenty years, Marcello," Lorenzo replied. "And our father is gone now. He died three years ago. Pray for him."

"Pray for him?" Marcello spat, disgust flashing across his face. "What mercy are you talking about? That bastard deserves hell! You want me to pray for him after he threw us out like we were nothing? After he let that damned woman take our place in our own home?" His voice rose, shaking with rage.

"Have you forgotten we spent a whole month on the streets? Sleeping on sidewalks? He didn’t even wait for the divorce ruling! Do you remember how we couldn’t even find a piece of bread to eat? Until Mom finally found a job and managed to rent us a place!" He continued.

"It’s over, Marcello," Lorenzo said with a heavy sigh, pain evident in his voice. "It’s all in the past now."

"No," Marcello blurted out, his eyes dark with vengeance. "Nothing is over. In fact, it’s just beginning."

"What do you mean by 'just beginning'?" Lorenzo asked, his brows furrowing.

"I mean I won’t rest until I avenge my mother’s death," Marcelo said coldly.

"Avenge it from who? Our father is dead."

"Then I’ll take it out on that woman… and her children."

"And what did she do?" Lorenzo countered. "Our father is the one who was at fault, not her."

"She was just a waitress," Marcello said bitterly. "She deceived him—manipulated him into divorcing Mom and leaving her with nothing. He put everything in her name, and mom didn’t get a single thing." His jaw tightened.

"And that wasn’t enough for her. She convinced him to abandon us completely—to never even ask about us until the day he died. She’s cunning. Vile. I remember her well—the day she came to the house Mom rented for us."

His voice dropped with rage. "She threw words like bullets at her. Humiliated her. Broke her."

Lorenzo exhaled slowly. "What are you planning to do?"

"I’m going to strip her of everything that was ever my mother’s right,” Marcello said, his tone sharp and unwavering. "I’ll make her fall apart and regret everything she’s ever done."

"And how exactly are you going to do that?" Lorenzo asked.

Marcelo’s gaze darkened with determination. "I need to find a way to get close to them… close enough to destroy them."