Chapter 1

My hand had just touched the doorknob when my mother, Elisabetta Russo, spoke again from the other side. "She used to cry and throw tantrums all the time when she was little. Luckily, that little joke scared her into behaving."

I fought back the hurt.

What Mother called throwing tantrums had happened when I was only three or four years old.

I'd been a sickly child, constantly running fevers. Some nights, my whole body ached so badly that I couldn't sleep, and I would go crying to Mother.

But after learning that I'd been abandoned and taken in by the family, I never dared to bother her again. No matter how much pain I was in, I would curl up under my blanket and bite down on the corner of my pillow.

I was terrified that if I caused too much trouble, they'd abandon me again.

I opened the door. The living room was packed with my aunt, uncle, and several distant relatives.

Christmas was just a few days away. By this time in previous years, the porch would already be decked out in Christmas lights and wreaths. This year, there were only a few nail holes where the decorations used to hang.

The liquor cabinet was empty, and Mother's crystal ornaments were gone. Even the family portrait had been taken down.

"What are you all talking about?" I stepped inside, keeping my voice quiet and pretending I hadn't heard a thing.

My father, Vittorio Moretti, glanced at me before quickly looking away. "They finished installing the security system at the new estate yesterday. The cars are ready, too."

I froze. "We're moving?"

No one answered.

"When?"

"This weekend," Father said casually.

Bettina Moretti lounged on the couch with a white Pomeranian curled up in her lap. "Papa says the new estate is up in the mountains, where the air is better. He thinks moving there will help with my heart palpitations."

They were moving, and no one had even bothered to tell me.

My aunt, Giulia Moretti, pointed toward a corner of the living room.

"Don't forget to bring Bettina's piano. The new place has floor-to-ceiling windows, so she'll get plenty of morning sunlight."

Mother nodded. "There's a wine cellar in the basement, too. Vittorio's been wanting one for years."

I instinctively reached for the back of my chair, only to find it wasn't there. It had already been moved.

The Pomeranian hopped off Bettina's lap and curled up in the spot where I used to sit.

Only then did Mother glance my way. "Pack your own things. Don't bother the staff. They'll all be busy looking after your sister."

I let out a heavy sigh, my shoulders sagging. "Okay. I understand."

I should have known by now that there was never really a place for me in this family.

I turned toward the stairs, but after a moment's hesitation, I spoke up. "The doctor says I'm terminally ill. I only have five days left to live."

The living room went silent.

Father immediately pushed himself out of his chair. Mother shot to her feet as well, her skirt catching a cup on the coffee table and knocking it sideways. Neither of them bothered to straighten it.

Then Bettina put the Pomeranian down on the couch and tilted her head at me. "But didn't you win the family training competition just a few days ago?"

She sounded genuinely puzzled. "You even hit the bullseye with every shot at the shooting range. How could you be terminally ill?"

Mother's expression immediately hardened. "Alessia, not this again."

Father set his cup down with a dull thud. "I heard you fired one bullet straight through three targets during the competition. And now you're telling us you're dying? Do you take us for fools?"

I gripped the doorframe as the taste of blood rose in my throat again. I'd taken painkillers to get through training. Afterward, I'd hidden in the locker room and thrown up so much blood that it covered the floor.

But there was no point telling them. They wouldn't believe me anyway.

Mother raised her voice. "You just can't stand seeing Bettina happy, can you? We're moving house, and somehow you still have to make a scene. You always have to be the center of attention! How did I end up raising a daughter like you?"

Father pointed toward the stairs. "Go to your room and think about what you've done. You're not getting anything to eat until you admit you were wrong!"

I gripped the bannister and slowly made my way upstairs.

Behind me, I heard Bettina trying to calm Mother down. "Don't be mad, Mamma. Maybe Alessia's just tired."

"She's always pulling these ridiculous stunts for attention!"

For 15 years, I'd pushed myself to master combat and shooting, doing everything I could to protect everyone in this family.

I'd endured gunshot wounds without crying out and trained through fevers without taking a single day off. All because I wanted to prove I deserved to be part of this family.

But after everything I'd done, all it took was one comment from Bettina for them to dismiss the fact that I was dying. I closed my bedroom door and forced down the blood rising in my throat.

Five days. That was all I had left. And this time, I was done trying to prove myself.