5

Roman was walking toward them—and somehow, Vera would be the one blamed as always.

“Luciano,” Roman said, his voice cold as he stopped beside them. His jaw tightened, and his eyes flicked to Vera for the briefest moment. “I was just keeping your wife company,” Luciano said smoothly, fixing his cuff. “Didn’t think you’d mind. She’s a little… tense tonight.”

Roman didn’t respond. His attention had already shifted back to Lillith. The change in him was clear. The cold man became something else—softer, warmer. Dangerous in a different way.

“Sorry, I kept you waiting,” he said to her.

“You’re here now,” Lillith smiled, sliding her fingers up his chest. “That’s all I care about.” Vera looked away, her chest tight. The heat of Luciano’s cruel words still clung to her skin, but this cut deeper.

Lillith turned to her with a tilt of her head, lips curling.

“You look like you’ve been crying,” she said, mock concern in her voice. “You always were so… delicate.” Vera froze. 

“What happened to your face?” She continued.

“I might’ve scared her,” Luciano said with a smirk. “You know how easily she breaks.”

“She’s always been too fragile for this family,” Roman’s stepmother added lightly. “Sweet girl, but sweetness doesn’t make a strong wife.”

Roman didn’t disagree. He looked at Vera like she were nothing.

“You should be used to pressure by now,” Luciano said coldly. “Or are you still waiting for someone to do the hard part for you?”

The words sank into her chest like ice. Vera stayed silent. Saying anything would only make it worse.

“She does try,” Lillith said, pretending to be kind. “She deserves some credit for keeping up the act.”

Luciano laughed. “She plays the wife like it’s a school play. All costume, no heart.” Roman didn’t even look at her when he spoke.

“She’s not pretending. She just doesn’t belong. Never did.”

Something inside her gave way. She didn’t cry. Didn’t move. Just felt the cold spread through her bones.

“I’m bored,” Lillith said, turning to Roman. “Let’s go.”

Without hesitation, Roman offered his arm. As they turned away, Lillith looked back, voice soft and sharp. “Next time, wear something brighter, Vera,” she said, still smiling. “You’re starting to disappear into the walls.”

Then they were gone. And Vera was left standing alone, holding the weight of every word like it might break her.

The woman Roman treated like she was made of glass. The only one who could bring a smile to his face. Vera watched as he leaned in and kissed the woman’s cheek, his eyes soft, his body language gentle. A warmth she had never once received from him.

Luciano leaned in closer, his breath reeking of wine and malice. “Why are you still hoping for Roman?” he sneered. “He’ll never accept you.”

Each word pierced deeper than the last. “He’s fucking her day and night. And you…” he laughed cruelly, “…You’re nothing to him. Come to our side. I’ll make you my queen.”

Vera’s eyes shut tight as if that could erase his voice. His nails bit harder into her arm. She just wanted it to end.

But then, applause erupted across the room, and the tone shifted in an instant. All eyes turned as an old man in a wheelchair was ushered in—the air thickened with respect. His presence radiated control, and dominance. Power. “This old man,” Luciano muttered under his breath and released her arm, brushing past her like she didn’t exist.

Roman’s grandfather had arrived.

Everyone gathered to greet him. Even Roman stepped forward, his tone composed, his gestures measured as he wished his grandfather a happy seventy-fifth birthday.

Then the old man’s sharp eyes scanned the room… and landed on her.

Vera.

She hesitated for a moment, then walked toward him—her steps quiet, uncertain. Her body carried pain and exhaustion, but she straightened her shoulders as best she could.

“Vera,” the old man said, his voice lined with age but steady. He reached out and took her hand.

“Happy birthday, Grandpa,” she said softly.

He gave her a small nod. “How are you?”

“How are you?” the old man asked, his voice firm but not unkind.

Vera swallowed the lump in her throat. “I… I’m fine,” she replied softly.

She lied. And she did it so well.

"Is he treating you well?" His eyes, sharp despite his age, lingered on her face before he spoke again. “When… when will I see my great-grandchild’s face?”

The same question. Again.

She lowered her eyes, unable to meet his gaze. How could she tell him the truth? That she didn’t want a child—not like this. That she didn’t trust Roman. The thought of bringing a life into this world, into this family, felt like another kind of prison.

“Vera,” he said, his voice dropping to something gentler, more personal. “I chose you because I believed you were the right one for Roman. You deserve to be the queen of the Benedetti family. The rightful wife of my grandson. Claim your place. You are one of us.”

His words should’ve meant something. But they didn’t. They felt hollow.

He knew.

He knew about Roman’s mistress—Lillith. The woman Roman adored. The woman who owned his heart. Not Vera, not the quiet, plain girl forced into this life. Vera knew what they all believed. That she had married Roman for power and wealth. That she had schemed her way into the Benedetti legacy. She turned to the old man beside her, “Grandpa… I… why did you choose me? What did you say to my father that day?”

She had wanted to ask that question. She had buried it under fear, shame, and silence. But now, it escaped her lips without warning. Before he could answer, a gunshot cracked through the air.

The sound split the room, sharp and deadly. In the next second, the man standing beside her dropped to the floor. Blood gushed from a wound in his head, soaking the carpet. Her eyes widened in horror.

Screams erupted. Chaos followed. The grand chandelier above trembled from the shock. Curtains caught fire—flames spreading fast, wild and furious. Guards rushed forward, immediately escorting the grandfather to safety. Panic surged all around her.

Her instinct pulled her gaze toward Roman.

Roman—the man who was supposed to protect her, but he wasn’t looking at her. He was holding Lillith.

Shielding her, protecting her with his entire body, arms wrapped tightly around the woman he truly loved.

Vera froze. For a second, the world around her dissolved into silence, the flames crackling in slow motion. And then—another gunshot.

The blast echoed in her chest.

She stepped into the middle of the room, shoulders straight, head high.

Maybe one of the bullets had her name on it.

Maybe tonight, mercy would come. She closed her eyes. Maybe death would feel kinder than living in this hell.

But then—she was pulled.

A strong hand yanked her back just as another bullet whizzed past, narrowly missing her head. Her body slammed into someone’s chest, and a firm arm wrapped around her waist.