The Daughter They Wish Was Never Born

Before I turned eighteen, I was the adored principessa of the Moretti family.

That all changed on my eighteenth birthday, when my father brought home an orphan girl named Carina.

"She needs a home," my father said. "You will look after her, like a sister."

From that moment on, nothing was the same.

My brother, who once doted on me, became cold and distant.

And my fiancé... his love for me seemed to halve overnight.

The family praised Carina for being gentle and obedient, calling her a far better daughter than me, their own flesh and blood.

After being cast aside for Carina one too many times, I finally broke and grabbed my father's sleeve. "Does blood mean nothing at all?"

My father's fury ignited. He sheltered a tear-stricken Carina behind him, and in front of every member of the family, he struck me across the face.

"You selfish waste. I wish I'd never had you."

"You bring shame to this family," my brother Marco's voice was as cold as a blade. "Get out."

And my fiancé, Vincent, looked at me with disappointment,"If only it had been Carina I was engaged to from the start."

They thought I would grovel at their feet, like I always did.

But I said nothing, just walked to the family safe, removed the official documents, and drew a single line through my name.

I took the engagement ring from my finger and placed it on the table.

I gave Carina everything they felt I didn't deserve.

After all, I only had a few days left to live.

But they had no idea then that amid the ruins of the Moretti family, they would one day kneel in the rain and plead for my return.

...

"Miss Moretti, your condition is critical. We strongly advise you to inform your family and be admitted for immediate treatment."

"Frankly, you might not make it through the night."

I sat on the leather chair in the clinic, my fingers clutching the diagnostic report. The medical terms swam before my eyes, but their specific meanings no longer mattered.

Twenty-four hours. That was all the time I had left.

I said nothing, just managed a weak smile.

Outside the clinic, the New York night air was bone-chilling.

I ducked into my car and, with trembling hands, dialed a number I hadn't called in eight years.

"Mom?"

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end, followed by ten seconds of silence.

"Alessia?" Sofia's voice shook. "Oh my God... is it you? Is it really you?"

"It's me, Mom."

"Eight years..." Her voice was thick with tears. "How could you... Why... I thought I'd never hear from you again."

"I..." I didn't know what to say. I hadn't spoken to her since she left eight years ago, back when I chose my father over her.

I remembered Marco, wrapping his arms around me, his body shaking with sobs, begging me not to leave him.

My father stood there with red-rimmed eyes, looking at me as if his world would end if I walked away.

They made me feel like they couldn't live without me.

But now, I missed my mom. I just needed to talk to her.

I guess that's what dying does to you.

"Are you all right? You don't sound... right." Sofia immediately sensed something was wrong.

Hearing her voice, I almost broke down. "I just... I needed to hear your voice."

"Sweetheart, tell me what's wrong."

"You sound... so weak, like you're sick."

I bit my lip. I couldn't tell her. If she knew I was dying, she would drop everything and rush back here. That would only bring trouble to her and her new husband.

"I'm fine. I just missed you."

I couldn't bring myself to burden her with the ugliness that had become my life. Just hearing her voice was enough for me.

Soon, I wouldn't be able to hear it at all.

After hanging up, I drove back to the Moretti Estate.

Twenty-four hours. It was enough time to settle a few things.

Bright light spilled from the windows of the place they called "home," a place that had become increasingly alien to me.

The butler met me at the door. "Miss Alessia. Don Moretti is in the study. Mr. Marco and Miss Carina are at the shooting range."

"The range?" I frowned. Marco was usually handling business at this hour.

"Yes. He's teaching Miss Carina to shoot."

He'd never taught me.

I remembered asking him when I was eighteen if I could learn to shoot.

He'd waved a dismissive hand and said, "Leave that to the men. It's not for a principessa." I'd been obedient and never asked again.

Now, though, I was curious to see how he was teaching Carina.

As I approached the range, I could hear the pop of gunfire and Carina's clear, bright laughter.

I pushed the door open to see my brother standing behind Carina, guiding her hands on the pistol.

"Good, just like that," Marco's voice was uncharacteristically gentle. "Relax your shoulders, aim, and fire."

Bang!

Carina hit the bullseye and spun around to hug him. "I did it!"

"You're a natural," Marco smiled indulgently.

I stood in the doorway, feeling like an intruder. I cleared my throat, and only then did they notice me.

"Alessia." Marco's tone was not welcoming. "What are you doing here?"

"I need to talk to you. About the arms shipment."

A week ago, I'd overheard Marco yelling on the phone.

The family's arms supplier had backed out at the last minute, and he was scrambling to find a new source.

Using my own connections, I had spent the last seven days setting it all up. The weapons, the route, a better price, even the transport.

Before I was gone, I wanted to fix one last thing for the family.

But Marco's face darkened. "Didn't I tell you to stay out of this?"

"But I've already contacted a supplier in Germany. The price is three hundred thousand less than what you were quoted..."

"Enough!" Marco roared. "What do you know about it? This is not your place to interfere!"

Carina, ever the peacemaker, put a gentle hand on Marco's arm. "Marco, don't be so harsh. Alessia was only trying to help."

Then she turned to me, her eyes full of pity. "Alessia, you look exhausted. You should get some rest. Let Marco handle the family business."

"I'm fine," I said, fighting a sudden wave of severe dizziness. "Marco, I just want to do something for the family."

"Do what?" Marco's voice was laced with impatience. "What are you good for besides making trouble?"

"Oh, brother," Carina chimed in, her smile radiant, "didn't Father always say the family crypt was in disrepair and needed tending to? But since it involves family secrets, he's never trusted an outsider with the job. If sister is looking for something to do..."

"Since you have so much free time, go clean the family crypt." Marco said, clearly pleased with the suggestion. He added, "It's a place of honor. A chance to commune with our ancestors."