MasukValentina POV
The rain was coming down hard. I walked right into it without covering my head. I had my coat and my bag, but that was all. I turned left away from the big house. That was the only direction that mattered, getting away. The man at the gate didn't look at me, and I didn't look at him. He cleared his throat as I passed. I slowed, almost stopped. Then he said, quietly, "Good luck." Just two words. I nodded without turning around. I didn't trust my face. We both acted like nothing was happening. I walked for a long time. The streets were empty because it was very early. I kept my head down and my hands in my pockets. I gripped my jaw tight. I promised myself I would not cry in the street. I didn't want to be that kind of person. I kept that promise for about twenty minutes. Then, it just happened. I stopped walking in front of a bakery that was still closed. My body started shaking so hard that I had to lean against the window to keep from falling. The tears came out fast. I wasn't just crying a little; I was sobbing. It was the sound of someone who had been trying to be strong for too long and finally broke. A man walked by and looked away quickly. A woman with a dog crossed the street to stay away from me. An old man stopped. He was the only one. He held out a small paper bag, a pastry, still warm. "Eat something," he said, in the tone people use with children. I shook my head. He left the bag beside me and walked on. I thought, Look at me. I’m just a woman crying in the street in a fancy dress at six in the morning. Thinking about how silly I looked made me cry even harder. I had been so sure about Marco. That was the part that hurt most. I had spent six months trusting him. I spent three weeks thinking of exactly how to tell him my secret. I wanted the words to be perfect. Stupid, I told myself. You were so stupid. I pressed my forehead against the cold glass of the bakery window. I let myself feel sad for a moment, but I couldn't stay there forever. The rain soaked through my coat. My shoes were full of water. I counted the money in my bag, I had four hundred and twelve euros. I had no phone, no plan, and nowhere to go. I stood up straight and wiped my face. I picked up my bag. I needed to find a warm place to sit down. That was the first step. I saw a clinic nearby with the lights on. I pushed the door open. It was the first door that wasn't locked. A bell rang. The waiting room was empty except for a man sleeping in the corner. It smelled like cleaning spray and old coffee. I was so happy to be out of the rain. A nurse came out from behind the desk. She looked tired, like she had worked all night. She looked at my wet hair and my messy face. "Are you hurt?" she asked. "No," I said. "I just needed somewhere to, " I stopped. I didn't know how to finish that sentence. She looked at me for a long time. "Come and sit down," she said. She led me to a chair. "I'm Giulia." "Valentina." "Okay, Valentina." She sat across from me. "Tell me what you need." As soon as she asked that, I started crying again. I couldn't help it. I covered my face with my hands. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I don't usually do this." "It's a clinic," Giulia said in a calm voice. "People cry here." "I feel so stupid," I said. "I believed everything he said, and I was wrong. Now I’m sitting here in a wet dress and I have nowhere to go. I can't stop shaking." Giulia put her hand on my arm for a second. "Okay," she said. "Let's talk about facts. Are you safe?" I thought about it. "Yes," I said. "No one is going to hurt me. I just have no home." "Do you have money?" "Four hundred and twelve euros." "Do you have family? Can you go to your mother?" "My mother is in Palermo. I can't go there." I didn't want my mom to see me like this, broken and sad with nothing left. "I can't." Giulia nodded. She didn't make me explain. She went to her desk and came back with a cup of hot coffee. Then she put something else down. It was three hundred euros. "I can't take that," I said. "You can give it back when you're able." "Do you do this often?" I asked. She smiled, small and tired. "Not often enough." She sat down again. "I know a family in a place called Castelmare, in Sicily. They help people who need a quiet place to stay. It isn’t a charity, you’ll have to work, but you will have a roof over your head." I looked at the money and then at her. "Why?" I asked. "Because you are young, you are sitting in a wet dress at six in the morning, and you haven't asked me for anything." She looked right at me. "The bus leaves at eight o'clock. You can make it if you leave soon." I held the warm coffee cup. I thought about the money and the long bus ride. I realized I still had a brain that worked. This terrible morning was not going to be the end of my story. "Okay," I said. "Okay," Giulia said. She went to find a pen to write down the address. I sat there and told myself that this moment, the rain, the crying, and the kindness of a stranger, was not who I was. What I did next would show who I really was. I just had to get started.Valentina POVMilan smelled like money.I smelled it the moment I stepped off the bus, Matteo strapped tightly to my chest and a single bag slung over my shoulder. The city glittered all around me, designer boutique shops, expensive luxury cars, and women wearing clothes that cost more than I had ever earned in a whole month. I stood on the pavement outside the station, allowing myself to stare at it all for exactly thirty seconds.Then, I started walking.I found a cheap apartment in a building that should have been torn down. It was just one room with a kitchen sink that leaked and a window that wouldn't close all the way. The landlord was a short man with a large stomach who came to the door in his undershirt. He looked at me, at Matteo on my chest, at my single bag, and at the 4,000 euros I had hidden inside the lining of my coat."How long do you want it for?" he asked."As long as you'll have me," I replied.He charged me double the normal price. I paid it without arguing. I had
Valentina PovFranco Esposito opened the door before I could even knock.He looked at me like I was something he was thinking about buying. He looked me up and down to see if I was worth the price. I was twenty-two years old and six weeks pregnant. Everything I owned was in one bag. I stood up as straight as I could."You're the girl Giulia sent," he said. He didn't ask; he just knew."Valentina," I told him.He stepped back. "You’ll work for your stay here. That’s the deal." I looked at him evenly. "What kind of work?" He waved his hand like the question was too small to answer. "Everything," he said. "Whatever needs doing." I nodded. I had already decided I would ask no more questions that night"I understand," I said. I walked past him into the house.A woman named Marta was waiting in the hallway. She was small and thin, with eyes that noticed everything. She looked at my bag, my stomach, and my face. She looked like she had finished a math problem in her head and got the answer s
Marco POV "You did the right thing," Carmela said, setting the cup on my desk. "That girl was trouble the moment she walked in."I didn't answer. I couldn't. My mind was stuck in a loop, replaying the last few hours.I hadn't slept a wink last night. I had spent hours pacing the dark hallways of this house, searching for her. When she hadn't come up to our room after the dinner, I thought she was just clearing her head in the garden. Then the clock struck 2:00 AM. Then 3:00 AM. I checked the library, the terrace, the guest rooms, growing more anxious with every passing hour, wondering where she could possibly be hiding.I never in a million years would have looked in the staff quarters. I never would have believed she was down there.Then, just before dawn, Luca had burst into my study, pale and out of breath. “Marco, I found her. You need to come right now.”The memory of rushing down that corridor tore through me. Luca had kicked the door open, and the sight inside burned itself in
Valentina POVThe rain was coming down hard. I walked right into it without covering my head.I had my coat and my bag, but that was all. I turned left away from the big house. That was the only direction that mattered, getting away. The man at the gate didn't look at me, and I didn't look at him. He cleared his throat as I passed. I slowed, almost stopped. Then he said, quietly, "Good luck." Just two words. I nodded without turning around. I didn't trust my face. We both acted like nothing was happening.I walked for a long time. The streets were empty because it was very early. I kept my head down and my hands in my pockets. I gripped my jaw tight. I promised myself I would not cry in the street. I didn't want to be that kind of person.I kept that promise for about twenty minutes.Then, it just happened. I stopped walking in front of a bakery that was still closed. My body started shaking so hard that I had to lean against the window to keep from falling. The tears came out fast. I
Valentina POVI woke up cold.That was the first thing. The cold, and then the ceiling—wrong color, wrong height—and then the smell of a room that wasn't mine. My body understood before my mind did. I was already sitting up, pulling the bedsheet tight to my chest, and counting everything that was wrong.My dress was on the floor. My shoes were right beside it. I was in my slip and nothing else, and there was a man asleep beside me. He was turned away, breathing slowly and evenly, as if none of this was unusual.I knew his face. It was Enzo, the family driver. I had spoken to him maybe four times, always by accident, always briefly.I got out of the bed without making a sound. I put my clothes back on with my back turned to him, keeping my hands steady. I told myself to think. I told myself to breathe. There had to be an explanation. There had to be one because I remembered dinner, I remembered the drink going wrong, and I remembered absolutely nothing after that. That was the answer—s
Valentina POV "You're going to laugh at my uncle tonight," Marco said.I didn't look up from the mirror. "I never laugh at your uncle.""You always laugh at him," Marco said, adjusting his sleeves in the reflection behind me. "He tells the same story about the horse every single time, and you laugh like you've never heard it before.""That is because he tells it differently every time," I said, turning to check the side of my dress. "Last month, the horse bit a church official. Tonight, it will probably be the Pope himself."He caught my eye in the mirror. There it was—that specific look. It was the look he thought I didn't notice, like he was still surprised by how close we had become, but had quietly decided he was happy about it."You look beautiful," he said."I know," I said, smoothing the front of my dress and turning away from the glass. "Just don't let your uncle corner me before dinner. I need to mentally prepare myself before we get to the horse story.""I have no control o







