Chapter 2

I was woken early the next morning by the noise of commotion.

The servants were hauling boxes out of my studio—one after another.

It was the brightest room in the manor, and the only sanctuary I had when things got too heavy.

"What are you doing?" I called out, stopping them.

Lorenzo walked over from the other end of the hallway and waved for the servants to keep going.

"Lily, Vella's performing a dance at the gala. She needs a spacious place to practice. Your studio's the perfect size—so I had it cleared out."

On the floor lay scattered brushes and crumpled sketches, carelessly folded.

I pressed a hand to my chest, where the anger was building tight, and said coldly:

"That's my studio, Lorenzo. You didn't think to ask me first?"

Lorenzo smoothed his cuffs, unconcerned.

"Lily, you haven't painted in ages—not since we got married. It's a waste of space sitting empty. Vella's performance matters to the family's image, and as Donna, you should be gracious."

I looked at his self-righteous face and felt something hollow settle in my chest.

Three years ago, when I first moved in, this wasn't a studio.

Lorenzo had personally hired an architect to knock down an entire wall and install floor-to-ceiling windows—just to give me the perfect light.

The day it was finished, he laid out my brushes and paints one by one, his voice soft:

"Lily, I know you love painting. I know you regret giving up that spot at the academy. I want you to know—even when you become Donna, I still want you to hold onto what you love. Leave the family matters to me. I just want you to be happy."

Back then, I truly believed I'd found the right man.

But after the wedding, the Lorenzo empire came under pressure from rival families. He was constantly overwhelmed.

I was the one who felt for him. I set down my brushes, picked up the ledgers, managed the banquets and social engagements flawlessly. Turned myself into the composed, steady, always-thinking-of-the-bigger-picture Donna.

And over time, he started taking it for granted.

Every time I wanted to step into my studio, he'd look mildly displeased, nudging me toward unfinished family business.

And now he was blaming me for wasting the room.

"Fine. Do what you want."

I didn't argue the way I used to. I just said it flatly.

Then I turned and walked out.

That afternoon, Lorenzo took me to try on my gala gown.

As Donna, my dress had been in the making for six months—the hem embroidered with irises, the symbol of the family's matriarch.

I'd just put it on when Vella walked in, Lorenzo at her side.

Her eyes lit up at the sight of me in the gown—then she twisted her face into a pitiful look and turned to Lorenzo.

"Lorenzo, my dress has a hole in it—I can't wear it now. If I show up without a proper gown, the other families' daughters will laugh at me."

Lorenzo frowned, scanned the boutique, and his gaze landed on me.

"Lily. Take yours off and give it to Vella."

The boutique owner gasped and stepped forward.

"Mr. Falcone, this gown was custom-made to Mrs. Falcone's measurements—and it carries the Donna's emblem. How could Miss Ricci wear this?"

Lorenzo cut her off without a second thought.

"Vella is family too. I can't bear to see her embarrassed at the gala."

He turned to me, his voice cool.

"Lily, there are plenty of other dresses in the store. Pick whichever one you like."

"Everyone in the other families already knows who you are. You don't need a dress to prove it."

I looked at myself in the mirror.

The iris embroidery. The symbol of everything I'd given to this family for three years.

And to him, it was just something to take off and hand over to make his sister happy.

I turned without a word, walked into the fitting room, changed out of the gown, and handed it to Vella.

She put it on excitedly—the hem was a little long.

Lorenzo crouched down without hesitation and adjusted the hem for her with his own hands.

The owner laughed awkwardly. "The Don is so considerate."

I stood there watching his back as he knelt at Vella's feet, and felt my stomach churn.

At our wedding three years ago, my train got caught on the carpet.

Lorenzo did the same thing—in front of the whole city's elite, dropped to his knees without a second thought, and carefully worked my train free from the carpet fibers.

People teased him then, saying how unusual it was for a proud Don to be so attentive.

He just smiled, took my hand, and declared to everyone:

"In this lifetime, I'll only ever bow my head for Lily. Because she is my only choice."

I held onto that image for three full years.

And now, without a flicker of hesitation, he was kneeling at another girl's feet. Doing the exact same thing.

As if I were the one standing on the outside.

Watching them laugh and chat, I felt nothing stir in me anymore.

I just pulled out my phone and typed a single line, calm and steady:

"Professor, the tickets are booked. Three days from now—the night of the family meeting—I leave on time."