Chapter 2

On the third day of the trial run, the Fontana family hosted a family dinner.

Madre had a servant tell me to bring the emerald brooch passed down to the Donna of every generation.

That brooch was pinned to my chest by her own hands on my wedding day. Yet I knew she had always looked down on me; she favored a mafia-born princess like Isabella, and even after we were married, she kept trying to set them up.

On the day I first visited the Fontana estate to meet the family elders, Madre had told a room full of people that a girl from an ordinary background was unworthy of the Fontana name.

Luca had held my hand, his tone calm yet unyielding, "Madre, with all respect, no one picks my wife but me."

If Luca hadn't insisted on marrying me back then, this symbol of the Fontana matriarch would have never ended up in my hands.

Recalling that moment now only felt utterly tragic.

I tightened my grip on the jewelry box. Perhaps today would be the perfect opportunity to return this brooch to its rightful owner.

When I arrived at the estate, Isabella was already seated next to Luca. There was no seat reserved for me along the long dining table. The butler had no choice but to drag out a temporary chair and place it at the very end of the table.

Watching Isabella laugh and talk with him, I remembered that at last year's family dinner, when they first let Isabella take my seat, I had turned around and left the room.

Luca had chased after me and pulled me into an embrace, "I promise, the spot next to me always belongs to you."

Yet this year, I did not even have the right to sit beside him.

Maybe I had a sour look on my face, because Madre's sharp eyes swept over me, "Don't be so sensitive, Viola. Isabella is playing the Donna tonight, so the seating should match the game."

Luca smiled and nodded at Madre, then instructed the kitchen to tailor the menu to Isabella's tastes.

I was severely allergic to pine nuts. Yet after all these years of marriage, bits of pine nut still garnished nearly every dish on the Fontana table. In the beginning, Luca would remind the cooks to watch out, but over time, he just told me to avoid it myself.

However, because Isabella disliked olives, olives were strictly forbidden at the Fontana table. There was a hint of olive oil in the salad. Luca immediately ordered the butler to clear it, "Take it away. She can't stand the smell."

I sat there, drinking my wine in bitter sips.

Before taking the family portrait, Madre suddenly ordered me, "Give the brooch to Isabella to wear, so the photo looks right."

Isabella quickly waved her hands in refusal, "Oh, that wouldn't be right." Yet her hand hovered in mid-air, never truly pulling back.

Before I could say a word, Luca reached out and unpinned the brooch himself.

The sharp pin dragged against the fabric. He did not even check on me; he only looked down to make sure the brooch was not scratched.

Then, he personally pinned it onto Isabella's chest, "It's just a brooch, Viola. You'll get it back in a few days anyway."

During the photo shoot, Madre sat in the front row. Behind her, Isabella stood right beside Luca. Meanwhile, I was placed at the very outer edge, practically cut off by the camera lens.

The photographer asked everyone to squeeze in closer. Luca intentionally wrapped an arm around Isabella's waist. After the shoot, his hand still rested on her. He wore a smug look on his face.

I knew he waited for me to speak up and stop him. But I looked away and turned toward Madre, "Madre, let Isabella keep the brooch. It should have belonged to her all along."

Luca's expression darkened, and a faint smirk crossed Madre's lips, "So you finally realize you're not worthy of Luca. If you are that eager to give away what took you years to earn, then fine."

The photo was quickly sent out to be printed, set to hang in the estate's long gallery.

Relatives unaware of the truth smiled and remarked, "Everything is finally in its place."

Someone even asked, "So when are Luca and Isabella having a proper wedding?"

Madre did not bother correcting them. She raised her glass, giving Isabella a knowing nod as a silent approval.

Amid voices praising how perfect Luca and Isabella looked together, I slipped away quietly. Nobody noticed.

It was not until the banquet ended that Luca finally noticed I had not returned. He sent me a text.

[What kind of game are you playing now? I'll give it to you, your acting's getting better. Let's see how long you can keep this up.]

I did not reply.

What he did not know was that I was erasing every trace of myself left within the Fontana family, until I walked out of his life for good.