Chapter 3

Before sunrise, my bedroom door was kicked open.

My father stormed in and slapped me so hard my head snapped to the side. "Valentina, your sister tried to help you, and you kicked her. Do you have any idea she's pregnant?"

My cheek throbbed, but the real pain was deeper.

I looked up at him and said hoarsely, "She poured something on me and set me on fire."

His face changed, then darkened further. "You still dare to lie."

He grabbed my injured arm and squeezed hard enough to make white pain explode through me. "Elena is already miserable enough, and now you're slandering her child too. You've always been selfish, but this is disgusting."

I nearly buckled.

Nicolo stood by the door, his gaze fixed on the bandages around my arm. Something flickered in his eyes, but he still said nothing in my defense. He only spoke at last to say, "Come to the hospital and apologize."

A laugh broke out of me before I could stop it.

Even now, he wanted me to apologize.

"What if I don't?"

My father kicked me in the leg. "Then you'll kneel and do it."

The room tilted. I fell hard to the floor. The last thing I heard before everything went dark was Nicolo shouting my name. There was panic in his voice at last, but it had come too late to matter.

When I woke up, daylight filled the room.

My burns had been rebandaged. Nicolo sat beside the bed, gripping my hand so tightly his knuckles were pale. The harsh line of his brow had deepened. When he saw my eyes open, he leaned toward me. "Does it still hurt?"

I pulled my hand free one finger at a time.

His throat moved. It looked as if he wanted to explain himself, but all he finally said was, "My father... your father was too angry last night. I'll go with you to the hospital later. If you soften your attitude, this can still blow over."

I stared at him and, for the first time, felt nothing but clarity.

Truth did not matter to him.

Neither did my pain.

As long as Elena needed soothing, I would always be the one ordered to step back.

I closed my eyes. "I'm tired."

He seemed to think I was sulking. He tucked the blanket around me and left.

At nine o'clock sharp, I got out of bed, took the things I had packed in advance, and left behind the signed waiver.

Before I walked out, I sent two videos.

One went to Nicolo. In it, Elena admitted she had lied about being the one who saved him years ago and confessed that much of her illness had been an act designed to win pity.

The other went to my father. It was the security footage from my room.

Everything was there.

Elena confessing that she had removed my mother's oxygen tube. Elena pouring liquid over my arm and setting it alight. Elena throwing herself to the floor and framing me.

Then I picked up my son, got into the car, and never looked back.

The wind at the airport was brutal. Before boarding the institute's private plane, I looked one last time at the city where I had wasted so many years of my life.

Then I threw my phone into the fountain by the terminal.

From now on, no one would ever find me again.