All Chapters of The Donna Who Walked Away: Chapter 1 - Chapter 8

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

The morning of the gala, I woke up to a knife-sharp pain.Weeks of stress and a whole day without food—my stomach was tearing itself apart.I was drenched in cold sweat. I dialed the family doctor.It rang and rang. No one picked up.I threw on a robe and dragged myself out of the room.The sun hadn't even risen, and the estate was already buzzing.Lorenzo stood at the top of the stairs, directing servants as they hauled Vella's things downstairs."Lorenzo—where's the doctor?" I leaned against the railing, my voice thin. "My stomach's killing me. I need a shot."He turned, brow furrowed."Lily, Vella was too nervous to sleep last night. The doctor's giving her a therapy session right now—he can't leave.""She's my private doctor. What gives you the right—"I tried to summon some fire, but it came out weak."Lily, there's a clinic a mile down the road. If you really can't stand it, I'll have the butler drive you. Vella's performance came together at the last minute and I'm busy booking

The Paris morning air carried the scent of coffee.In Professor Carter's studio, I set up my easel for the first time in what felt like forever.No ledgers. No suffocating rules. My hand moved like it had broken free from chains—I'd never felt anything like this before. Pure freedom.Colors collided on the canvas, and all the life I'd suppressed for years erupted like a volcano.This was where I'd always belonged.In six months, with Professor Carter's guidance, my work had taken the European art world by storm. Galleries were clamoring for pieces by the mysterious rising star, Lily—her paintings now priceless.Until one afternoon, the studio doorbell rang.A man in a deep gray trench coat walked in, holding the hand of a boy about seven or eight.He bowed politely to Professor Carter, his voice warm:"Professor Carter, forgive the intrusion. My nephew has been begging for days to see The Caged Bird. I was hoping the artist might be in today."Professor Carter waved me over with a smil

A year later.At one of Europe's premier art venues, Henry sponsored a grand solo exhibition for me.No Lorenzo. No selfish parents.My paintings hung at the very center of the hall—drawing crowds of European elites and art critics, all pausing in awe.An hour before the exhibition opened, my phone buzzed. A message from an unknown Italian number, no name attached:"Lily, I never imagined you'd become this brilliant. I hope you find happiness in all the days to come."I read it calmly, swiped it away, and hit delete.At the same moment, inside the Lorenzo estate manor.Lorenzo sat alone in what used to be their master bedroom. Darkness everywhere, only the glow of his phone lighting up his haggard face.This room had once belonged to them.Now, in the closet, hung one sweater Lily had forgotten to take.He buried his face in it, breathing in whatever trace of her still lingered.After Lily left, the Lorenzo family had fallen on hard times. Their disgrace at the networking gala had made