The Family Remains

My physics teacher held up my test paper with an 18-point score in front of all the students and parents and said, “Students like this are hopeless. I don’t even know how someone like this passed the high school entrance exam. “I didn’t think there was a way to cheat on the high school entrance exam, but it turns out there is. It gives people like this a chance to cheat.” He did not just insult my intelligence but also questioned my character and family. “Well, it’s not surprising. Only a junk-collecting family could raise a kid like this.” I curled up in my seat, too scared to say anything. But my stepmom could not stand it anymore. She smacked the chalk box off his desk, pointed at him, and yelled, “Who do you think you’re talking about?! “I send my kid to school and pay all the tuition and book fees! How did it turn into us being a junk-collecting family?! “You can’t even teach properly, and I haven’t called you out for it! Have you no shame?! You don’t deserve to be called a teacher! You’re just a piece of trash!” For some reason, she suddenly seemed imposing and heroic to me.

My mom treated me like the dirt beneath her shoes but worshiped my cousin like a queen. Since I could walk, I had scrubbed clothes and cooked meals, but I would still be yelled at or smacked if I messed up. On the contrary, my cousin twirled in princess dresses and played the piano. She was cherished by my aunt and uncle like she was the center of their world. Then came the day everything changed. At my cousin's birthday party, my mom got drunk and spilled the secret—she switched me and my cousin at birth. It turned out that I wasn't her daughter; I was my aunt's daughter. I was over the moon. Finally, I thought I'd found my real family, people who might actually care about me. But when I told my aunt, she just smirked. "You think I didn't know? I don't want you. You'll never be my daughter." Her words hit me like a bucket of ice water. I couldn't understand. Why didn't anyone want me? But that day, I made a vow—I'd never beg for anyone's love again. Years later, when I got into Mayward University—the best educational institution in the country—I threw two DNA test reports on the table in front of them. For the first time, they both looked terrified.

My ex-fiancé made me do a blood test the night before our wedding. The next day, he threw the genetic report on my face and dumped me over defective genes. The reason was that the Zimmer family only wanted perfect heirs, and he said that I was not worthy. He broke off the engagement, and instantly married the girl-next-door with perfect genes. Five years later, he reappeared in the hospital, clutching his ill son. He saw my daughter who had similar rashes, and he thought I had given birth to his daughter in secrecy. Little did he know that my daughter had nothing to do with him and only had a mild seafood allergy. I would not be defined by the so-called defective genes again, while me and my daughter live happily and healthily, it was their turn to be destroyed.

I thought I was the Conti family's "legitimate wife." Until the day I saw it with my own eyes, my husband, Christian, resting his hand on my stepsister Emma's bump belly, gentle like he was cradling the future. Everyone told me to be "big-heated": when the baby was born, they'd put it under my name, make him call me Mom, because the family needed an "heir." Even the private doctor they hired announced it in front of everyone—steady heartbeat, and from the ultrasound, it looked like a boy. I didn't cry and didn't make a scene. I just picked up the phone and told my lawyer to initiate the divestment. Twenty-four hours later, Christian's cards were frozen, his projects got their loans yanked, and assets started getting seized— That's when he finally understood: he hadn't betrayed a wife. He'd betrayed the lifeline of the entire family. But what I really wanted to know was— When he dropped to his knees and begged me to come back, would I tell him— I had already picked out his grave?

After failing the SAT, my parents had kicked me out and sent me overseas to work, forcing me to earn money to support my younger sister's college education. I had worked abroad for ten years, sending almost everything I earned back home. When the first song I wrote was released, it gained a bit of attention. Around that time, my childhood friend, Ian Swain, flew in from overseas just to find me. "Lexi, I didn't know your family sent you here to suffer like this. From now on, you won't have to face it alone." He had registered our marriage with me abroad and stayed by my side while we worked. I had been deeply moved—I shared every song I wrote with him and even let him manage my accounts. That was, until I overheard a conversation between Ian and my family. "Ian, isn't it a bit wrong for you to keep giving me the songs she wrote? What if Lexi finds out?" "Relax. Back then, when your family handed me her college admission letter, she didn't suspect a thing. Compared to that, this is nothing."

I accidentally ruined the cake at the fake daughter's birthday party. As punishment, my parents and brother locked me in the basement. "You’ve let your jealousy ruin a perfectly good celebration. Stay here and think about what you’ve done!" they shouted. They left me in the basement and went off to the Maldives to throw another birthday party for the fake daughter. When a gas leak occurred at home, I was still locked in the basement. As soon as they remotely turned the lights on, the whole house exploded, taking my life with it. After my death, my spirit drifted over to where my family was celebrating. I saw them gathered around the fake daughter on a beach. When a luxury three-tiered cake was brought out, they watched her make a wish with a smile. The fake daughter put on a show of concern about me. "Darling, you’re too kind-hearted. People like her deserve to be locked up and taught a lesson. Let’s see if she dares to take anything from you again," they said. Hearing that, I completely gave up on my family. When they returned home and saw the destroyed house, however, my parents and brother went mad.

After three years of living with my wife’s family, everyone thought they could treat me like a pushover. Me? I’m just waiting for her to hold my hand before I can give her the world.

The most reckless thing I had ever done was turn my back on the Moretti name and leave St. Clair Harbor with Lucian DeLuca when the Commission pushed his family out and he had nothing left. For three years, we lived in a drafty Brooklyn loft and ducked black Chevrolets on winter nights. Then Lucian fought his way back to the East Coast table. Everyone started calling him Mr. DeLuca again,and I became Mrs. DeLuca, the woman he swore he would always protect. Then Clara Voss appeared. She had once saved his life as a night nurse at an underground clinic, and Lucian never forgot it. He bought her a clinic, protected her family, and let her step, inch by inch, into the middle of our marriage. He said he still loved me, but he also said I was spoiled, jealous, and needed to learn my place. So I did. I signed the divorce papers and left New York behind. Mrs. DeLuca was dead. Evelyn Moretti had come back.

Three days ago, I almost died. A birthday cake was needed for my sister, Rosa Esposito's birthday, so my dad told me to pick it up. He claimed that this was my way of making it up to Rosa for accidentally spilling coffee onto her new dress. When I was cornered in an alley by the thugs, I was in the middle of sending Rosa an apology text. They covered my mouth and dragged me into a van. That was when I heard them say, "Yup, that's her alright. That's the bitch named Rosa Esposito." I shook my head, trying to explain that I wasn't Rosa at all. But my name didn't matter at all when blows started raining down on me. That was how I spent the next three days in living hell. By the time I wake up in the hospital, my phone harbors a new family photo sent by Rosa. It features my dad, my older brother, Rafael Esposito, as well as my husband, Enzo Vitale. All three of them can be seen surrounding Rosa. When I was in the middle of getting pinned on the ground while feeling blades slashing my skin, these people were celebrating Rosa's birthday happily with her. Later on, Rosa smiles at my face. "Do you have any idea how much I hate that face of yours? I also hate how much better you are than me as well as the fact that everyone likes you more than me! "That's why I've robbed all of their love from you… be it Dad, Rafael, or your husband! You, on the other hand, deserve to be alone till the day you die!" At that moment, I've made three choices. First, I forge a miscarriage report. Next, I place a signed divorce agreement into a giftbox. Finally, I dial the number of my mentor, Sofia Bianchi. There, I agree to participate in a classified project research that will last for ten years without getting in contact with anyone. Since then, I, Valentina Esposito, have never existed in this world.

In the fifth year of my spiritual practice, my phone suddenly exploded with messages. [Aria, why aren't you replying? Are you really that petty?] Puzzled, I opened Messenger, and froze. My cousin, who never seemed to measure up to me and always went out of her way to oppose me, was getting married, and she expected me to attend. "Sorry, I've been busy lately. I won't be able to make it," I replied politely. However, my courteous response only fueled their ridicule. "Stop pretending! You haven't kept in touch with your family for years. Are you too embarrassed because your life is such a mess?" "She won't even come to her own cousin's wedding? How heartless!" "Let me guess, the real reason she can't come is she can't afford a wedding gift." One cutting remark after another appeared, until Betty Stewart stepped in, feigning concern. "Come on, don't be so harsh on Aria. We're family, after all." "If she's really struggling, I could ask my husband to help her get a cleaning job." Then she sent me the digital invitation, the gold lettering gleaming. When I saw the groom's name, my pupils constricted in shock. Joseph Clark? Wasn't he the short-lived husband who had spent three years sucking up to me just to extend his life?