The moment I sent the message, I felt a huge weight lift off my shoulders.

Before long, my phone started vibrating nonstop. The group chat was flooded with unread messages, but I didn't bother opening any of them.

Then, Mamma's call came through for the third time.

This time, I answered.

"Cristina, do you really have to break my heart like this?"

Her voice was trembling. "Why are you giving us back those things? Giada is having a heart attack because of it! She's in the hospital now! She's your sister. Did you even think about how your action would affect her?"

As I listened to her familiar words, my eyes stung, but no tears came.

This again.

Giada's poor health and fragile heart had always been her shield against criticism.

She had congenital heart disease, so my parents had to care for her, and I was sent away to boarding school at a young age.

And because of her, I was forced to learn how to survive independently before I even knew how to connect with my family.

Later, when I went abroad for high school, I struggled with the language barrier and felt overwhelmed.

But they scolded me for not calling often enough, for not being close enough to them, and for not having Giada's "gentle" nature.

In the past, I craved their love, and I would apologize. But I wouldn't do that anymore.

I gently interrupted Mamma's sobs. "Donna Soave, please stop crying."

The crying suddenly stopped.

I gave her a second to process the unfamiliar name, then spoke calmly again. "When you say these things, did you ever think that it might hurt me too?"

The line went silent.

Without waiting for her response, I hung up and turned off the phone.

The next morning, I packed my suitcase and moved into a single apartment near the office.

At the company's morning meeting, the director made a major announcement. One of our top Fennaris partners had opened a lead position on a core project overseas, with a one-year term.

Landing it would mean stepping directly into the international design scene. More importantly, it would mean that I could finally escape the control of the Soave and Dominici families.

But the director's next words were like a bucket of cold water.

"To ensure candidates are unaffected by domestic financial circumstances, applicants must provide proof of assets. Specifically, they must have 300 thousand dollars in an overseas account."

300 thousand dollars?

I checked my bank balance.

After deducting rent and other expenses, I didn't even have a fraction of that amount.

As a professional designer, my income wasn't low. But with every paycheck, I spent it all on expensive gifts for the Soaves and Ivano.

I had naively believed that if I gave everything without holding back, I'd get something in return one day.

But now I realized that if I weren't favored, nothing I did would matter.

Could I ask them for 300 thousand dollars?

No way.

From that day on, I stripped my life down to the bare essentials.

I spent my days at the office, buried in countless design sketches and revisions. At night, I took on side jobs, accepting every project I could find.

I worked through the nights, too exhausted to even lift my arms.

But when the money I earned with sweat hit my account, I felt at peace.

I thought I could escape their high-society world. But little did I know, someone wasn't willing to let me go.

That early morning, after finishing my side job, I sat in my rented room eating a cold piece of bread.

My friend, Debora Barbati, sent me a short video from a party.

The camera was focused on Giada.

She stood gracefully in the banquet hall, pretending to be concerned as she said, "Cristina hasn't come home in days. I'm so worried about her."

Not far away, Ivano was raising his glass, but his hand suddenly froze in midair. He frowned. "What's going on?"

Giada lowered her eyes, her voice growing softer. "I heard she's working multiple jobs. It's so hard for her. Do you think she's spent all her money? It's all our fault. If we had gone with her to Iberion during Christmas, she wouldn't have left. Should we help her out?"

A collective gasp rippled through the crowd as they exchanged loaded glances.

The video cut off there.

Debora sent an angry voice message. "Cristina, did you hear that? What nonsense is she talking about?"

I sighed softly and swallowed the last bite of dry bread.

Giada always knew how to step on me just enough to make herself seem kind. With just a few words, she turned my efforts into a childish tantrum.

And of course, Ivano believed her.

As expected, the next second, my phone buzzed with a wire transfer notification. Ivano had given me one million dollars.

His message followed immediately, every line of text dripping with condescending arrogance.

"You're my future Donna. Your hands are for wearing rings, not doing dirty work. Stop testing my limits by degrading yourself like this. Come get your Donna ring back when you're done playing."

I locked my phone, ignoring the million-dollar transfer.

The next day, I went to the office as usual and took on another side job after work.

Two weeks later, at an anonymous initial review meeting, my main design draft, Midnight Sun, was projected onto the big screen.

The project coordinator suddenly jumped to his feet. His voice barely contained his excitement as he exclaimed, "This piece has a soul! Every line seems to be breathing."

The room erupted in awe.

I sat in the corner. My hand gripping the pen was slick with sweat.

This was the ark I'd built through countless sleepless nights. It was finally going to carry me out of this torment.

The shortlist would be announced the next morning.

But the night before, just as I finished double-checking the data and preparing to encrypt it, the screen suddenly flashed, turning into a blinding blue.

A string of garbled code scrolled rapidly, and within seconds, the system froze completely.

I tried rebooting, updating, and controlling in the background, but the screen remained still.

Tens of gigabytes of design data were gone.

A cold shiver ran up my spine.

I suddenly remembered that Giada had boasted on social media about meeting a "genius hacker" just a few days ago.

In that instant, the string of my sanity snapped.

I grabbed a cab and headed straight for Soave Manor. Upon entering, I kicked open Giada's bedroom door.

Mamma and Papa were gathered around her bed, fussing over her.

When they saw me burst in with bloodshot eyes, Mamma paused for a moment, then smiled in relief. "Cristina? You're finally back. I knew you wouldn't last out there…"

I ignored her, my gaze fixed on Giada lying in bed. "Did you hire someone to hack my laptop?"

Giada flinched and curled deeper into her blankets. Her eyes instantly welled up. "Cristina, what are you talking about? I haven't even left my room. How can you just come back and yell at me?"

"Cristina, are you done?" Papa snapped, his voice sharp and piercing. "You finally come home, and instead of apologizing, you're yelling at Giada?"

Mamma caught on and joined in, shouting, "Giada has a heart condition! Don't you know that? Are you trying to kill her? I'll get Ivano here to let him see what kind of crazy woman you've become!"

She actually did it.

In less than ten minutes, Ivano arrived.

Seeing Giada with red eyes, curled up on the bed, he frowned and subtly positioned himself in front of her. "Cristina, I didn't expect jealousy to change you like this. When you won the award, you didn't share any of the glory with Giada. Now, when your laptop crashes, you blame it on her?"

He stepped forward, looking at me with nothing but disappointment in his eyes. "Did I not give you enough money? Is this a stunt to get money for repairs? If you can't handle the hardships out there, just give up and apologize.

"I never said you couldn't come back to me. Why must you make the whole family so unsettled? You're nothing like the smart, thoughtful Cristina I used to know!"

I stood there, staring at these people—some related by blood and some by an engagement.

My parents were endlessly scolding me, and my fiancé blamed me for competing for attention and scheming the moment he walked in without even asking for an explanation.

Each of them used their sharpest words to defend Giada, stabbing me.

Suddenly, I laughed.

I laughed until tears hit the floor. "You're right. It's pretty ridiculous that I came back in the middle of the night like this."

Without explaining, I just turned and walked out.

Behind me, voices shouted, but I couldn't hear them anymore.

Back in my cramped apartment, I collapsed onto the couch, burying my face in my knees.

It was ruined. Everything was ruined.

Just as I was about to give up completely, my phone, which I'd left on the side, lit up.

It was an email. The sender's name was a string of encrypted gibberish.

My hands shook as I opened it.

Inside the attachment was a massive compressed file. The name was "Midnight Sun".

I staggered to my backup laptop, downloaded the file, and unzipped it.

When the files appeared on the screen, tears burst from my eyes. Inside were all the original drafts and data for my design.

And in the body of the anonymous email, there was only one brief sentence. "Your talent should never be confined by any cage."

Third-person POV

The night after Cristina received the anonymous email, Ivano sat at the head of a private room in an upscale club on the outskirts of the city, casually sipping his drink and making small talk.

Odorico Dante, a partner on the Fennaris project, approached with his own glass and clinked it against Ivano's.

"Mr. Dominici, you truly have some remarkable talent around you. Just the other day, I saw the design sketch posted by Ms. Giada Soave. The Soave family sure has put a lot of effort into nurturing her. Even her casual sketches have a certain charm."

Ivano took a sip of his drink calmly. "She just does it to pass the time. She's not a professional designer."

"Of course. She's the Principessa, after all. As long as she's happy." Odorico laughed, agreeing.

Then, he swiftly changed the subject. This time, his tone was more excited. "But speaking of real professional designers, we've unexpectedly recruited a rare genius for our overseas project today!"

Ivano didn't look up as he wasn't particularly interested in office gossip.

Odorico grew increasingly animated as he spoke. "The lady's design drafts are incredible! They completely stunned several senior Fennaris artists at headquarters. She's the most talented person I've ever seen. She's bound to shine in this field!

"And funny enough, she shares the same last name as Ms. Giada. Her name is Cristina Soave. Mr. Dominici, have you heard of her?"

Ivano's fingers stopped playing with his glass.

Cristina Soave.

The name struck him like a dagger.

He suddenly remembered what Giada had said at the party a few nights ago about Cristina working multiple jobs.

He had thought that she was doing menial, unimportant work and had casually transferred some money to her.

He also recalled the words he'd said the night before, accusing her of childish manipulations to gain attention.

He had belittled her so much, but it turned out that her designs had earned high praise from industry leaders.

Cristina was slaving away at side jobs just to be sent abroad for the project. She had been preparing to leave all along, and no one had noticed!

She had once returned home for her family. If she left this time, would she ever come back?

Ivano suddenly threw his glass down.

Panicked, he rushed out of the room and dialed Cristina's number with trembling hands.