The moment the door closed, Alessio wrapped his arms around me from behind, holding me tight.

"Marcella, listen to me." His voice, trembling slightly, was right by my ear. "It's impossible for me and Bianca. You know that."

I didn't move.

His embrace once felt like a safe harbor. Now it was a cage, suffocating me.

"It was over the day she left three years ago," Alessio pleaded. "All I want now is a life with you. With our child."

I broke free from his hold and walked to my vanity.

A row of prenatal vitamins lined the vanity—folic acid, calcium, iron. Everything a mother-to-be needed. For three months, Alessio had made sure I took them. Every. Single. Day.

Now they just sat there, mocking me.

I walked right past them, over to the bed.

"Marcella?" Alessio sounded confused. "You haven't taken your vitamins."

I ignored him, laid down, and pulled the covers over my head.

"Marcella!" His voice rose. "What are you doing?"

I closed my eyes.

"Damn it!" He strode to the bed and ripped the covers off me. "Are you going to risk the baby just to get rid of Bianca?"

The baby.

How ironic.

He never cared about me. Only the baby in my belly.

"Marcella, get up!" Alessio's anger exploded. "You think this will make me kick Bianca out? You manipulative woman!"

Manipulative.

I laughed silently.

The truly manipulative ones were him and Gianni.

I rolled over, turning my back to him.

"You!" Alessio was shaking with rage, but he didn't drag me out of bed.

The room fell silent.

A long time later, I heard the door open. He was gone.

Later that night, I woke up thirsty.

I tiptoed downstairs. The kitchen was dark.

I poured a glass of water, about to head back up, when I heard voices from the garden.

Through the glass door, I saw Alessio and Bianca standing in the moonlight.

"Why can't I have my old room back?" Bianca's voice was laced with hurt. "All my memories are in there."

Alessio sighed. "I promised her there would be no trace of you in this house."

"But I'm back now," Bianca stepped closer. "She should understand."

"Bianca," Alessio's voice was tired. "She's pregnant."

"So what if she's pregnant?" Bianca's tone turned sharp. "Didn't you say you never wanted a child with her?"

My hand, holding the glass, froze.

Alessio was silent for a few seconds, then gave a bitter laugh. "I was drunk that night. I got careless."

"Careless?"

"I forgot to make sure the doctor gave her the shot," Alessio admitted, his voice low. "Three years, I never missed it. Just that one time..."

Three years.

A birth control shot.

I thought back. I remembered how he'd stiffen every time I held him after we slept together and said I wanted a baby with him.

I remembered wondering why I never got pregnant, even though we were together so often.

I thought it was because I grew up poor, that my body wasn't strong enough. I choked down bitter supplements every day, just for the chance of a future with him.

It turns out the "love" he was feeding me every day was poison, meant to keep me from ever having his child.

"So what now?" Bianca's voice was panicked. "You're not really going to keep this baby, are you?"

"The baby is Moretti blood," Alessio's voice became firm. "It stays."

Bianca went silent.

"I've already bought a penthouse in Manhattan," Alessio continued. "You can move in in a couple of days."

"What?" Bianca's voice shot up. "You're kicking me out?"

"I'm not kicking you out," Alessio explained. "I just don't want to upset Marcella. She's pregnant. She can't be emotional."

Don't want to upset me?

What a beautiful lie.

If he really didn't want to upset me, why did he have me injected with birth control behind my back?

Why did he leak that humiliating video?

"Alessio..." Bianca's voice broke into a sob. "Don't you love me anymore?"

No answer.

Then I saw Bianca throw herself at Alessio, stand on her toes, and kiss him.

Alessio froze for a second but didn't push her away.

Bianca grabbed his hand and slowly placed it on her waist.

Under the moonlight, their shadows tangled together.

Alessio's hand began to stroke her back.

She let out a soft sigh.

"I missed you, Alessio," she whispered in his ear. "I've been going crazy thinking about you."

"Bianca..." Alessio's voice was hoarse.

"You missed me too, didn't you?" Her hands started unbuttoning his shirt. "She could never love you like I do."

Alessio didn't stop her.

They kissed more deeply. Bianca's dress slipped to the ground.

And watching it all, a wave of nausea rolled through my stomach.

I couldn't hold it back. I spun around, ran to the sink, and threw up the water I’d just drunk.

I gripped the counter, dry-heaving until there was nothing left.

When I looked up, I saw my reflection in the dark window. Pale face, empty eyes.

I smiled at my dead-eyed reflection. Oh, Alessio, I thought. You are going to burn for this.

I woke up the next morning to a row of pills on the nightstand.

And a note in Alessio's familiar handwriting:

"Babe, remember to take your meds. I'm handling some work. I'll be back for dinner."

I glanced at it and walked out of the room.

I needed a trigger.

Something that would give me a "reasonable" excuse to storm out in a rage, creating the window I needed to disappear for good.

And Bianca was the perfect fuse.

Laughter echoed from the living room downstairs.

Bianca was wearing an expensive Chanel suit, chatting with a few of her socialite friends.

"You have no idea, for my eighteenth birthday, Gianni and Alessio threw me the most amazing party!" Bianca's voice was full of pride. "All of Manhattan's high society was there."

Her friends oohed and aahed.

"And do you remember that necklace? The limited edition Tiffany one? Only three in the world!"

"And that couture gown, worth a million dollars!"

Hearing my footsteps, Bianca turned. Seeing me coming down the stairs, a flash of malice crossed her face.

"Oh, right," she said, feigning innocence. "Marcella, we have the same birthday! How was yours?"

The same birthday.

What a cruel coincidence.

While she was enjoying her million-dollar party, I was being chased by my foster father's debt collectors.

To pay off his gambling debts, that man beat me black and blue in front of everyone.

And Bianca?

She was in her million-dollar dress, basking in compliments on the dance floor.

It's okay. It's all in the past. And it's all about to end.

I ignored her jab and walked toward the kitchen.

"Hmm, not talking?" Bianca's voice was dripping with fake concern. "Is it a bad memory?"

Her friends exchanged knowing glances.

"Should I help you remember?" Bianca stood up and walked toward the giant screen in the living room. "I happen to have a video right here!"

I stopped dead in my tracks.

This was it. The moment.

But even though I was prepared, seeing that familiar scene on the huge screen still felt like a punch to the gut.

In a rundown room in the slums, an eighteen-year-old me was curled in a corner.

My drunk foster father held a belt, whipping me again and again.

"You little bitch! Pay what you owe! Go get me money!"

The crack of the belt was crystal clear. My screams echoed through the mansion.

"Please... stop... I don't have any money..."

On the screen, I was bruised and bloody, still begging for mercy.

Bianca and her friends were howling with laughter.

"Oh my god, is that really the Ricci princess?"

"She looks like a beggar!"

"Hahaha, that's pathetic!"

Shaking, I rushed toward the TV and hurled the remote at the screen.

The giant screen shattered with a deafening crash.

The living room fell silent.

Bianca's friends screamed and ran. I turned and grabbed the suitcase I'd already packed.

But in the next second, Bianca blocked my path.

She kicked the suitcase. "What's in there?" she demanded. "That's all Ricci property. Open it up and let me see."

I froze for a second, then a wave of humiliation washed over me.

They started grabbing at me.

"What, cat got your tongue? Open it up!"

Bianca sneered. "You're obviously hiding something. Bet you stole the key to Alessio's safe to sell it!"

A joke. The entire estate was in my name. What would I need to steal?

I shoved her hand away. "Get off me! Don't touch me!"

Bianca stared, shocked that the weak girl she knew would dare talk to her like that.

She exchanged a look with her short-haired friend, then kicked my suitcase over.

My clothes, paints, and sketches scattered across the floor.

Seeing the designer labels on my clothes, a flash of jealousy crossed Bianca's face. She hated me for taking everything she'd had. And now that she knew Alessio and Gianni still loved her best, she wasn't holding back.

Bianca hooked one of my drawings with her foot. It was a portrait I had spent a month on.

"What is this garbage?" she sneered, grinding it under her heel. "You call this art?"

The paper ripped beneath her foot.

She reached for the collar of my shirt, a sick smile on her face, like she wanted to tear my clothes and humiliate me completely.

I snapped. I shoved her hard, sending her sprawling to the floor.

Then I brought my hand across her face. Crack.

And again. Crack.

Blood bloomed on her perfect lips.

I raised my hand again.

As I brought it down for the third time, a powerful hand clamped around my wrist.

"Marcella!" Alessio's voice was full of fury. "What the hell are you doing?!"

He looked at Bianca, pathetic on the floor, and his face turned to stone.

Gianni rushed over from behind, pushed me hard, and scooped Bianca into his arms.

"Bianca! Are you okay?" his voice was filled with concern. "Are you hurt?"

They only had eyes for Bianca.

Just like three years ago.

"Apologize!" Alessio commanded, his voice pained. "Apologize to Bianca, now!"

I looked at him, hysterical. "Alessio, you only see me hitting her, but did you see how she trampled all over my dignity?"

"There's nothing to explain!" Alessio cut me off coldly. "I saw you hitting her!"

Gianni grabbed a wine glass from a nearby table and smashed it at my feet.

Glass shards flew everywhere.

"Apologize! Now!" he roared.

I stood there, looking at my scattered drawings, at the shattered screen.

They only saw my raised hand.

They didn't see Bianca humiliating me, playing that video, crushing my art.

Bianca sobbed in Gianni's arms, but she shot me a look of pure triumph.

Her friends whispered nearby, their eyes alive with the thrill of the drama.

The maids sighed and shook their heads, as if I was the one who didn't know her place.

I suddenly laughed.

Then, calmly, I turned and walked away.

"Don't stop her!" Alessio and Gianni roared at the same time. "Let her go!"

"Go on, crawl back to that slum you grew up in!" Gianni's voice was filled with disgust. "That's where you belong!"

I didn't react. I just walked out of the mansion.

A black car was already waiting at the door.

I'd paid cash for a week of an anonymous car service. The driver only followed orders and never asked questions.

The car pulled away from the estate.

My heart felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible hand. Every breath was agony.

But I knew I couldn't stop.

An hour later, an "accidental" car crash would happen on the edge of the city.

A doctor I'd already arranged would produce a medical report.

It would clearly state: Miscarriage due to extreme anxiety.

And I, with my baby safe in my womb, would be on a flight they could never trace, under a new name.

（卡）