“Who was that? I thought I heard something about a visa,” Lorenzo asked casually, his gaze fixed on his phone, scrolling as always. I don’t know what time he got home last night. And I didn’t care to ask.

“It’s nothing. Just work-related,” I replied, my tone light, dismissive.

His shoulders relaxed, the tension leaving him with a quiet sigh. “Good. I hope you’re not planning some extravagant honeymoon. I don’t have time for that.”

“I know,” I said simply.

Since Stefania had returned to his life, Lorenzo barely had room for anything—or anyone—else. It was obvious, even in the smallest moments. We were sitting side by side on the couch, but the silence between us was palpable. Heavy. Suffocating.

The quiet stretched on until I couldn’t bear it any longer. I stood and went to the bedroom. When I returned, Lorenzo held the crescent moon necklace. “This,” he said. “How did it end up with you? I’ve been looking for it everywhere.”

“I found it on the road,” I replied. “Only realized it was yours after I saw your lost item post online. I wanna give it to you, anyway. Since you have it, no surprise wedding gift then.”

Lorenzo’s eyes flicked to the necklace, a spark of recognition lighting up his face. “Yeah. Thanks.”

I nodded, feigning indifference. It didn’t escape me that he had spent two million dollars searching for that trinket—because it belonged to Stefania. Meanwhile, the total cost of our wedding barely reached six hundred thousand.

The favoritism was so blatant, it was almost laughable.

“You seem relieved,” I said coolly. “By the way… where’s our wedding rings?” I asked since he said he will show those to me.

That caught him off guard. His hand instinctively went to his pocket, “I… I forgot it.”

I stared at him, silent, unyielding. Something flickered in his expression—uncertainty, discomfort. Lorenzo Corvino, the man who ruled his organization with an iron fist, looked uneasy under my gaze.

He shifted in his seat, opening his mouth as if to explain. But before he could, his phone buzzed. The screen lit up with Stefania’s name.

Without a word, Lorenzo stood. The tension in his shoulders spoke louder than any excuse he could have offered. He took a step toward the door but stopped halfway. Turning back, he leaned down and pressed a fleeting kiss to my forehead.

“Sorry, mia moglie,” he murmured, his voice unusually soft. “I’ve been so caught up lately. You’ve had to handle everything on your own.”

I didn’t respond. I just smiled. Acting dumb again in his eyes.

“I promise,” he continued, a faint smile playing on his lips, “once this busy schedule is over, I’ll make it up to you. I’ll make you the happiest woman in the world.”

He said the words like a man reciting lines from a script—lines that had worked wonders before. If this had been the past, I might have believed him. I might have clung to those words, hoping against hope that they were true.

But not now. Not anymore.

I watched him walk out, closing the door behind him without a backward glance. My hands clenched into fists at my sides. His sweet words were nothing but sugar coating over a bitter reality that once might have made my heart flutter.

****

The following day, the last two days before the wedding, dawned gray and overcast. Only two thin pages remained on the calendar in the living room. I tore one page without ceremony, my eyes lingering on today’s wish—Have a reunion dinner together with families.

It was a wish I had clung to for years, a dream born from the fracture of my family. But just as my mother could never forgive my father, I could never forgive Lorenzo.

I didn’t dwell on it. There was no point.

Instead, I applied a light touch of makeup, slipping into a black and red dress I’d always loved. It wasn’t extravagant, but it was enough to remind me of who I was—before Lorenzo, before Stefania, before all of this.

I spent the day alone. I went to the movies, ordering a full couple’s meal for myself. The server gave me a curious look, but I ignored it, savoring the food without a care for how it might appear.

Next, I rode the Ferris wheel. It was something I’d always wanted to do, though Lorenzo had never found the time. As the gondola climbed higher, the city stretched out before me. The sun began its slow descent, casting everything in a golden, almost ethereal light.

At the highest point, I opened the gondola’s window and let the wind rush in. The breeze kissed my face, carrying away the remnants of sadness that clung to me like a second skin. For the first time in years being with Lorenzo, I felt weightless. Free.

I opened my arms and let the moment wash over me.

The memories—the fights, the lies, the betrayals—seemed to drift away with the wind, fading into the horizon as the sun disappeared below it. In their place, there was only peace.

The Ferris wheel slowed to a gentle halt, and I stepped off, still carrying the faint remnants of the breeze that had seemed to cleanse me. As I walked through the park, the colorful lights from nearby attractions painted the ground in shifting patterns. My heels clicked against the pavement, a steady rhythm that matched the calm resolve building in my chest.

“Miss Damsel!”

The voice was soft but unmistakable. I turned to see Matteo standing a few paces away, his tall frame silhouetted against the glowing carnival lights. His eyes were fixed on me, a mixture of concern and something deeper flickering in their depths.

“Matteo,” I said, my tone neutral. “What’s the need to follow me even here?”

He stepped closer, his presence grounding me in a way I couldn’t quite explain. “I could ask you the same thing. Riding a Ferris wheel alone, dressed like you’re going for some date night? That’s quite lonely!”

I rolled my eyes and turned to walk away. “I wanted to be alone.”

“Clearly,” he replied, following. “But you know I can’t just let you wander around without keeping an eye on you, Miss Damsel.”

I stopped walking, faced him. “What you can’t comprehend in what I said?”

“Same question for you, Damsel. What you don’t get when I say ‘I can’t just let you wander without keeping an eye on you,’ huh?’

“What’s your problem?” I annoyingly asked. “Don’t tell me you wanna keep your act playing a loyal dog of Lorenzo when in fact you already suggested something ‘revenge,’ right?”

“Act?” He grinned. “Aren’t we on the same boat?”

“Matteo…” I hushed his name with my controlled emotion of being irritated. “I know you hate the Corvinos and Volantes, I feel that. Even though I don’t know your reasons at all… still, that’s not my business to dig on. I hope you get what I mean. Do what makes you happy and satisfied and so let me do my business. Alone!”

“I know,” Matteo firmly said as he followed. “I know you’re planning on not marrying him,” he added calmly, which made me stop walking.

Who told Matteo that? It was just Mama that I informed.

“Don’t overthink.” Matteo chuckled, flashing his set of white teeth. “Let me say that I know your plan of escaping for it was the usual thing the scorned woman do when they were cheated by their beloved.”

“Uh-huh?”

“Yeah…” He nodded. “And I’m here suggesting some additives plans for I know how complicated that will be for you so… you know, I can’t just stand by and say nothing.”

My hands clenched into fists at my sides. “You don’t understand anything about me, Matteo! Whatever I was plotting, it’s not that simple right but I already made sure of its success! So for the nth time. Just fuck off!” I turned and walked away from him. Hoping he won’t follow anymore.

“You deserve better, Damsel!” Matteo said loudly that I puffed out some air irritatedly. “You deserve someone who sees you! Who values you! Not someone who’s too busy with some bitch and disregarding a gem like you…” he whispered his last sentence as I was already in front of him.

And that made me forget what to rebut. The part of me that had been fighting to stay strong for so long wanted to collapse into his arms, to let him take away the weight I’d been carrying. But another part of me, the part that had built walls around my heart to survive, refused to let him in and see my weakness.

“I have to go,” I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper. “Please let me go, Matteo. Alone. I need to be alone.”

He nodded, stepping back. “If that’s what you want.”

“Thanks.” I turned and walked away, my steps quick and purposeful. But I couldn’t ignore the feeling that I was leaving something important behind. Matteo’s words echoed in my mind, stirring emotions.

When I reached home, the house was as empty as I’d left it. The final page of the calendar stared back at me, a silent reminder of the day to come.

Tomorrow wasn’t just the last day before the wedding. It was the last chance to decide what kind of future I wanted—and whether I was brave enough to take it.

****

I woke up with another plan in my mind. I wanna spend my last day before the wedding so I will be strolling at the Flora Park and I hope Matteo won’t follow me. I admit that he helped me more with my escape plan with his suggestions when we were in a café two weeks ago but that’s just it. Still, I didn’t tell him what I was really planning.

I looked around the park. The place where I held many memories of mine with Lorenzo when we were teenagers.

I bought my last ice cream of the night, a strawberry cone, and strolled out of the park as the warm lights behind me faded into the distance. I found a bench near the fountain, sitting down to savor the melting treat. Above me, the constellations glimmered like scattered diamonds, their eternal presence a quiet reassurance.

The stars had always been my sanctuary, the only constant in my chaotic world. As a child, during those nights when my father’s rage spilled over and I was sent fleeing into the dark, Lorenzo would find me. He’d take my hand, pull me into the grass, and we’d lie there, watching the heavens until my tears dried.

That version of Lorenzo felt so far away now, a relic of a past that no longer mattered. People came and went, fleeting and unpredictable, but the stars—they never left. No matter where I ended up, the same constellations would shine above me.

I finished the ice cream and stood to leave. The night was quiet, peaceful, until a message pinged on my phone, cutting through the stillness.

STEFANIA BITCH: Dad’s sweet and sour fish is amazing as always! I bet you must’ve never tried it, Aletta.

Curiously, I clicked on the attached video. It opened to a scene of two families seated around a lavish dinner table. Red and gold decorations adorned the walls, double happiness symbols prominently displayed. In the center of it all, Lorenzo and Stefania sat close, laughing and talking animatedly.

My stomach twisted, but not with anger. No, this felt more like bitter amusement.

Was this supposed to hurt me? Stefania’s petty games were laughable at best. I’d endured far worse than her childish attempts to gloat. But what struck me was the irony—whose wedding were they celebrating? Mine? Or hers?

With a calm detachment, I deleted and blocked her number. Then, almost instinctively, I opened my chat with Lorenzo.

The last message I’d sent him was a week ago. I scrolled up, skimming through months of one-sided conversations. I had shared everything with him—plans for our future, updates on mundane parts of my day, even moments when I just needed someone to talk to. His replies, when they came, were short and perfunctory. Most of the time, they weren’t about me at all. They were about Stefania.

And what was the point of reviewing my chat box with Lorenzo? Just checking for the audacity and absurdity?

I set the phone down, ready to leave, when it began to ring. Lorenzo’s name flashed across the screen.

“Where are you?” His voice came through sharp and impatient. “Why aren’t you home yet? It’s late.”

I glanced at the time—8:20 p.m. It wasn’t particularly late by his standards. How many nights had he stayed out until dawn without a word? How many times had I waited for him for the last three months we were living together in the villa that I left the light on, hangover soup ready on the stove?

“I could ask you the same thing, you know. Where have you been, Lorenzo?” I said evenly, “And what’s the matter not seeing me right now? The wedding will be tomorrow yet all of it is for formality, so… there’s no need to stay home, right?”

“Aletta,” he said, his tone softening, but there was still that edge of control, that undercurrent of possession. “You know I’m busy. Okay… I get it. I’m sorry for leaving you and making you arrange everything for the wedding alone. But I haven’t seen you in days, of course, I miss you. That’s why I’m looking for you. And our family has a reunion right now, you must be here.”

I almost laughed. It was so absurd it bordered on comedy. “You miss me?” I asked with my taunting tone. “Really, Lorenzo?”

“Can you be more reasonable, Aletta?” Lorenzo asked and now his tone is somehow back to being normal of him. Cold. Always cold on me. “Enough with your tantrums.”

My voice tinged with disbelief next. “Hah! Wow…” I snickered then calmed myself. “Okay, Lorenzo…” I shrugged. “Reunion, eh? Then, yeah… I think I must be here. Why was I informed late?”

“Yes,” he said quickly, as if afraid I’d hang up. His tone changed, became lighter, thinking he again won over me. “Tomorrow is our wedding, and they plan to surprise us. But you’re not here and that's sad. I told them that I’ll bring you here. So, tell me where you are, Aletta, I’ll come pick you up.”

The sincerity in his voice was almost convincing. Almost.

I hesitated for a moment before sending him my location. There was no point in arguing. He would find me either way.

Ten minutes later, the low growl of his Urus broke the silence of the quiet street. Lorenzo pulled up beside me, the sleek black car gleaming under the faint glow of the streetlights. He stepped out, his tailored suit impeccable as always, but there was a shadow in his eyes—something restless, something unresolved.

“What?” Lorenzo asked as I wasn’t standing yet even though he already approached me. “You’re still sitting here? It’s our big day tomorrow, Aletta. We will be husband and wife. You already know how busy I am managing the organization and my other businesses, I expect you to—”

“Big day,” I snapped, my voice flat. “Right.”

He sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. “Aletta, please. Can we not do this tonight?”

I stood, brushing off my dress. “Do what, Lorenzo? I wasn’t aware we are into something at all. And what was that, anyway?”

His jaw tightened, the flash of frustration unmistakable. “You know what I mean. Look, I’m trying here. I don’t want to fight. I don’t want to kill the excitement everyone in our family has for tomorrow.”

“Neither do I,” I said calmly. “But it’s funny how that only seems to matter when you’re the one uncomfortable.”

He took a step closer, his hand reaching for mine. “Aletta, I—”

“Save it,” I interrupted, pulling away. “There’s a reunion that we need to attend, right? Then, let’s just go.”

I opened the front passenger door as usual, expecting nothing out of the ordinary. But something caught my eye—a pink cushion sitting on the seat, a garish pop of color in Lorenzo’s sleek black luxury car.

It wasn’t mine.

My gaze shifted to the spot where a safety charm I’d once begged him to hang used to dangle. It was gone, replaced by a pendant—a moon and stars entwined. The kind of thing a couple would share.

My chest tightened for another insult, but I forced myself to remain calm. Silently, I moved the cushion aside, pretending I hadn’t noticed. That was when I saw it.

A lace strap. Torn. Black. Lingerie.

The metallic taste of betrayal surged in my throat, but I swallowed it back. Calm. Always calm. I grabbed a tissue, wiping my hands as if the fabric had left a stain on me. Without a word, I slipped into the back seat, eager to put distance between myself and the quiet mockery of the pink cushion.

Lorenzo didn’t notice. His eyes were fixed on his phone, his fingers flying across the screen.

“So,” he asked casually, not looking up, “what made you go to the park alone? Are you done wrapping up all the wedding stuff?”

“Almost done.” My voice was even, but inside, I felt a thousand fractures deepening.

He smiled, a gesture that had once melted my heart but now felt hollow. “I remember how much you always wanted to ride the Ferris wheel. When I get the chance, I’ll take you out for some fun.”

“It’s fine,” I said, turning my gaze out the window, fastening my seatbelt with deliberate slowness.

To Lorenzo, the wedding was just another transaction, a duty to check off his list. To him, I was something that came with the title of being a ‘good patriarch.’ Something useful for his image.

He finally set his phone aside and started the engine. The soft melody of a song played through the speakers. Stefania’s favorite. Of course.

The city blurred past as I focused on the neon lights that reflected against the Urus’ windows, a stark contrast to the stars above. I thought of the stars often—constant, untouched by human failings. But tonight, even their beauty felt dimmed, obscured by the haze of everything I couldn’t put into words.

When we arrived at Lorenzo’s family’s Elysian Manor, he strode ahead without a backward glance. That was Lorenzo—always walking ahead, never bothering to see if I was following.

Inside, the house was alive with movement. The remnants of a meal sat untouched on the dining table, and the aroma of stale wine lingered in the air. The maids bustled about, clearing plates while laughter echoed from the sitting room. Lorenzo disappeared into the warmth of that laughter, where Stefania’s voice rose above the rest, light and carefree.

I stood in the doorway, feeling like an outsider in a life I was supposed to call my own. Then Gloria, Lorenzo’s mother, noticed me.

“Aletta, come sit with me.” Her voice was soft, her smile warm, as she reached out to take my hand. “You’re such a good girl. So simple, so beautiful, and so dedicated to this family. Women like you are rare these days.”

I nodded, offering the polite smile I’d perfected over the years. A smile that said everything they wanted to hear and nothing of what I truly felt.

Gloria’s gaze flickered toward Stefania, her tone shifting just slightly. “Though, with Lorenzo’s position, he could have found someone more... fitting, I’ve always told him to value what he has.”

Her words sliced through me. Sharp. Precise.

“You’ve been with him all these years without a word of complaint. You deserve more than this,” Gloria added, her eyes lingering on my face as though searching for a crack in my composure. And then the coup de grâce came next. “Aletta, you’re not getting any younger. Why not quit your job and give the Corvino family a strong, healthy child? Stay home, care for your husband, and raise children once you're married—be the dutiful wife and mother for our family.”

Every muscle in my body tensed. Still, I smiled. If I weren’t leaving tomorrow, I would have stood up and shouted everything. And tell them proudly that I already quit my job. I already resigned but not for Lorenzo, and not to carry their family’s heir.

To them, I wasn’t a person. I was a tool—a womb to bear heirs, a pretty ornament to sit quietly by Lorenzo’s side at social events, and remain meek and submissive even if their son kept a mistress in the form of Stefania.

Most of all, for them I was replaceable.

Stefania’s laughter from across the room echoed louder, a sharp reminder of just how replaceable I was.