For my birthday, I received an application to the Augustine Academy for Young Women.

My fiancé, Julian Valachi, the Underboss of the Chicago Outfit, signed the document, as did my parents.

They conspired to send me away for so-called "re-education."

There, they injected me with tranquilizers and replaced my name with a number.

I was brainwashed day and night, subjected to a year of mental and physical torture. They broke me until I learned how to smile, how to obey.

A year later, I emerged, successfully "molded" into the quiet, elegant, and perfect fiancée they had envisioned.

When Julian saw me again, he announced with satisfaction, "We can finally have our wedding."

I smiled back at him, giving him the submission he craved.

But that smile wasn't submission. It was my farewell before I vanished from their world completely.

They used to loathe me. So why, after I vanished from their lives, did every single one of them seem to lose their minds?

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1

I was released from the academy on the day of my cousin Isla Vance's party—a celebration of her formal introduction to the family.

My parents, Marco and Elena Ricci, informed me that Isla had pleaded on my behalf—the sole reason I was being released.

The so-called "academy" was formally known as the Augustine Academy for Young Women.

It was the private property of the Valachi family, an elite disciplinary institution designed to "polish" defiant girls like us. Everyone knew its true purpose was to deal with those who brought shame to the family.

I had packed my bags early that morning and waited at the academy's gate.

However, an entire day passed, and not a single car from the Ricci family appeared.

It wasn't until darkness had completely swallowed the sky that my phone finally rang.

"What kind of tantrum are you throwing now, Seraphina?" my brother Lorenzo's voice was icy on the other end. "A year in that place and you still haven't learned to be grateful? Today is an important day for Isla. Must you make everyone worry about you?"

A cold, humorless smile touched the corner of my mouth.

I had spent a year in there. Locked in a sterile white room where the lights never turned off. Forced to write "I will obey" over and over again. They injected me with tranquilizers to keep me quiet, to make me submissive, to strip me of any will to resist.

They called it "molding."

Sometimes, I was locked in the "Silence Room." It was so soundless you could only hear your own frantic heartbeat. But crying was forbidden.

After a year, I had finally learned to be what they wanted—smiling, quiet, composed, never talking back.

This was what they called an "education."

Lorenzo continued to berate me over the phone. "Father and Mother said you must thank Isla. If she hadn't pleaded for you, you wouldn't be getting out today at all."

I was silent for a long moment, then replied calmly, "I'm still at the academy. No one came to pick me up."

Lorenzo fell silent. A moment later, he scoffed, "Then figure out a way back yourself. Or are you getting attached to the place?"

I didn't respond.

Attached?

That academy was a prison you entered but never truly left.

The voice on the phone changed. It was my father, Marco. "We did it for your own good, Seraphina. You dared to meet with someone from a rival family. You needed to reflect on what you had done." His voice was deep and powerful.

"I understand, Father," I replied, my voice devoid of warmth.

Marco paused on the other end, then the line went dead.

I clutched my phone, my knuckles turning white.

Night had fallen over the city.

I had to return to that house, retrieve my forged documents, and then disappear forever.

The year of "education" had taught me only one thing—how to turn away gracefully and never look back.

I walked all night, from the Augustine Academy for Young Women back to the Ricci estate. By the time I arrived, the sky was just beginning to lighten.

All night, my phone had remained silent.

I stood outside, and through the massive glass doors, I could hear the music and the clinking of glasses from within. I could even hear Isla's bright, tinkling laughter.

A servant opened the door, and the light from inside illuminated my uniform. The academy uniform had been washed so many times its color had faded to a dull gray.

Lorenzo turned and saw me, his brow furrowing. "You came back dressed like that? Who are you trying to guilt-trip this time?"

I lowered my head.

This was the only outfit I had.

He sized me up. "Look at this pathetic act. Are you putting it on to make us feel guilty?"

"I'm fine," I answered softly.

Those were the first three words I had learned at the academy. There, showing any emotion was a mistake.

My mother, Elena, seemed a little surprised by my obedient demeanor. "We were going to pick you up, Seraphina. It's just that Isla suddenly felt unwell, so—"

Marco cut her off. "That's right. We were delayed by an urgent matter."

"It's alright," I said quietly.

They all breathed a collective sigh of relief. My obedience was a balm to them, a return to the familiar hierarchy of command and compliance.

Lorenzo sneered, "It seems you finally learned some manners in there."

Elena looked pleased. "Now that you've corrected your bad habits, you're part of this family again. As long as you remain obedient, we can all start over."

I gave a faint smile. "Thank you, Mother."

The smile on her face froze.

Just then, Isla glided over, wearing an antique sapphire necklace.

It was supposed to be mine, the heirloom passed down to the heiress of the Ricci family.

She looked at me, her smile gentle and harmless. "I've already forgiven you, Seraphina. Let's just let bygones be bygones, okay?"

I stared at her, my mind reeling back a year. It was she who had orchestrated the whole thing. She’d lured me to a hotel, snapped photos of me in a "secret meeting" with a member of a rival family, and sent the "evidence" straight to Julian's desk. The Ricci family, desperate to prove their loyalty to the Valachis, needed a scapegoat. I became their traitor.

And just like that, I was sent to the Augustine Academy.

In that entire year, not a single one of them had come to see me.

Now, Isla stood before me, offering a hollow pardon.

I nodded calmly. "Okay."

She let out a relieved, satisfied smile, thinking I was the same girl as before, still seething over the betrayal.

But I only cared about one thing: retrieving my forged documents and leaving this place for good.

Elena joined in the laughter, Marco raised his glass, and Lorenzo refilled it for him. Julian sat beside Isla, whispering something that made her laugh softly.

I stood by the door, a ghost in my own home.

I had once tried so hard to belong to this family. Now, I finally understood that leaving was the only way to preserve what little dignity I had left.

Julian had been watching me from across the room, visibly pleased with my submissive performance.

"Seraphina, now that you're much more obedient," he began in a flat tone, "our wedding will be held the day after tomorrow."

He paused, glanced at Isla, then added, "Before that, you will publicly apologize to Isla."

His tone left no room for argument.

"If you can't do that," he said, his voice dropping, "I'll personally send you back to the academy."

Isla gently took my hand, a perfect, benevolent smile on her face. "It's alright, Seraphina. I'll accept your apology."

She played her part so perfectly, so graciously, as if she had rehearsed it a thousand times.

I stared at her.

A year ago, I had told them—screamed at them—that I had been framed. But no one had defended me.

Not even Julian. My fiancé, the man I grew up with, had been the first to use that "evidence" to condemn me.

That fabricated proof of "treason" had stripped me of my identity as the Ricci family heiress, allowing Isla to take my place.

Then, he personally sent me to the Augustine Academy.

The academy specialized in "reforming" those who brought shame to the Valachi family.

There was no room for defiance or explanations. One only had to learn silence.

And that, I had finally learned.

I took a deep breath and walked toward Isla.

Then, I slowly bowed, kissed the back of her hand, and said softly, "Isla, I'm sorry."

The room fell silent.

They hadn't expected me to swallow my pride. The me from a year ago never would have.

Isla was stunned for a moment before a small, triumphant laugh escaped her. "It's alright. I forgive you."

Her smile was flawless.

Elena's eyes grew misty. "You're such a good child, Isla."

Lorenzo snorted. "What are you still standing there for? Thank Isla."

Isla gently embraced me. "Don't say that. We're family, aren't we?"

"Thank you," I said, my lips forming an obedient smile.

They thought it was gratitude.

In reality, it was a farewell.

"Since you have repented, you are still a member of the Ricci family," my father announced. "We will announce at the wedding that the 'treason' accusation was a misunderstanding and restore your status as heiress."

"Thank you, Father," I replied, my voice a monotone of obedience.

They thought I was looking forward to the wedding, to the restoration of my status.

They had no idea I was only looking forward to my freedom.