The suitcase hit the marble floor with a cruel thud, scattering my few belongings across the funeral parlor's polished surface. Elena's lips twisted into a satisfied smirk as she looked down at me.

There," she spat, her voice dripping with venom. "Everything you own. Which isn't much, considering you're nothing but a parasite.

I stared at the scattered clothes, my mind still foggy from the funeral. "What... what is this? Why are you—"

Throwing you out?" Dante's uncle Marco stepped forward, his face twisted with disgust. "Because you're a curse, girl. A walking plague.

You killed him," Elena hissed, pointing an accusing finger at me. "Our Dante was fine until you came along with your bad luck. You ate your husband alive with your evil omega energy.

My heart pounded against my ribs. This couldn't be happening. Not now, not when I was finally free. "That's not true. I didn't—"

Silence!" Marco's voice boomed through the parlor. "We don't want to hear your lies. You've brought nothing but misfortune to this family.

But the house—" I started, desperation creeping into my voice. "Where am I supposed to go?

Anywhere but here," Elena sneered. "The streets, for all we care. You're not family, you never were. You were just something Dante bought, and now that he's dead, we don't owe you anything.

My legs felt weak as the reality hit me. They were really doing this. After two years of hell, they were casting me out with nothing.

Please," I whispered, hating how small my voice sounded. "I have nowhere to go.

Should have thought of that before you cursed our boy," Marco growled. He grabbed my arm roughly, his fingers digging into my skin. "Come on. Time to go.

No, wait—" I struggled against his grip, but he was too strong. "My things—

Already packed," Elena said coldly. "Everything you deserve.

They dragged me toward the door, my feet barely touching the ground. The other funeral guests watched in stunned silence, some whispering behind their hands. The humiliation burned hotter than any physical pain Dante had ever inflicted.

Please," I tried one more time as Marco shoved me toward the exit. "I'll work. I'll pay rent. Just don't—

Out!" Elena screamed, her face red with rage. "Get out and never come back, you cursed witch!

The heavy doors slammed shut behind me, leaving me standing on the stone steps with my single suitcase. The cool evening air hit my face, mixing with the tears I couldn't hold back anymore.

I stood there for what felt like hours, my mind blank with shock. Where could I go? What could I do? For two years, I'd been trapped in Dante's world, isolated from everyone and everything I'd once known.

Mother. The thought hit me like lightning. My mother—she might still be alive. Dante had used her as leverage to keep me in line, but he'd never told me where she was or what had happened to her after I was taken.

I picked up my suitcase and started walking, my feet carrying me toward the old neighborhood where we used to live. The streets looked different now, more run-down than I remembered. Many of the old shops were boarded up, and unfamiliar faces peered at me from doorways.

Excuse me," I approached an elderly man sitting on a bench. "Do you know what happened to Maria Russo? She used to live on Elm Street?

He looked at me suspiciously. "Who's asking?"

I'm her daughter," I said quietly. "Carlotta.

His expression softened. "Ah, little Carlotta. Your mama, she moved away about a year ago. Got herself a job as a maid for some rich family. Blackwood, I think the name was."

My heart leaped. She was alive. She was working. "Do you know where?"

Blackwood Mansion, up on the hill district. But she don't live there," he added quickly. "Got herself a little apartment near the market. Building with the blue door, apartment 3B.

I thanked him and hurried toward the market district, my suitcase bumping against my legs with every step. The apartment building was small and shabby, but it looked clean. I climbed the narrow stairs, my heart pounding as I reached apartment 3B.

I knocked softly, barely breathing as I waited.

The door opened, and there she was. My mother, looking older and thinner than I remembered, her dark hair streaked with gray. Her eyes widened when she saw me.

Carlotta?" she whispered, as if she couldn't believe it.

Mama," I choked out, and then I was in her arms, sobbing against her shoulder like a little girl again.

Oh, my baby, my sweet baby," she cried, holding me tight. "I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry I couldn't save you. I should have found a way, should have protected you—

It's okay, Mama," I said, though my voice was muffled against her shoulder. "It's not your fault. It was just... bad luck.

She pulled me inside and shut the door, her hands trembling as she touched my face. "When I heard about Dante's accident, I wanted to come to you, but I didn't know if they would let me see you. I didn't know if you'd want to see me after... after I failed you."

Don't say that," I whispered. "You didn't fail me. Papa made his choice. You couldn't have stopped him.

She led me to a small couch in the tiny living room. The apartment was barely bigger than a closet, but it was clean and warm, and it smelled like the lavender soap she'd always used.

Tell me what happened," she said gently. "At the funeral, I mean. Why are you here with a suitcase?

I told her about Elena and Marco, about being thrown out and called a curse. Her face grew darker with each word.

Those animals," she spat when I finished. "After everything you suffered, they dare to blame you for his death?

They think I'm bad luck," I said with a bitter laugh. "Maybe they're right.

Don't you dare say that," Mama said firmly, gripping my hands. "You survived two years of hell. You're the strongest person I know, Carlotta. Don't let their poison make you think otherwise.

I looked around the small apartment, trying to process this new reality. "So you work for the Blackwoods?"

She nodded. "As a maid. It's honest work, and they pay fairly. Mrs. Blackwood is a kind woman, nothing like the families we used to know."

That's good, Mama. I'm glad you found something stable.

We sat in comfortable silence for a moment before she spoke again. "What will you do now? You need to think about being independent, especially after what happened with Dante's family. You can't rely on anyone else to take care of you."

I felt a flutter of panic in my chest. "I know, but... I don't know how. For two years, all I did was... was be his wife. I cooked his meals, cleaned his house, attended his parties. I don't know how to do anything else."

You're smart," Mama said gently. "You can learn. You have to learn, because the world isn't kind to women who can't take care of themselves.

But what kind of work could I do?" I asked, frustration creeping into my voice. "I have no skills, no education beyond what I had at sixteen. Who would hire me?

We'll figure it out together," she promised. "Maybe Mrs. Blackwood needs another maid. Or maybe there's something else you could do. You were always good with numbers when you were little.

I wanted to believe her, but the fear was overwhelming. For two years, every decision had been made for me. Every meal, every dress, every moment of my day had been controlled by Dante. Now I was supposed to just... figure it out on my own?

I'm scared, Mama," I admitted quietly.

I know, baby," she said, pulling me close again. "But you're free now. For the first time since you were sixteen, you get to choose what happens next. That's terrifying, but it's also a gift.

I closed my eyes, trying to imagine a future where I made my own choices. It seemed impossible, like trying to picture a color that didn't exist.

Can I stay here tonight?" I asked. "Just until I figure out what to do?

Of course," she said immediately. "This is your home now, for as long as you need it.

As I settled onto her small couch that night, listening to the unfamiliar sounds of the city outside, I tried to feel hopeful about tomorrow. But all I could think about was how small and lost I felt, like a child playing dress-up in an adult's world.

Tomorrow, I told myself. Tomorrow I'll figure out how to be independent. How to be strong.

The morning sunlight filtered through the small window as I heard Mama moving around the tiny kitchen. The smell of coffee filled the air, and for a moment, I could pretend I was still a child waking up in our old house.

Good morning, baby," Mama called softly as I sat up on the couch, rubbing my eyes.

Morning, Mama," I mumbled, trying to smooth down my messy hair.

She appeared in the doorway, already dressed for work in her simple black uniform. "I have to leave for the Blackwood mansion soon, but I've been thinking about you all night."

About what?" I asked, stretching my stiff muscles.

About your future," she said, sitting down beside me on the couch. "I'm going to bring us some food from the kitchen today - Mrs. Blackwood doesn't mind when I take leftovers home.

That's kind of her," I said quietly.

Mama reached over and took my hands. "Carlotta, I need you to listen to me carefully. You're only eighteen years old. Eighteen! You shouldn't be living your life like some old widow, mourning what's past."

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

I mean you need to go back to school," she said firmly. "You need to live like the teenager you still are, not waste your youth dwelling on those horrible two years.

School?" I shook my head immediately. "Mama, I can't. I'm too old, I've missed too much, and besides—

Besides nothing," she interrupted. "There's a college just fifteen minutes from here. Community college. You can register and start immediately since the semester is still new.

But I don't have the money for—

We'll figure out the money," Mama said stubbornly. "What you can't figure out is how to get back the years you've lost if you don't start now.

I pulled my hands away from hers, frustration building in my chest. "You don't understand. I'm not that girl anymore. I can't just pretend the last two years didn't happen and go sit in classrooms with kids who've never—"

Who've never what? Suffered? Grown up too fast?" Mama's voice was gentle but firm. "Baby, that's exactly why you need to go back. You need to remember who you were before Dante stole that from you.

I barely remember who I was," I whispered, tears threatening to spill.

Then this is how you find out," she said, cupping my face in her hands. "You go to school, you meet people your own age, you learn something new. You become Carlotta again, not just Dante's widow.

I wanted to argue more, but something in her eyes stopped me. She looked so hopeful, so determined to see me heal.

What if I can't keep up?" I asked quietly.

Then you'll try harder," Mama said with a small smile. "What if you can? What if you're brilliant at it? What if you find something you love?

The possibility felt foreign and terrifying. "I don't know, Mama..."

Promise me you'll at least go look at the college today," she said. "Just look. That's all I'm asking.

I sighed, knowing I couldn't refuse her after everything she'd been through. "Okay. I'll look."

She beamed and kissed my forehead. "That's my girl. I have to go now, but think about it, okay? You deserve a real life, Carlotta. Don't let Dante steal that from you even in death."

After she left, I sat in the quiet apartment, her words echoing in my head. You deserve a real life. Did I? It felt strange to even consider it.

I went to the small dresser where I'd unpacked my few belongings and pulled out a rolled-up sock from the bottom. Inside was the money I'd managed to save over the past two years - small amounts I'd hidden whenever Dante gave me money for household expenses. It wasn't much, but it was something.

Just go look, I told myself. That's all.

But first, I found myself walking in a different direction entirely. My feet carried me toward the old part of town, to the garage where Papa used to work before he died. I don't know why I needed to see it, but something pulled me there.

The garage looked smaller than I remembered, shabbier. The sign was faded, and weeds grew through cracks in the concrete. But through the open bay doors, I could see the motorcycles lined up inside, chrome gleaming under the fluorescent lights.

I stood there for a long moment, remembering afternoons when I was little, begging Papa to let me come with him to work. He'd always refused.

The kitchen is the best place for a girl child," he'd said sternly. "Not the racetrack, not the garage. Girls belong in the house.

But I'd loved watching him work anyway, sneaking peeks when I brought him lunch. The way his hands moved over the engines, confident and sure. The smell of oil and metal. The roar of the bikes when they came to life.

A proper lady doesn't get her hands dirty," he'd scolded when he caught me touching one of the bikes. "What will people think?

But what if I don't care what people think anymore? The thought surprised me with its clarity. What if I stopped trying to be what everyone else expected me to be?

I shook my head and turned away from the garage. I was being ridiculous. I had to focus on practical things, like education and finding a job.

The college was exactly where Mama had said it would be, a cluster of low brick buildings surrounded by trees that were just starting to turn colors. Students walked between buildings with backpacks and books, talking and laughing. They all looked so young, so carefree.

I used to be like that, I realized. Before everything happened.

The administrative building was easy to find, with clear signs pointing the way. I took a deep breath and walked through the glass doors, my heart pounding.

The registrar's office was down a long hallway lined with bulletin boards covered in announcements and flyers. I read them as I walked: study abroad programs, club meetings, part-time job postings. It all seemed like a foreign world.

Can I help you?" asked a middle-aged woman behind the counter when I approached.

Yes, I... I'd like to register for classes," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

Of course, dear. Let me get you the paperwork." She pulled out a thick packet of forms. "What's your name?

Carlotta Russo," I said automatically, then hesitated. "Well, it was Carlotta Alessi, but now it's... it's back to Russo.

The woman's pen stopped moving. Her eyes flicked up to meet mine, and I saw a flash of recognition there. She knew the name Alessi. Everyone in this city knew about Dante and his family.

She knows, I thought, my cheeks burning with shame. She knows what I was.

But the registrar just gave me a professional smile and continued writing. "Russo it is, then. And what program are you interested in?"

I... I'm not sure yet," I admitted. "I haven't been in school for a while.

That's perfectly fine," she said kindly. "Many of our students are returning after some time away. We have excellent counselors who can help you figure out what you'd like to study.

She handed me the packet of forms. "Fill these out and bring them back with your high school transcripts and the registration fee. Classes start fresh every few weeks, so you could begin as early as next Monday if everything's in order."

Next Monday?" I repeated, suddenly feeling panicked. "That's so soon.

It's never too soon to start building your future," she said with an encouraging smile. "Take your time with the paperwork, though. No need to rush.

I thanked her and walked back outside, clutching the packet of forms to my chest. Students were still moving around campus, and I watched them with a mixture of longing and fear.

Could I really do this? Could I really just... start over?

The thought was terrifying and exhilarating at the same time. For the first time in years, I had a choice to make. Not about what to cook for dinner or which dress to wear, but about my entire future.

Maybe Mama's right, I thought as I walked home. Maybe I do deserve a real life.

I looked down at the forms in my hands. At eighteen, I could still catch up, still become someone new. Someone who wasn't defined by what had happened to me.

Carlotta Russo, I whispered to myself. Not Alessi. Not anyone's property. Just... me.

I adjusted my backpack straps for the tenth time as I walked into the classroom, my palms sweating despite the cool morning air. The room was already half full of students chatting and laughing, their voices creating a buzz that made my head spin.

Just find a seat and keep your head down, I told myself, scanning the rows of desks.

That's when I spotted them. Three girls sitting in the back corner, perfectly styled hair catching the fluorescent light, designer bags placed strategically on their desks like territorial markers. Even from across the room, I could feel their eyes on me, sizing me up like predators watching prey.

I quickly chose a seat in the middle of the room, hoping to blend into the crowd of other students. But as I pulled out my notebook, I heard the unmistakable sound of chairs scraping against the floor behind me.

Well, well, what do we have here?" The voice was saccharine sweet with an edge that made my skin crawl.

I turned around to see the three girls approaching, led by a blonde with perfectly applied makeup and cold blue eyes. The other two flanked her like bodyguards - a redhead with a smirk that never left her face, and a brunette who looked like she'd rather be anywhere else but was too scared to leave.

I'm sorry?" I said quietly, hoping they'd lose interest and move on.

Oh, she's polite," the redhead said with mock delight. "How refreshing.

The blonde leaned against the desk next to mine, her perfectly manicured nails tapping against the surface. "I'm Madison. These are my friends, Harper and Jess. And you are?"

Carlotta," I answered, turning back toward the front of the classroom.

Carlotta," Madison repeated, drawing out each syllable like she was tasting something unpleasant. "That's... unusual. Foreign, isn't it?

It's Italian," I said simply, keeping my voice level.

How exotic," Harper chimed in, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Let me guess - your family runs a little pizza shop somewhere?

A few students nearby turned to look at us, some smiling at Harper's comment. My cheeks burned with embarrassment, but I forced myself to stay calm.

No," I said quietly. "They don't.

Ooh, touchy subject," Madison cooed. "What's wrong, princess? Not proud of your heritage?

Don't engage, I told myself. Just ignore them and they'll get bored.

But they didn't get bored. Instead, Madison moved closer, her voice dropping to a whisper that only I could hear.

You know, we've heard some interesting things about you, Carlotta. About your... previous living arrangements.

My blood ran cold. They knew. Somehow, they knew about Dante.

I don't know what you're talking about," I said, my voice barely audible.

Sure you don't," Harper said with a cruel laugh. "Come on, girls. Let's help our new friend feel more... welcome.

Before I could react, Madison grabbed my arm and pulled me roughly to my feet. The brunette, Jess, moved to block my path while Harper took my other arm.

Let me go," I said firmly, but my voice shook despite my efforts to stay calm.

Let me go," Harper mimicked in a high-pitched whine, causing Madison to burst into laughter.

Please," I said, looking around the classroom desperately. "Just leave me alone.

Other students were watching now, some with amused expressions, others looking uncomfortable but unwilling to intervene. The familiar feeling of helplessness washed over me, the same sensation I'd felt so many times in Dante's house when no one would help me.

Aww, look at her," Madison said loudly enough for half the class to hear. "She thinks someone's going to come to her rescue.

Nobody's coming, sweetheart," Harper added with mock sympathy. "You're at the bottom of the food chain here, just like everywhere else.

The bottom of the chain. The words hit me like a physical blow. I'd forgotten what it felt like to be powerless, to be at the mercy of people who enjoyed causing pain. For two years with Dante, I'd been trapped, but at least I'd known my place. Here, I was starting over, and they were already trying to put me back where they thought I belonged.

Please," I whispered again, hating how weak I sounded. "I just want to go to class.

And we're just trying to be friendly," Madison said, tightening her grip on my arm. "Isn't that right, girls?

Super friendly," Harper agreed, her nails digging into my other arm.

Jess shifted uncomfortably but didn't let go. "Maybe we should—"

Should what?" Madison snapped at her. "Sit down and mind your own business?

The classroom had gone quieter now, with most conversations dying down as students sensed the tension. I could feel dozens of eyes on us, but no one moved to help. Some even had their phones out, probably hoping to catch something worth posting online.

This is my life now, I thought desperately. Even here, even trying to start fresh, I'm still just someone to be pushed around.

You know what I think, Carlotta?" Madison leaned closer, her breath hot against my ear. "I think you're used to this kind of treatment. I think you actually like being told what to do.

My hands clenched into fists at my sides, my whole body trembling with a mixture of fear and rage. Every instinct screamed at me to fight back, to show them that I wasn't as weak as they thought. But what was the point? Fighting would just make things worse, just like it always had.

Nothing to say?" Harper taunted. "Cat got your tongue?

Maybe she's just trying to figure out which one of us she wants to be friends with first," Madison added with a cruel smile.

I bet she'll do our homework if we ask nicely," Harper suggested, and both she and Madison burst into laughter.

Just then, the classroom door opened with a sharp bang that made everyone jump. A tall man in a rumpled suit walked in, carrying a briefcase and a stack of papers that looked like they might topple over at any moment.

Good morning, everyone," the professor called out, his voice carrying easily across the room. "Please take your seats. We have a lot to cover today.

Madison immediately released my arm, her sweet smile snapping back into place like she'd flipped a switch. "See you around, Carlotta," she whispered, but there was nothing friendly about her tone.

Harper gave my arm one final squeeze that would definitely leave a bruise. "This isn't over, new girl."

We'll be keeping an eye on you," Jess added quietly, almost apologetically, before following the other two back to their corner.

I sank into my seat, my legs shaky with relief and leftover adrenaline. The professor was already writing equations on the whiteboard, completely oblivious to what had just happened.

I said take your seats, ladies," he called toward the back without turning around.

Sorry, Professor Williams," Madison called back sweetly. "We were just helping the new student find her way around.

My stomach churned at the lie, but I didn't dare contradict her. Instead, I opened my notebook with trembling hands and tried to focus on the lesson, even though the words on the board blurred together through my unshed tears.

One day down, I told myself. Just get through one day at a time.