Sky

At six in the evening, I sat by the bedroom window overlooking the front yard. Felix’s car pulled into the driveway—he stepped out with Sofia by his side, and Jayden asleep in his arms like a child who felt safe in the embrace of betrayal.

Sofia’s arms were full of paper bags from luxury brands. Brands I used to buy with my own money, but ever since the wedding, I hadn’t worn any of them.

Felix didn’t like me wearing expensive things. Now I knew he simply didn’t want me spending money he had reserved for Sofia.

I didn’t go down to welcome them. Even when Felix entered the room, I remained silent.

“It’s already six. Shouldn’t you have dinner ready by now?” he asked flatly.

I glanced at him briefly. “My legs hurt. Can you just order food for tonight?”

Felix let out a bitter laugh—a laugh that hurt more than his words. “Are you serious? Your legs are numb, Sky. You’re just lying to get out of your responsibilities.”

My hands clenched. In the past, whenever I complained, he’d soothe me with gentle words like, “Everything’s going to be okay.” Now, all I heard were sharp, cruel accusations.

Still, I went downstairs. I cooked. Not because I cared—but because I needed to survive. The kitchen was mine—the only space I still controlled. But lately, Felix preferred Sofia’s cooking, using the excuse that he didn’t want me getting too tired.

An hour later, dinner was nearly ready. I went upstairs to call Felix, passing by Sofia’s room—and that’s when I heard it.

Moans. Shallow breaths.

I froze. My hands tightened on the armrest of my wheelchair. The door was slightly ajar. Through the crack, I saw Sofia sitting on Felix’s lap, his hands trailing along her thigh.

I couldn’t bear to watch any more. They had already confessed everything. I wanted to leave.

But Sofia’s voice stopped me.

“Felix, I can’t take this anymore. When are you going to let Sky go?”

“Be patient, sweetheart,” Felix replied. “I haven’t broken her enough yet. The more she sees us together, the more hopeless she becomes. Once she’s completely crushed, I won’t owe her anything. Not even the slightest bit of affection.”

I stood frozen.

So… the reason he married me wasn’t love. It was to make me suffer. Slowly, methodically.

And I didn’t even know why.

We barely knew each other before marriage. All I knew was that he was one of my fans. That was it.

“You’re right,” Sofia chimed in. “If that cripple loses all hope, she’ll take her own life. You won’t even have to dirty your hands, Felix.”

No more words followed.

Only the revolting sounds of kisses echoing in the room—like the sick rhythm of betrayal.

I rolled my wheelchair away, down to the dining room. I ate alone.

An hour later, they finally came downstairs. Jayden clung to Felix’s arms, glaring at me—as if to say I didn’t deserve to have “his father.”

“I told you to call us when dinner was ready. And you had the audacity to eat alone?” Felix snapped.

I looked at him briefly. “I was hungry.”

Felix opened his mouth, but Sofia spoke first.

“Sorry for making you wait, Sky. Jayden was fussy, and for some reason, only Felix could calm him down. I hope you’re not misunderstanding again.”

I said nothing. I kept eating like no one was sitting across from me.

That made Felix furious.

He grabbed my plate and smashed it to the floor—shards scattering everywhere.

“Sofia is talking! Is this how you show respect?!”

I closed my eyes, trying to keep myself from breaking down. But Felix wasn’t done.

“I’m tired,” I said and wheeled myself away.

But Jayden suddenly leapt from Felix’s arms, ran toward me, and shoved my wheelchair. I fell, my hand landing on a sharp shard of the broken plate—blood starting to drip.

“You think just because you’re the lady of the house you can do whatever you want? Just remember, there’s no such thing as a crippled queen. You never deserved that title!”

Felix and Sofia didn’t react. They just watched… and then walked out of the house, leaving me behind again.

“You’re wrong, Jayden.” I clenched my fist around the glass shard. “I’m not crippled. And I will be a queen—the queen who will punish you all.”

I reached for the phone tucked in the pocket of my wheelchair, and dialed the only person I could still trust.

“I want the divorce papers as soon as possible. File it under the name Alessia “Sky” deLuca,” I said. “And sever all ties with the Moretti family.”

Sky

[The Emerald Grotto, 2nd floor, VIP number 5, 15 minutes left.]

My hands trembled as I read the message, clutching the phone tightly. This wasn’t just a meeting—this was a gateway to long-lost freedom. After years of locking myself away in a prison called marriage, I was finally reconnecting with the deLuca family—the blood and name I once buried for a love gone wrong.

Felix used to be someone I believed could protect me. Promised me a future. Gave me a sense of security. But all of it was an illusion, and the future he painted turned out to be a dark room with no exit. My only path now was to return to the one person I could truly trust. My family.

As soon as I hid my secret phone under the pillow, the door burst open. Felix walked in, and I held my breath, pretending to be busy at my easel. The brush in my hand moved as if I was immersed in the painting—but really, that canvas had long lost its meaning. Painting had always been my escape. I used to love it more than anything, before martial arts became mandatory because of family rules.

Ever since I married Felix, I could only paint when he wasn’t home. He was always too busy, too distant, too full of secrets. And I was too stupid to question any of it.

“Sofia and I are going to Finland the day after tomorrow,” he said, like it was a casual update. My hand froze, but I didn’t turn to face him. Not this time.

“Jayden wants to see the Northern Lights. Sofia wanted to invite you, but—”

“Go,” I cut him off, returning to ruin the already ruined canvas.

Felix took a deep breath and said, “I don’t want you to misunderstand and hurt Sofia again. She meant well. But you’ve never been allowed to travel far.”

The same excuse. Back then, I might have believed it. But now I knew it was all manipulation. They blamed it on weak mental health, trauma, and emotional instability. All crafted lies to keep me feeling unworthy of leaving the house. Unworthy of healing. Unworthy of fighting back.

“Sofia and I are going shopping with Jayden. Don’t worry, I’ll buy you that branded bag you like,” he added.

His rough hand landed on my head, like a father patting a child. Just briefly, then he left. No hug. No warmth.

The brush in my hand snapped.

Enough. I wouldn’t fall for the manipulation again. It was all a distraction—a tactic to keep my mood in check so I wouldn’t lash out at Sofia, the drama queen who always managed to steal sympathy.

After making sure Felix’s car had left the house, I got ready. Coat on, important documents tucked safely into my bag. It was time to meet the one person I could still trust.

The bar on the edge of town looked quiet from the outside, but The Emerald Grotto held more secrets than my entire marriage. VIP room number 5. Second floor.

Dante deLuca was already there, lounging with his usual calm, a cup of untouched coffee before him.

“Long time no see, Ally. You look like hell,” he said with that signature smirk.

Dante. My father's right-hand man. A brother and protector during my overseas tour to win taekwondo matches-which was really just a mask to carry out missions in the countries we visited.

He was also the witness to my meeting with Felix. When Felix was cornered by some thugs and I helped him. Unexpectedly, he returned the favor when I got into a car accident.

It all sounded like a plan. But I didn't know what the reason was.

I sat down wordlessly and handed over the folder I had prepared.

“Investigate these hospitals,” I said briefly.

Dante opened the folder, glanced at the contents, and raised an eyebrow. “The dumb deLuca finally woke up.”

I didn’t argue. I had been stupid. If I hadn’t drowned in despair, I could’ve looked for answers much sooner. But I let Felix keep me sedated with sweet nothings, convincing me to live in suffering.

“Here’s your divorce file,” Dante said, handing me another folder. “Flight’s in two days. Mrs. Moretti—or should I say, Miss deLuca.”

He smirked, stood, and walked away without another word. Typical Dante—disappearing as suddenly as he appeared.

I stared down at the divorce papers in my hand. Two more days. Just two.

I only had to hold on a little longer. And when it’s over—I’ll rise again. Not as a discarded wife. Not as a pitiful crippled woman. But as Alessia deLuca.

And that name—will become hell for everyone who betrayed me.

Sky

Two days later, Felix and Sofia were chatting and sipping wine in the front yard, ignoring me completely while barking orders for me to pack their things for the trip to Finland.

The excuse was still the same—that I had to serve Sofia well, even though the scar on her face had almost disappeared. Felix had taken her for expensive treatments, more diligently than he ever tried to find a cure for my legs.

I finished packing their suitcases—a task I didn’t actually put much effort into. Even when Felix warned me not to forget a single item, I didn’t care.

“Don’t forget Sofia’s favorite scarf, and Jayden’s fur coat. The weather will be freezing. I won’t hesitate to punish you if you miss anything.”

Instead, I packed my own suitcase. Important documents and personal items—I wasn’t going to leave any of them behind. Even assets Felix believed would forever be his—I had secured the papers.

Felix was so confident I would never leave that he didn’t even bother transferring the asset names under his.

Once everything was ready, I placed the divorce papers inside Felix’s suitcase. Along with a few memories: our modest wedding album—half of which I had already burned—and the velvet box containing our wedding rings.

Jayden’s suitcase, I deliberately left empty. They wouldn’t notice. Too busy to even touch the luggage they had assigned to me.

At 1 PM, everything was ready. We headed to the airport. They walked ahead, leaving me to struggle with three heavy suitcases alone.

Before the plane took off, I excused myself to go to the restroom. They didn’t care. My job was done.

I headed to the car parked in front of the airport. Dante arrived with my suitcase—just as I had instructed him to retrieve it from the house after we left.

“Ready?” he asked. I nodded.

Dante had arranged everything. A female aide helped me change clothes, disguising me from Felix and Sofia’s view. They didn’t even notice when I passed right by them.

They were too busy with Jayden. A picture-perfect family. If this role was what Sofia wanted so badly, then I’d hand it over willingly.

But one thing’s for sure—they had no future living happily beneath the shadow of my revenge.

Just as I was about to board the deLuca family’s private jet, my phone rang. The screen flashed the name I had expected: Felix Moretti.

I stared at the screen for a moment. It was ironic—this man who had shared years with me never even sensed the perfectly crafted escape I had set in motion.

Keeping my breath steady, I answered.

“What the hell is this, Sky?! You packed Sofia’s suitcase all wrong! And where the hell is her scarf? Bring it here—now!” His tone was sharp, barking like I was nothing but his servant. No concern. No question as to why I hadn’t returned. Just demands.

I bit back a bitter smile.

“I put it in your suitcase,” I said curtly.

Silence. Then the frantic sound of a zipper and rustling papers. Seconds later—

“Fuck! What the hell is this?!” His voice broke, almost choked.

I could imagine his face now—panic, rage, disbelief. He must’ve found the divorce papers and the velvet box holding the remnants of our so-called marriage.

“Felix Moretti,” I said softly but firmly, “go ahead and sign those papers. I am no longer your wife… not stupid little Sky. I am Alessia deLuca. See you again—” and welcome your downfall.

“What the hell do you mean—”

I hung up. I didn’t need to hear him anymore. His voice was nothing but background noise in the new life I was stepping into.

The phone he once gave me—something I used to cherish like a treasure—I threw into a trash bin near the runway. Instantly, the weight on my chest felt lighter.

Dante stepped forward, silent. His gaze was sharp yet warm. He bent down, and in one fluid motion—so effortless for someone with his strength—lifted me from my wheelchair.

That touch—warm, steady, protective. I could feel my heart pound, not from fear… but from the realization that for the first time in a long while, I felt safe.

I looked away, my face heating up. A strange fluttering climbed up inside me, tightening and waking parts of myself I thought long dead.

He carried me into the jet. The private room in the back, once my father’s sanctuary, looked like a painting of memory. A blend of luxury and dignity. The scent of leather and aged wood hung in the air, dragging me back to the days when I was still Alessia deLuca—the feared heiress.

Dante gently set me down on the black leather sofa. He leaned against the cabin wall, giving me that annoying, crooked smile of his.

“Looks like our little lady’s all grown up,” he teased with a soft chuckle. “You took down a man without even pulling a trigger.”

I rolled my eyes, though my heart was still racing.

“Felix wasn’t a hard target. He fell before I even aimed.”

Dante chuckled. “Ah, that’s the deLuca blood. No gun needed to shake the world.”

We fell silent. I looked out the window, watching the clouds thin as the jet moved farther from the land that had held all my pain.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked, this time more seriously. “About the treatment?”

I nodded. “I don’t want to die trapped in a wheelchair. And not because I hate being paralyzed—but because I hate the reason behind it. Felix’s lies. The limits he set to keep me weak.”

Dante nodded, as if understanding even the words I hadn’t said.

“Remember your father’s old colleague in Switzerland? Dr. Veyner.” His voice was calm, laced with hope. “He’s not just the best neurosurgeon. He’s your father’s closest friend. If there’s anyone in this world who can help you walk again—it’s him.”

I stayed silent, the name echoing in my memory. Father had mentioned him once. Long ago, before everything fell apart.

“If he’s willing to help—then this is my first step toward rising again.”

Dante gave a small smile and handed me a glass of juice. “To the queen reclaiming her throne,” he said.

I took the glass and nodded slowly.

My time had come. Alessia deLuca had returned. Not to beg for love—but to make those who hurt me pay for every scar they thought I’d suffer in silence.