Chapter 4

Dante recovered fast.

The day he got discharged, the Carusos threw a family dinner. Officially to celebrate him surviving.

Unofficially, it was a message:

The heir is fine. Caruso is still Caruso.

The second Elena stepped into the old mansion’s entryway, Donna Valeria Caruso’s eyes cut into her—ice sharp.

And she didn’t even bother to lower her voice in front of the whole family.

“Hah. A woman who can’t even give a man a child still has the nerve to show up.”

Elena stopped.

Dante’s brows pulled together. He opened his mouth—

Donna shot him one look and shut him down.

“Don’t you start defending her again. Today’s about your discharge. I’m not wasting my time arguing with her.”

Then she turned away and went to entertain the relatives, leaving Elena standing there on purpose—like a decoration nobody wanted.

Dante looked at Elena, voice low. “Elena, you—”

“It’s fine,” Elena said, smiling like it didn’t hit. “After all these years? I’m used to it.”

The calmer she was, the harder it slapped.

“Mom is seriously bullying you again, sis!”

Bianca came down the stairs right then.

Dressed like a princess. Pale in that perfect, “make people protective” way.

She hurried over, hooked her arm through Elena’s, voice sweet.

“Bro, go help Mom with the guests. I’ll take Elena to the balcony for air so she doesn’t feel uncomfortable.”

Dante glanced at Elena. She didn’t react. He nodded.

“…Okay.”

Bianca basically dragged Elena out to the balcony.

The night wind was cold. Expensive plants everywhere. Like this family owned the air.

Bianca played with a leaf on the railing, like she was just chatting.

“Sis… does having a baby hurt?”

She blinked, then covered her mouth like she “just remembered.”

“Oh—right. I shouldn’t ask you. You and my brother… for years… you probably wouldn’t know.”

Elena’s fingers went stiff. She said nothing.

Bianca kept going, smiling.

“Lately I think babies are sooo cute. I kinda want one.”

Her voice was sugary—sweet and sharp at the same time.

“If it looks like my brother, it’ll be perfect. Smart. Strong.”

She paused, eyes bright.

“Oh! And if I have one, what about the name ‘Noah’?”

Every word was a slap.

Elena didn’t want to play this game. She turned to leave.

“Your kid. Your choice.”

“Are you mad?” Bianca immediately stepped in front of her, eyes going red on command. “I didn’t mean to say anything to upset you…”

Elena sidestepped her and kept walking.

Then—

crash.

A flowerpot shattered behind her.

Elena turned.

Bianca was crouched on the floor, a small cut on her finger, blood showing, tears pouring like she’d been hurt by the world.

People rushed out from the living room.

The first one to reach her—

of course—

was Dante.

He nearly lunged, dropped down, pulled Bianca into his arms, voice tight with panic.

“Bianca! What happened? Are you hurt?”

Bianca looked up, tears hanging in her lashes, eyes drifting toward Elena.

“I’m sorry, sis… I just wanted to tell you—Mom didn’t mean that earlier… don’t be mad…”

“I wanted to apologize for her…”

“I didn’t think it would make you this unhappy…”

One sentence, and every pair of eyes locked on Elena.

Like she was the problem.

Like Bianca was the sweet, thoughtful sister.

Relatives whispered. Judged. Ate it up.

Donna Valeria charged out, pointing at Elena like she’d been waiting for this.

“Even if I did mean it—so what?! Who the hell do you think you are, bullying my daughter?!”

“If Dante hadn’t insisted on marrying you back then, you think you’d even get through the Caruso door? You think you’d have the right to give Bianca an attitude?!”

Elena’s throat tightened. She tried to speak—

“Enough, Elena.”

Dante cut her off. Cold. Clean.

He held Bianca tighter like she was made of glass and Elena was a threat.

“You know Bianca’s health is bad. She can’t take stress,” he said, anger pressed down hard. “How could you treat her like this?”

“This time, you’re wrong.”

He looked at Elena, eyes like ice.

“And no—I’m not going to ‘spoil you’ like before.”

“Be good. Apologize to Bianca.”

Elena stood there, silent, staring at them.

Dante’s arm was wrapped around Bianca.

All his softness was still there—

he just wasn’t giving it to Elena anymore.

Elena looked around.

A whole room full of Carusos.

Their eyes felt like chains.

Like they were saying: you’re not one of us. You never will be.

She took a slow breath. Her voice shook a little, but every word landed.

“I didn’t do anything to her. And I’m not mad.”

“She broke the pot herself. That’s not on me.”

“You’re still talking back?!” Donna snapped. “Bianca would lie to frame you? Of course not. You’re just jealous and nasty!”

Relatives piled on—calling Elena petty, childish, not classy enough.

And the one person who should’ve believed her—

Dante—

didn’t say a single word for her.

Elena suddenly smiled.

At herself.

At how stupid six years could be.

She didn’t argue anymore. She turned and walked straight out.

The front door slammed.

Donna’s insults and the family’s laughter got shut out with it.

Dante didn’t come after her.

Before, if she got hurt even a little, he would’ve grabbed her and walked away with her—no matter who tried to stop him.

But this time—

he didn’t move.

Maybe he never would again.

The wind outside cut her face raw.

She opened her phone without thinking.

Top post on Bianca’s feed:

A big “happy family” photo.

Bianca leaned against Dante, arm wrapped tight around his like she belonged there—like she was the woman of the house.

Caption:

“We’ll always be family. Nobody can split us.”

Dante commented almost instantly:

“You’ll always be my little princess.”

Elena stared at the words.

Her eyes stung from the wind but not one tear fell.

Yeah.

They were family.

So the outsider should leave.

And never come back.