Chapter 3

In a corner of the café that morning, I met with my good friend Chloe Morgan. She wore a sharp black suit, her short blonde hair combed back without a strand out of place.

I slid my phone across the table, flipping through the photos one by one. "Evidence of Vincenzo's affair. And..." My voice faltered for a moment. "Records of him drugging me. Seven years. He wanted to make sure I couldn't have children so his illegitimate son could take my place."

A crack appeared in Chloe's usually composed face. She grabbed my wrist, her knuckles white. "Jesus, Gianna... seven years? He drugged you for seven years? Son of a bitch."

I told her slowly about seven years of deception. Her expression shifted from shock to cold fury.

"They're going to pay for this." Her voice was low. "We're taking back everything that belongs to you."

I looked at her, lowering my voice. "I saw some strange financial records in his study. Several payments with unclear destinations. Find out where they went. There might be more."

Chloe nodded. "Give me some time."

Her efficiency was remarkable. Less than a day later, the call came.

"The legal grounds for divorce are more than sufficient," she said over the phone. "But I dug up something bigger."

She paused for a few seconds. "Millions of dollars transferred from Vitale family accounts into a shell company. Every transaction labeled 'Sterling Clinic Development Fund.' Your parents... they knew, Gianna."

When we met again, Chloe placed a stack of photos on the table.

I reached for them with trembling hands. Photo after photo, each one a silent testament to betrayal.

Until I saw the one from a Christmas dinner. My parents—Carlo and Rosa Vitale—sat around a fireplace with Vincenzo, Camilla, and Liam. Everyone was smiling so happily.

My mother had her arm draped intimately around Camilla's shoulders. My father handed a gift to Liam with a tenderness in his eyes I had never received. On the table sat my mother's signature Italian Christmas bread—the holiday treat I'd looked forward to most as a child.

I remembered all those Christmases they'd missed, all those excuses about traffic. Tears streamed down my face in silence.

Seven years. Everyone I called family had woven this web of lies together. I knew now I had nothing left to lose.

I paid a small fortune to bribe the administrative director at Camilla's clinic and obtained a temporary position as a file clerk.

In the employee changing room, I put on a gray uniform, tucked my blonde hair under a brown wig, and hid most of my face behind black-framed glasses.

My target was clear: Camilla's private office.

The moment I pushed open the door, my eyes stung—every piece of décor reflected my mother's taste. The paintings on the walls were chosen by my father. They had lovingly arranged this space for her.

On the desk stood a silver picture frame. Camilla in a white gown, Vincenzo in a tailored suit, the two of them standing side by side at the altar of a Gothic cathedral. My parents, Vincenzo's parents—all of them present, smiling as if witnessing a real wedding.

So before he married me, he had already held a ceremony with her. And my parents were accomplices.

This discovery was another knife plunging into my heart.

I quickly scanned the room and carefully attached a miniature recorder to the underside of the desk.

Back in the empty house, Vincenzo was gone. I turned on the recording device, and clear voices came through the earphones.

"Everything must be arranged before the charity gala." Vincenzo's voice was terrifyingly calm. "The matter of Liam as heir can't be delayed any longer."

"Will Gianna object?" Camilla asked.

"No." Vincenzo's laugh carried contempt. "She's always so 'understanding.' Besides, her parents have already signed off. As long as the alliance between the two families holds, the entire Vitale family will support this decision."

"And what about her?"

"She continues being the godmother. A powerless ornament." Vincenzo said. "Her parents made their choice. My position as godfather, the wealth and influence it brings—those are worth far more to them than her happiness."

I removed the earphones, my hands shaking uncontrollably. It wasn't just Vincenzo. My own parents were part of this conspiracy. In their eyes, I was nothing but a pawn to maintain the alliance—an acceptable sacrifice.

My hands weren't shaking from grief. It was rage. The kind that burns everything to ash.

The next day at the clinic, while organizing financial documents, I discovered more irregularities: purchase orders for medical equipment with absurdly inflated prices, portions of funds flowing to untraceable offshore accounts.

This wasn't just emotional betrayal. It was a massive scheme involving money, power, and inheritance.

Just as I photographed the last receipt, the office door suddenly opened.

Camilla stood in the doorway, her gaze locked onto me with sharp scrutiny. She'd sensed something wrong—no matter how good my disguise, I couldn't hide the tension lingering in the air.

"What are you doing here?" Her voice was cold. "Take off your mask."