Chapter 4

My heart began to race, each beat slamming against my ribs. My mind scrambled for an escape.

At that moment, the administrative director rushed in, anxiety written all over his face. "Dr. Sterling! I'm so sorry! This is the new file clerk. She's had a cold the past few days—I told her to wear the mask so she wouldn't infect you."

He gripped my arm tightly, half-pushing me toward the back door. "I apologize. We'll arrange for someone else to organize your office."

After slipping out the clinic's back entrance, feeling my heartbeat gradually steady, I sent a message to Chloe: "Got everything."

Her reply came quickly: "Received. Be careful."

I stood on the street corner, gazing at the sign for Sterling Psychology & Wellness Center. This fortress built on lies would soon crumble before the truth.

And I would be the one to press the detonator.

……

Before the final confrontation, I met with Chloe one last time to confirm everything.

Chloe placed the thick file folder on the coffee table between us.

"It's all in here." Her voice was barely above a whisper. "Prepare yourself."

I unwound the string binding and pulled out the documents. The first was a set of three independent medical laboratory reports. The conclusion was printed in bold: "Confirmed: formula components can cause permanent, irreversible damage to reproductive function."

Chloe remained silent, waiting for me to continue.

The second was a money trail analysis. Color-coded charts showed how funds flowed from the Rossi Foundation through shell companies, ultimately landing in Camilla Sterling's accounts. The most recent transfer was last week—five hundred thousand dollars, noted as "Clinic Special Fund."

The third was a pre-admission letter from an elite private school. Listed under "Parents of Applicant": Vincenzo Rossi and Camilla Sterling. A handwritten note in the remarks column: "Seat reserved for family heir confirmed."

Finally, Chloe pulled a separate document from her briefcase and slid it across. The cover was stamped with Voluntary Waiver of All Property and Rights. The family crest was embossed in gold, garish and sharp.

"Sign this," she said, "and you sever all ties with the Rossi family. But it also means you might walk away with nothing."

I didn't hesitate. I flipped to the last page and signed my name. The sound of pen on paper was soft, but it felt like the final chain breaking.

A strange lightness rose within me. Leaving didn't require summoning great courage after all. You just had to see clearly—see how the people you once treasured had trampled your heart underfoot.

"I need a new identity," I said, pushing the document back. "Before the charity gala."

"Already in progress." Chloe gathered the papers. "You'll be safe, Gianna. I promise."

On my way back, I took a detour past the ice cream shop we used to frequent. Through the window, a young couple shared an enormous chocolate sundae. The girl laughed as she wiped a smear of cream from the corner of the boy's mouth.

We were like that once. But those images couldn't hurt me anymore.

Back at the mansion, I pushed open the study door. Vincenzo stood with his back to me, on the phone. Hearing the sound, he hung up quickly and turned with a smile already in place.

"You seem to be going out a lot lately, baby." He walked over, wrapped his arms around my waist, and pulled me into his embrace. His chin rested on top of my head, but his voice carried a probing edge. "Where've you been?"

"Looking for something to do," I said calmly. "Maybe volunteer at a charity."

His body stiffened for just a moment. Then he released me, his fingers gripping my chin, forcing me to look up at him.

"You're the godmother of the Rossi family." His thumb traced my lower lip. His tone was gentle, but his eyes were assessing. "Why bother with all that? If you're bored, I'll take you to Milan next week for the fashion shows."

He was still trying to mold me into a dependent trophy wife. He had no idea I was about to tear everything he had to shreds with my own hands.

I didn't respond. Just then, his phone on the desk lit up. A new message preview appeared. The sender was my mother:

"Final gala arrangements confirmed. I'll bring Liam to Gianna at the Rose Terrace. Awaiting your confirmation on the pier agreement."

My nails dug deep into my palms. The pain pushed down the scream rising in my throat.

"What's wrong?" Vincenzo asked. "You don't look well."

"Just tired." I stepped out of his arms. "Going to lie down for a bit."

Late that night, he left again, citing "urgent business." Chloe's people sent a message with a blurry photo: Vincenzo's car parked outside my parents' villa. The caption read: "Four-person meeting in progress. Topic: Gala arrangements and child introduction."

I lay in bed, my hand brushing the empty pillow beside me. It still carried traces of his aftershave—a scent that once made me feel safe. Now it only turned my stomach.

My phone vibrated beneath the pillow. An encrypted message from Chloe, just one line: "Everything in place. The stage is set for you."

I rose and walked to the window. Moonlight filtered through the glass, casting pale squares on the floor.

I stood there for a long time in silence.

The charity gala. The Rose Terrace. And the price tag on the pier agreement.

They thought I would play along. Accept the child, maintain a respectable marriage, continue being a powerless godmother.

But not this time. I wouldn't follow anyone else's script.

This time, I would show every last one of them exactly what a woman who has been utterly betrayed is capable of.