Chapter 3

As I pulled my suitcase downstairs, the wheels rolled over the gravel path, making a soft scraping sound.

That sound was jarring in the Moretti estate.

I had just reached the entrance hall when my steps halted.

Dante and Celine were standing by the door, talking about something.

Dante looked at the suitcase, one eyebrow slightly raised, as if watching a childish performance.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"I have nothing left to say to you," I said calmly.

"Elara, please don't do this." Celine frowned, trying to mediate. "If you have grievances, we can slowly—"

"Enough." Dante cut her off without even looking at her. "Stay out of this."

He turned his gaze back to my face, his eyes like those of someone judging a disobedient child.

"Still sulking?" His tone carried a hint of impatience. "Elara, how long are you going to keep this up?"

Keep this up.

So once again, I was the one causing problems.

Dante took a step forward and scolded me: "As my future wife, how can you be this childish?" He continued, "Running away from home the moment things don't go your way? Do you think you're some troubled teenager?"

I stayed silent.

So in his eyes, a heart turned to ash looked like childishness.

Celine chimed in again with her hollow concern. "Godfather, perhaps Elara just needs some time to adjust to the family's procedures..."

"I said, leave her alone." Dante's voice grew colder. "Let her go."

He even sighed. "She'll be back in a few days anyway." He looked at me and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Nico is still waiting for her at the hospital. Where can she possibly go?"

A ringing filled my ears.

Nico is still waiting for me at the hospital.

He could actually say something like that.

A dull ache spread through my chest, but I didn't tell him the truth.

He didn't need to know anymore. I only wanted them to pay.

"Yes," I said, no longer arguing. "You're right."

I didn't spare him a second glance.

I turned, pulled my suitcase, and walked toward the door.

Behind me, Celine was still speaking in that nauseating, fake voice: "Elara, don't go..."

Dante called her back. They exchanged a few more words.

Dante didn't come after me.

He never would.

He would only wait for me to come back on my own, to knock on his door as I always had, crying and saying, "I was wrong."

But this time, I wouldn't.

I got into the car and started the engine.

I pressed the gas pedal, and the car sped away.

Leaving the estate wasn't hard. Leaving the family was.

Leaving the family would cost me.

Leaving the family wasn't as simple as dragging a suitcase out the door.

Those raised by the Moretti family, if they wanted their names erased from the registry, had to leave behind a mark.

They wanted everyone to know: you had been expelled. From now on, you had nothing to do with the Moretti family.

I parked in front of an unremarkable old building on the outskirts of the city.

No one asked why I was there.

They only glanced at me once. "Elara Vail." Someone read my name aloud. "Confirming your departure from the Moretti family?"

I nodded.

"Confirming you accept the price voluntarily?"

I nodded again.

They led me into a room with blinding lights.

Someone pressed down on my shoulder—not hard, but with an unmistakable authority. Another handed me a cloth, gesturing for me to bite down.

I didn't take it.

I bit my lower lip until it went white, swallowing any sound that might escape.

Then the searing heat came down, sinking into my skin inch by inch.

My fingertips went numb instantly. My throat instinctively wanted to scream. But I forced it back down.

I closed my eyes. Only one image remained in my mind.

Nico lying in the hospital bed, his face pale, his eyes still struggling to look at me.

That image had tormented me for three straight nights.

He didn't blame me. But he was waiting for me.

Waiting for me to save him.

Waiting for me to bring him home.

But he never got to wait long enough.

The burning on my arm grew more and more intense. Just when I thought I couldn't bear it any longer, I finally heard someone say: "It's done."

I opened my eyes. My vision blurred for a moment. A savage scar now marked my arm.

But I didn't regret it. Because this meant—

From this moment on, I no longer belonged to them.

When I stood, my legs buckled. I grabbed the edge of the table to steady myself. Someone tried to help me. I raised my hand and waved them off.

I rolled down my sleeve, covering the burning wound, and dragged my suitcase out of the building.

Back in the car, my fingers rested on the steering wheel for a long time before I had the strength to grip it.

Then I took out my phone.

The screen's glow lit up my pale face and the name in my contacts.

Graham Walker.

The phone rang once. Twice.

I took a deep breath and pressed down the tremor in my throat.

"Professor Graham, it's me, Elara Vail." I paused, trying to sound like someone still capable of normal conversation. "I want to ask you something."

"Elara? Are you alright?"

"I need a job," I said. "Can I join your team? I'll do anything."

He hesitated. "I have great respect for your abilities, but you know, your identity..."

"I'm no longer part of the Moretti family, Professor." I gripped the phone tighter.

"I don't need special treatment." I added, my voice low but firm. "I just need a chance."

The night wind slapped against the car window like someone knocking on the glass.

"I can give you that, but you need to understand—geological surveying is grueling work," Professor Graham reminded me.

"I can handle it."

"Then you can report tomorrow. Welcome aboard, Elara."

I thanked him and hung up.

I knew that from this moment on, Dante and I no longer had any connection.