The scent of espresso was sharp in the air, but no one was here for breakfast.

Gianna sat at the head of the table, flipping through the morning paper like it owed her something. Alessia scrolled on her phone, nails tapping like gunfire on glass.

Then came the sound of laughter—light, practiced, unmistakable.

Valentina glided into the dining room like it was a runway built just for her. She wore Dante’s shirt. White. Crisp. Buttoned just enough to be smug. The sleeves hung past her hands, and still—it fit her like a claim.

She didn’t wear shoes. Her bare feet made soft kisses on the marble floor, but her steps landed like gunshots in my chest.

“Morning,” she sang, stretching as if she hadn’t stolen sleep that didn’t belong to her.

Gianna smiled, eyes never leaving the paper. “Sleep well, darling?”

“Like a dream,” Valentina purred, pouring herself coffee from the silver pot I had laid out. “This house has the softest pillows… and firmest company.”

Her gaze flicked to me—one second, no longer. Just enough to remind me of where I stood. Or rather, where I didn’t.

She took Dante’s chair.

Not the one across from me. Not beside Gianna.

His.

“Still playing house, Aria?” Her voice was syrupy sweet, masking venom like a well-cut diamond hides a flaw. “You know he only married you out of duty, right?”

Alessia didn’t wait to pile on. “You should be grateful. If Dad hadn’t insisted, you’d be rotting in some orphanage.” She tossed a slice of melon onto her plate like it offended her. Her eyes glittered with disdain.

Gianna’s voice, barely louder than the stir of her spoon, slid through the air like poison. “I can still arrange that.”

I didn’t speak. I smiled. I poured another cup. My hands stayed steady even when my name was dragged through the dirt beneath their polished heels.

Dante entered then. Sharp suit, colder stare. He didn’t pause, didn’t nod, didn’t even pretend I existed.

“Don’t wait up,” he said, grabbing the coffee I’d just made. “We’ll be out late.”

We. Not me and him. Him and Valentina.

Valentina smiled like a queen stepping into a coronation. She placed a hand on his arm with such casual claim that it stung more than a slap.

“See you tonight, future husband.”

She lingered on the word like it belonged to her now. Maybe it did.

I could’ve shattered the porcelain cup just to hear it break. Just to prove something fragile still had power. But I didn’t. Instead, I tilted my head and said, “Enjoy your charity case.”

“Excuse me?” Her tone cracked around the edges. That was enough. I sipped my coffee ignoring her.

After breakfast I busied myself with dishes I hadn’t used, scrubbing a spotless counter just to keep my hands from curling into fists.

Behind me, Gianna stirred her tea with a clink that sounded like judgment.

“There’s something off about the salt today,” she muttered, though no one asked.

Alessia poked at her eggs with a perfectly manicured finger. “Is this supposed to be soft-boiled? It’s tragic, really.”

I rinsed a plate that was already clean.

Gianna sighed. “You’d think with all the time she spends here, she’d learn how to season properly.”

I said nothing. Just adjusted the silverware. I turned away, walked to the sink, and scrubbed it like I could erase every word they left behind.

Gianna clucked her tongue behind me. “She gets so sensitive. Honestly, it’s exhausting.”

But I wasn’t cleaning up after them. Not anymore.

I dried the cup. Set it aside. Stared at it like it was a ritual I’d finally finished.

Upstairs, the hallway stretched long and silent, shadows dragging like heavy gowns.

I passed the mirrors. My reflection looked back like a stranger—composed, pretty, erased.

The house was quiet now. Too quiet. A kind of silence that made you hear everything you weren’t meant to.

My steps slowed near the second floor. I wasn’t listening. I was simply… there.

Then I heard it. Their door wasn’t fully closed. Just open enough to let the sound bleed out.

Valentina’s laugh—low, lilting, sickeningly soft.

“You’re terrible,” she whispered, voice laced with silk.

Then his voice followed, low and sure, intimate in a way that once belonged to me.

“I’ll make her sign the papers. Soon.”