Chapter 3

A text message confirming the purchase of a cemetery plot jolted me back from the icy depths of memory to the harsh reality of the present. I shook my head with a bitter smile and turned toward Sophia's room. Before I could take a step, a hand gripped my arm with sudden, jarring force.

I turned to find Alex standing there, breathless. His eyes were rimmed with red, perhaps from the haste of his arrival.

"Ella... you finally... you're finally willing to come back."

I didn't answer him. Instead, I followed his guilt-ridden gaze down to my right leg. I had almost forgotten how it looked to others.

Three years ago, Sophia "accidentally" tumbled down the stairs. She missed the crucial international ballet auditions and made a grand, weeping show of trying to slit her wrists. In a blind rage, Alex sent his men to find me. They used an iron pipe to shatter my leg.

He knew exactly what that audition meant to me. He knew the blood, sweat, and years I had poured into my craft. I was on the verge of stepping into the spotlight, ready to fulfill the stage dreams my mother never got to complete. But everything vanished into a cloud of pain and the sickening sound of snapping bone.

Later, while I lay in a hospital bed, Alex walked over from Sophia's room. He looked down at me with a cold, detached expression.

"Ella, there is always a price to pay for doing wrong," he had said.

In that moment, the urge to explain myself died. I simply wept in numb silence. He mistook my tears for remorse and softened his voice.

"Ella, once your leg heals, I'll take you to see the sunset over the Aegean Sea."

I had dreamed of that sunset for years. I never imagined it would be offered as a consolation prize for my mangled limb. I couldn't even cry anymore. I just took out my phone. He thought I was booking tickets to Greece, but I was actually looking for a boat out of San Nidevoid.

Seeing my continued silence made Alex's face cloud with guilt. "Where have you been over these years? Have you been well?"

"I've been fine," I replied.

After leaving San Nidevoid, I went to the Tuscan countryside that my mother used to describe. Once my leg healed enough to walk, I began treatment with a specialist. I was fighting two battles: severe depression and late-stage stomach cancer.

On the day of my diagnosis, the doctor leaned forward. "Miss Corleone, you need your family to support you now. Being loved is the best medicine for depression."

I looked down at the fresh scars on my wrists. I forgot to tell the doctor that I didn't have a family. When he saw my silence, he pressed on with a grave tone.

"Late-stage stomach cancer... You have three years at most. Miss Corleone, I hope you find some happiness in the time you have left."

But I hadn't truly smiled since my mother died. Whether my final days were happy or not didn't seem to matter much anymore.

"You—" Alex started to speak, but he was cut off by Sophia's sudden appearance.

"Alex, why are you still here? The Godfather has been waiting for you in the study for a long time."

Alex seemed to snap out of a trance. He looked at me with a complex, unreadable expression before turning to follow Sophia's insistent prodding.

As soon as he was gone, the softness vanished from Sophia's voice. She glared at me, her true nature rising to the surface. "Ella, I can't believe you actually dared to come back."

She stepped closer, her eyes narrowing. "Are you here specifically to ruin my wedding?"

The corners of my mouth curled into a mocking smile. "What, does my return scare you?"

A flash of pure malice flickered in Sophia's eyes. In this private moment, she tore off her mask of innocence. "I managed to drive you away once. Do you really think this time will be any different?"

She hadn't changed at all. She was still the same girl who played the victim in public while baring her fangs in private. Unfortunately for her, things weren't going to go according to her plan this time. I wasn't leaving.

I didn't feel like wasting words on her. I got straight to the point. "Give me back the wedding dress."

Sophia froze for a few seconds before breaking into a sharp, piercing laugh. "Ella, the Godfather and Luca gave that dress to me a long time ago. What right do you have to ask for it back? Besides, I'm about to marry Alex."

She held up her left hand, flaunting the ancient ring on her ring finger—the heirloom that signified her status as the future bride of the Rossi family.

"Ella, everything that was yours now belongs to me."

I stared at her blankly. To me, she looked utterly ridiculous. Since the day Sophia was brought into our home, she had clawed for everything I owned: my clothes, my bedroom, my family's attention, and even my title as the Corleone daughter.

But now? Now, I couldn't care less.