Chapter 2

Lucia had grown used to silence. The kind that weighed heavier than words ever could. It filled the halls of the mansion like a ghost she could never banish. Once, she had imagined those walls echoing with laughter. Her son's giggles, her husband's teasing voice, her own humming as she prepared dinner.

But now, all she ever heard was Sandra's laugh. Sweet and poisonous. Coming from the room that used to be hers.

She sat at the corner of the dining table that night, untouched plate in front of her. Marco didn't even look her way. Sandra wore Lucia's favorite silk robe, playfully feeding him pieces of roasted chicken. As if this was her house, her marriage, her life.

Thomas giggled, sitting beside Sandra. "Mommy, can I have some juice?"

Lucia froze. The word cut deeper than any blade.

Sandra smiled sweetly and poured him a glass, pretending not to notice Lucia's trembling hands. "Of course, baby."

Marco looked up for the first time, his eyes cold. "Why are you staring like that, Lucia? You're making everyone uncomfortable."

"Everyone?" she whispered, her voice breaking. "You mean the woman sleeping in my bed? My sister?"

Marco smirked. "Don't start your drama. You've always been like this. Boring, controlling, lifeless. Sandra makes me feel alive."

Her throat burned, but no words came. She pushed her chair back slowly and left the table, holding onto the edge of the wall just to steady herself.

In the hallway, she could still hear Sandra's laughter echoing. It used to be her favorite sound.

Not anymore.

***

The next morning, Lucia went to her parents' house, holding onto one last thread of hope.

Her mother opened the door, eyes widening when she saw Lucia's pale face.

"Mom, I need to talk," Lucia whispered.

"What now?" her mother sighed, folding her arms.

"It's Sandra," Lucia said, voice shaking. "She's with Marco. I saw them together. I can't stay there anymore."

Her mother's eyes flickered. Not with shock, but with irritation. "Oh, Lucia. Always exaggerating. Sandra told us everything. How you pushed Marco away, how cold you've become."

"That's not true! She betrayed me!"

Her father walked into the room, his expression unreadable. "Enough. Your sister has been helping Marco raise your son. You should be grateful."

Lucia took a step back, her heart splintering. "You're taking their side?"

Her mother scoffed. "Sandra is a good woman. She's keeping your family together. You're just jealous that your husband prefers her."

Lucia couldn't breathe. It was like the air itself had turned against her. She stumbled out of the house, tears blurring her vision.

She had no one.

Not even her family.

***

Days blurred together after that. Marco stopped pretending to care. He left her alone most nights, and when he was home, he made sure to remind her of everything she wasn't.

"You should see yourself," he said one morning as she set the table. "No wonder I fell out of love. You've become invisible."

His mother, standing by the counter, laughed cruelly. "Invisible? She's like a maid who forgot she's not paid."

Sandra strolled in, wearing Lucia's perfume. "Oh, come on, don't be too hard on her. It's not her fault she can't keep a man."

Lucia stared at the three of them. Her husband, her sister, and her mother-in-law. She realized something deep and final inside her had snapped.

That night, she packed a small bag.

When Marco came home, she was waiting in the living room, divorce papers spread neatly on the table.

He raised a brow. "What's this supposed to be?"

"My freedom," she said softly. "You can have Thomas. You've already made it clear who you want as his mother."

Marco's laughter was sharp and cruel. "You're really going through with this? Fine. But don't come crawling back when you realize no one wants a washed-up woman with nothing."

His mother smirked. "You'll beg one day, Lucia. Women like you always do."

Lucia didn't reply. She signed the papers with trembling hands and walked out of the house she had once called home.

***

Rain began to fall as she stepped onto the empty road. Her suitcase handle dug into her palm. Every step felt heavier, but she didn't stop.

By midnight, she reached a small, deserted corner of the city. Her phone was dead. Her body ached. But her mind, for the first time in years, was quiet.

Maybe peace begins when everything else ends.

But peace never came.

Two shadows emerged from the alley ahead. Then another. Three men. Their faces hidden beneath hooded jackets.

Lucia froze. "I don't have any money," she said, clutching her bag.

One of them chuckled. "Oh, we don't want your money. Someone paid us to make sure you don't talk too much."

Her heart stopped. "Sandra..."

Before she could run, one of them grabbed her from behind, his hand clamping over her mouth. The rain muffled her scream. She kicked, fought, clawed. But another hit her across the face. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth.

"Please..." she gasped.

"Should've stayed quiet," one hissed, raising a knife.

Lucia stumbled backward, her vision spinning. She tripped, falling hard against the wet pavement. The world blurred. Lights, rain, pain, fear.

The last thing she saw before darkness swallowed her was a pair of headlights cutting through the storm. A car screeching to a stop.

Someone shouted her name.

Then everything went black.