Chapter 3

Today seemed destined to be another day of pain. Amelia often wondered if her father had ever truly loved her. Before her mother's untimely death, he had been affectionate, caring, and kind. But everything changed on that fateful day she gave up her ghost.

Her father approached the dining room table with slow, deliberate steps, and Leah rushed to his side. 

"Dad, she spilled spaghetti all over the table, and you know how much I can't stand it," Leah said, clutching his arm tightly. His gaze shifted back to Amelia, who kept her eyes fixed on the floor, unable to meet his piercing stare.

"Is it true?" he questioned, moving closer to where she stood, causing her to tremble involuntarily.

"I... I... didn't..." Amelia's words were cut off abruptly as a sharp slap struck her cheek, leaving a painful stinging sensation. She instinctively cradled her throbbing cheek with trembling hands.

"You're a witch. You always bring disaster wherever you go. Can't you be less evil?" her father spat out angrily.

"Was this the man who had brought her into this world?" Amelia wondered through a haze of pain.

If someone had told her he wasn't her father, she wouldn't have hesitated to believe them. No father could harbor such intense hatred for his daughter, the way he did for Amelia.

Before Amelia could utter a single word, another harsh slap struck her right cheek, causing her to hiccup as tears welled up in her eyes. Leah stood nearby, wearing a sinister smile on her face.

"How many times have I warned you about being clumsy while serving Leah's food? You know how much she despises any form of dirt, and yet you did it deliberately," her father's voice thundered, filled with anger.

Amelia kept her head lowered, knowing that speaking up would only further enrage him. So she remained silent, choosing not to say anything at all.

Get the hell out of here!" he bellowed, his voice filled with rage, and Amelia hurriedly scurried to her cramped room.

Her room was incredibly tiny, furnished with an old wooden bed, a worn-out wardrobe, and an overall shabby appearance. She never had new clothes, only hand-me-downs that were worn and tattered. Since her mother's passing, Amelia had lost all reason to smile. The constant lack of food had taken a toll on her, leaving her looking frail and emaciated.

Once inside, she locked the door behind her and moved closer to the wall, sinking as she buried her face in her hands and sobbed uncontrollably. It was painful to witness the sudden transformation of her father, who once showered her with love, into a monstrous figure who seemed to despise her.

"I can't... go on living like this," she muttered through her tears. Determination mingled with sorrow as she made up her mind that evening to make a drastic decision when everyone was asleep.

"At least I'll be happy again, reunited with Mom. I won't feel any more pain," she said, mustering a sad smile as she slowly wiped away her tears and made her way to her small, folded bed.

*********

Meanwhile, in Italy, Natalia lay on her bed in her husband's mansion, after the scene broke out at "De Santos Chop Restaurant." Her body was hidden beneath the dishevelled duvet, and in scorching pain from her scalp, Caleb nearly ripped her hair off her scalp at the restaurant. Tears streamed down her face, as was her routine, and the door remained locked.

"Young Mrs, please, dinner is ready," a maid implored, tapping gently on the door. However, her calls were met with silence, leaving her with a heavy-hearted sigh.

This was a recurring scene within the mansion's walls. Natalia had never experienced true happiness since her marriage to Caleb. The union had been a tumultuous one, as her parents had taken away the one she truly loved.

Tonight, she resolved to put an end to it all. In a moment of selfishness, she disregarded Adrain's feelings and focused solely on herself. Life had become meaningless to her.

"Please, just go away," she whispered weakly, her voice cracking from the weight of her tears.

"I can't leave, young Mrs. Sir Caleb will dismiss me if you don't have dinner," the maid pleaded, desperately knocking on the door. However, Natalia remained unmoved, not budging an inch.

"As if he cares. If he truly cared about me, he wouldn't have treated me the way he did at the restaurant," she spoke a little louder than before, her words carrying a hint of frustration.

“Please, young Mrs, I don't want to lose my job," the maid pleaded with a mix of desperation and concern, her eyes filled with worry. 

Natalia let out a weary sigh. It was always like this—she possessed a forgiving nature and a kind heart.

"Fine," she muttered, dragging herself lazily from the bed and shuffling towards the door. She was dressed in a thin singlet and a pair of shorts. She opened the door slowly, and a flicker of excitement brightened the maid's face. 

"Thank you, young Mrs. I know how you must be feeling right now. I'm sorry for all sir has been doing to you ma'am," she exclaimed, her voice filled with emotions. Natalia forced a smile in response. 

“Thank you.” She said simply.

Together, they made their way downstairs. As expected, the dining table was adorned with an array of dishes. Natalia took her seat and patiently waited for the maid to serve her meal. She began to eat slowly, savouring each bite.

Caleb never joined her in the dining room. Instead, he preferred his meals to be brought to him upstairs. It was a stark reflection of his deep disdain for Natalia.

"I hope you like the food," the head maid said, attempting to distract Natalia from her troubling thoughts.

"Yes, yes, I like it. It's delicious," Natalia responded, trying to focus on her meal. However, her momentary respite was shattered when the front door swung open, revealing the face of the man she despised with every fibre of her being. He was walking so casually, that she felt like stabbing him with the fork in her hands.

"Hello, wifey,” he called, and like she was possessed. Natalia took the fork in her hands, stood up, and walked as fast as lightning. She raised the fork to his chest and was about to stab him, but he held her hands in the air.