4

Gianna pov

To welcome Violetta, the DeLucas threw a party that night. It was more of a small gathering than the grand affair I’d expected. Marco’s parents were there, probably keeping an eye on their granddaughter, and Camilla was invited too. Marco had casually explained the reason why she’d be attending, but it was clear he wanted her there for more than just Violetta’s sake.

Honestly, I didn’t care about all the fake act that they had been busy showing me.

So I pretended to be sick to avoid attending, saving my stregth so that I could get myself out of here. As I tried to rest, but the noise from downstairs just kept seeping through the walls. It was too loud to ignore.

Eventually, I wheeled myself toward the stairs, trying to catch a glimpse of what is happening downstairs that could be so loud.

Marco was cutting a cake for Violetta, while Camilla rested her head on his shoulder, teasing, “Look at how cute she is.”

A picture-perfect family.

Too bad the man was my fiancé, the woman was married to someone else, and that little girl... well, she was their bastard.

Marco’s smile was pure joy as he patted the crown on Violetta’s head, murmuring, “She’s perfect, a true DeLuca princess.”

Perfect. Right.

I retreated to the room, slipping off the bracelet Marco had given me on our first anniversary, then snapped it in half.

It wasn’t like I was holding onto his love by wearing it, but back then, I guess I had hoped there was some sincerity in it. I could accept that he didn’t love me anymore, but what we’d shared—I thought that could be real, even if just a little bit of it.

But maybe I was just fooling myself.

I calmly tossed the broken bracelet into the trash and prepared for bed.

Suddenly, the door swung open. Camilla entered, flawless as always—her makeup perfect, her tailored dress hugging her body just right.

She strode across the room like she owned the place, knocking my wheelchair over with a casual swipe. My arms scraped the floor, pain shooting up my body. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I snapped.

“Oops, sorry,” she said, her voice dripping with faux innocence. “Guess I used a little too much strength.”

She ran a finger through her hair, then smiled that smug smile I hated so much. “Gianna, how are you? Still stuck in that chair, heart broken, suffering for the rest of your life? How’s it feel, really?”

“I’m fine, bitch,” I said, pushing myself up, not about to stay on the damn floor any longer.

Camilla’s smirk widened. “You’re such a coward. You knew everything, didn’t you? Yet you stayed quiet. Why? Too weak? But look at us now, Gianna. Who’s winning? Your name’s getting erased from the wedding, replaced by mine. Your husband brought our daughter back here to live with you, and you can do jack shit about it.”

I let out a dry chuckle. “Maybe you’re winning now, but who knows who’ll be laughing in the end. The game’s not over, Camilla.”

She raised an eyebrow, her smirk turning into something more sinister. “Funny you should say that,” she said, “Watch this,” She stepped back and suddenly collapsed onto the floor. Marco appeared out of nowhere, catching her just in time.

He shot me a cold, accusing look. "Gianna, did you push her?"

“Camilla's just being kind," he snapped. "If you’ve got an issue, take it up with me. Why are you trying to hurt her?"

Behind him, his parents and Violetta rushed into the room, alarmed by Camilla’s fall.

Violetta burst into tears. "Bad lady! Bad lady! I don’t want her to be my mommy! I want my mommy back!”

"Mommy! Mommy, I want mommy!" she cried.

Marco helped Camilla to her feet, and she clung to him like she couldn’t stand on her own.

“I think I twisted my ankle, Marco,” she whispered, pretending to be weak. “But don’t blame Gianna, okay? She didn’t mean to. I might have mentioned the wedding to her. Since I’m replacing her, I thought she deserved to know…”

Marco snapped, his tone sharp. “Don’t worry about telling her. It’s not like she would’ve come to the damn wedding anyway.”

I’d once loved Marco. That was why I’d been too kind to him. But I wasn’t one to suffer quietly—not then, and definitely not now.

“Marco,” I said, keeping my voice steady despite the storm inside. “The wedding. The gunfight. Violetta. Do you think you owe me at least an explanation?”

Marco turned, his eyes locking onto mine. I didn’t flinch as his gaze hardened.

“What explanation?” He raised his voice. “Gianna, you got yourself caught up in a damn gunfight over a simple negotiation. No one owes you an explanation—except yourself. Last I checked, the Moretti family was better at handling negotiations than this.”

“And the wedding?” He pressed, “The doctor said your heart is too fragile right now. You can’t handle loud noises or too much activity, Camilla was doing you a favor by taking your place. What the hell did she do wrong?”

I smiled,“Why was my heart so fragile, Marco? Tell me—what happened to it exactly?”

He spat, fury burning in his eyes. “Don’t be so damn ungrateful. If it weren’t for me, you’d be dead by now.”