I was never supposed to be his wife, not unless Dahlia hadn’t disappeared that day. I was the replacement bride. The unwanted woman in this house. The useful Overseer in his Syndicate.
And now, as the envelope slipped closed again, a tear slid down my face.
Now I would be a divorced ex-Donna.
“No one ever chooses me…” I whispered, staring at the plate meant for him, shoved toward me like scraps.
“I choose myself this time, Reynold. By leaving you.”
I never had a pleasant life. Like, at all. Or maybe I did, but it vanished when I was fifteen.
“You’re not my daughter. You belong to the elder bloodline of the Lombardi Familia.”
Those were my mother’s final words before she died.
She confessed everything in front of the very people she claimed were my true parents. I didn’t even get a moment to mourn.
The truth broke open and the Lombardi elders heard it, along with a ranking member of the Commission who happened to be present.
To contain the scandal amongst ourselves, they confirmed the story and fed explanations I never asked for. Nothing eased the shock in my chest, or the anger boiling beneath it.
“We had to set you aside, Valentine,” said Dina, the woman who gave birth to me. “Our family holds influence. We had to protect our name, and that meant presenting Dahlia as the legitimate Lombardi heir.”
“We couldn’t let someone without standing represent this Familia. You wouldn’t want to be the reason we became a joke, right?” my father added, as if discarding me had been a favor. “And this truth must stay buried.”
I said nothing. My heart had already gone cold.
“Does this mean you’re taking her back, Dad?” Dahlia asked. Her tone was calm, but her calculating eyes were sharply locked on me. She was always like that. Sweet mask, with venom underneath.
“No,” my father replied. “We can’t do that. It would unravel everything we’ve spent years covering.”
Then he turned to me and took my hand. “But we’ll support you. We can send you to school, Valentine. We’ll cover everything.”
That moment told me everything. They would never claim me as their daughter, be it publicly or privately. Still, they funded my schooling. I convinced myself that was enough.
I used to envy Dahlia. She had everything. My bloodline. My rightful place. Even the man I loved.