Lena wore white. Pearls flowed down her hair like a crown. She looked untouched, innocent, untouchable.
No one spoke to me.
No one even glanced in my direction before we left.
**
At the estate, cameras exploded in flashes the moment we arrived. Reporters swarmed like a storm breaking at the gates.
Vincenzo stepped out first, straightening his cuffs, playing his role perfectly—the devoted husband, the powerful man.
He opened Lena’s door himself.
She stepped out slowly, like the world had been built just for her entrance.
Noel followed, holding her hand.
I stepped out last, my shoes sinking slightly into the gravel.
“Don’t speak unless spoken to,” Vincenzo said quietly without looking at me.
I nodded.
He didn’t look back.
**
Inside, the ballroom glittered like a different world. Gold chandeliers hung above us like dripping jewels. Music floated through the air, soft and expensive.
Vincenzo raised his glass.
“Everyone,” he announced, “this is Lena. The woman who will carry my future forward.”
Applause erupted instantly.
Lena lowered her head gracefully, pretending to be shy, though her posture said otherwise.
“And this,” Vincenzo continued, pulling Noel forward, “is my heir.”
The room clapped louder.
Vincenzo’s parents embraced Noel like he was something sacred.
I stood near the edge of the room, half-hidden among coats and shadows. Easily ignored. Easily forgotten.
“Who is she?” someone asked near the dessert table.
Vincenzo’s mother answered without hesitation.
“Oh, her?” she said lightly. “Just the former wife. Couldn’t even raise her own child properly. A sickly boy she kept hidden. No one really knows what became of him.”
Lena placed a hand over her chest, pretending sympathy.
“Gabriel is still recovering,” she said gently. “He wasn’t strong enough to travel.” Then she turned to me with a perfect look of pity. “Poor Olivia… still grieving.”
She leaned in and kissed Vincenzo’s cheek.
My nails dug into my palms until it hurt.
A waiter accidentally knocked over a dessert stand. A silver tray crashed to the floor, the sound echoing through the hall.
Laughter followed immediately—Vincenzo’s father the loudest of all.
“We’re here to celebrate,” he said loudly, then pointed at me. “Let her clean it up. She’s used to it.”
Some guests chuckled.
Lena stepped forward smoothly, voice sweet as syrup.