It had been five years since I last set foot on DeLuca turf. They didn't even attend my wedding. But when it was Elena's wedding? They were all there, all smiles, kissing cheeks and raising glasses. She got their blessings. I got silence.
Even inside the Moretti compound, I never felt like I belonged. My parents always doted on my younger sister. I spent years trying to earn just a sliver of their attention. But I could never compete. Elena always outshone me.
Bitterness clung to the back of my throat.
Even Damiano… he was supposed to be my sanctioned match, but all his affection? It was for her.
I used to think Dante loved me. That maybe, just maybe, he chose me. But no. He loved Elena too.
I laughed bitterly, a hollow sound in the silence of the empty hallway.
Everyone I ever loved… loved her more.
And now?
This will be the last time I ever see my parents again.
The birthday banquet was held on a lavish private yacht. I arrived with Dante and Elena, boarding the deck under the blinding lights and fake smiles.
My parents met us, beaming, but their eyes were only on Elena and Dante. I was just there. Invisible. But I've gotten used to that, so I stayed quiet.
"Our sweet little girl, look at you, you're getting thinner," my Marlowe said as she kissed Elena's cheek, her fingers rising to the pearls at her throat, her expression filled with worry. "I know it's hard to lose your baby, sweetheart. But don't worry, I'll keep praying, I'll light a candle every Sunday that you'll get pregnant again, strong and healthy."
My father, Carlo, wrapped Elena in a tight embrace, like he hadn't seen her in years. That hug. God, how I wished he'd hold me like that, even just once.
"You need to eat more, sweetheart. A lot more," Father said, then turned to Dante, who was doting on Elena like she was the air he breathed. "And you, give us a grandchild soon, and take care of our girl. We love her so much."
"I know, Don Carlo. For your daughter, I'd do anything. I love her more than anything in this world."
Those were the same words Dante once told me. "I'd do anything for your happiness," he said. But he never said he loved me. Not like that.
My eyes stung. Something inside me pulled tight, the way it always did when the silence around me became louder than everything else.
No one wanted us. Not even my own blood. No one except Vittorio.