“Fine,” I said, my tone empty. “If you’re serious about making it right, start with my birthday. A real one this time. No allergens. No disappearing acts.”
He blinked, caught off guard. For years, my birthdays had been afterthoughts—rushed dinners, canceled plans, excuses wrapped in silk and diamonds.
After a pause, he nodded.
“Okay. Whatever you want.”
Before he could say more, his phone vibrated. That specific alert—the one reserved for her—rang out. He glanced down, jaw tightening as the screen lit up.
“I need to take this,” he said quickly. “It’s urgent. I’ll be back soon. Don’t stay up.”
The lie was transparent.
“Go,” I said, waving him away. “I’m used to being left.”
He hesitated, then turned and walked out, leaving me alone with the dying embers of something that should’ve ended long ago.
By morning, the mansion was alive with movement. Decorators, planners, and caterers swarmed the halls, arranging flowers and centerpieces. As the hours passed, dread settled in my stomach. The layout, the colors, the music—it was all painfully familiar.
By noon, there was no denying it. The setup mirrored Francesca’s extravagant birthday from two months earlier.
And then she arrived.
She moved like she owned the place, dressed in red silk that clung perfectly, her sweet, artificial scent filling the room.
“I hope you like everything,” she said brightly. “I handled all the details myself. Thought it suited your… preferences.”
I didn’t answer right away. My gaze dropped to the crescent-moon necklace glittering at her throat. Mine. The one Lorenzo had given me years ago, right before it vanished.
“A secondhand celebration for a secondhand woman,” I said coldly. “Fitting.”
Her smile cracked. Fury flashed across her face as she grabbed a crystal ornament and slammed it to the floor. Glass exploded outward, a shard slicing into her foot. She screamed, clutching her ankle as if mortally wounded.
Lorenzo rushed in seconds later, eyes sweeping the chaos.
“What happened?”
“She—she tried to stop me,” Francesca sobbed. “I was only helping, and she—”
The slap came out of nowhere. My cheek burned, but I didn’t move. I wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.
“That’s enough!” he shouted. “She spent all day helping you, and this is how you treat her? If you hate it so much, handle it yourself!”