“Please… he’s just a child,” she said softly. “Ever since that cursed urn appeared, he’s been terrified. He has nightmares.” Her voice dropped into something quieter, sharper. “Nightmares about her… about what she did.”
Someone in the crowd whispered, “The urn…? Oh God…”
I barely moved my lips when I spoke.
“The cursed urn…” I whispered, “was my son. The one you all destroyed.”
No one heard me.
Or maybe they chose not to.
Then Vincenzo came.
He pushed through the crowd like a weapon finding its target. Before I could even react, his hand locked around my arm and yanked me forward.
“You really think you can humiliate me in front of my men?” he snapped. “In front of Lena?”
His voice rose, sharp with rage. “You ruin everything you touch.”
His hand struck my face.
The impact snapped my head to the side. I tasted blood immediately.
Still, I didn’t step back.
Lena gasped softly, playing her role perfectly.
“Baby… don’t hurt her,” she said faintly. “She’s still the mother of your child…”
Her hand drifted to her stomach like a blessing.
Vincenzo’s mother arrived last, dripping in jewelry, standing like she was judging my execution rather than attending an event.
“Divorce her immediately, Vincenzo,” she said coldly. “I won’t allow trash like her to carry our name.”
That was when I finally lifted my head.
“No need,” I said, my voice shaking but steady enough to be heard. “The papers were filed this morning. You can keep your son. I don’t want anything from this family anymore.”
Vincenzo froze.
Confusion. Shock. Something like fear flickered across his face.
Before he could speak, his mother stepped forward and slapped me so hard my ears rang.
“How dare you talk like you have a choice?” she hissed. “You should be grateful we ever accepted you!”
Whispers erupted instantly around us.
“She should be locked away.”
“She’s unstable.”
“She’s losing her mind.”
“She won’t survive without them.”
My phone buzzed.
One message lit up the screen:
Divorce approved.
For a moment, everything blurred.
Then I smiled.
Small. Sharp. Dangerous.
I wiped the blood from my lip, lifted my chin, and walked toward the gates.
Vincenzo’s voice shouted after me.
“Olivia! Where do you think you’re going?”
I didn’t turn around.
“Somewhere you’ll never control me again,” I said.
He moved like he was going to order someone to stop me—but Lena suddenly gasped and collapsed just in time, perfectly timed, perfectly fragile.
Chaos erupted.