My scream tore through the room, raw and animalistic, as pain erupted everywhere at once. My vision blurred instantly as I tried to fling it away, my entire body shaking uncontrollably.
"Pathetic," one of them sneered.
"She really thought we wanted to help her."
"You deserve this," another voice added coldly. "And we'll make sure you keep suffering as long as you're here."
Their words echoed in my head as everything spun.
A maid rushed in at the sound of my screams, her face going pale as she hurried to help me, brushing away the hive, swatting away the remaining insects. The woman's hands were practiced, efficient, the way all household staff in the Montecarlo compound learned to clean up messes without asking questions.
"What kind of cruelty is this?" she snapped at them, her voice trembling with anger.
"Shut up, maid!" they hissed back in unison.
Alessia turned her gaze to me one last time, her eyes sharp and unforgiving. She went completely motionless, not a blink, not a breath, before she spoke.
"Know your place, Seraphina," she said coldly. "And it's not here."
Then they left.
Just like that.
Leaving me behind.
Broken.
Shaking.
Crawling on the floor like I was nothing.
"I'm sorry, Miss, do you need—" the maid began softly.
"Just go," I rasped, my voice barely holding together.
She hesitated, then left.
Slowly, painfully, I dragged myself back up, crawling toward the mirror, gripping its edge as if it were the only thing keeping me from collapsing completely.
This wasn't me.
This couldn't be my life.
And that was the moment I made the call.
I didn't pack anything.
Didn't take a single possession.
Just my phone.
And my wallet.
On the wall, Catarina's photograph stared back at me. Perfect. Beautiful. Untouchable. Framed in dark wood beside a votive candle that someone in the household kept lit, the way the Montecarlo family honored their dead.
I reached out, my fingers brushing lightly against the frame, my chest tightening painfully.
They didn't know.
They didn't know she stole Enzo from me.
They didn't know she begged me, begged me, to keep the truth hidden.
That I was their real mother.
That I gave everything up for them.
Everything.
My left hand found my wrist and pressed hard against the bare skin where my mother's bracelet once sat, fingers digging in until the ache bloomed through bone.