Chapter 4

Hearing my vulgar words, my mother did not bother to say anything more. I gave her a smirk before I once again entered the dressing room to change back into my normal black dress.

I walked out of the changing room with the dress resting in my arm as I once again went to the register girl to pay for the dress. Without any more delay, my mother paid for the dress, and the girl wrapped it beautifully and placed it in a bag before she handed it to me.

“Thank you for shopping with us.” I thanked her and walked out of the store with my mother seething in anger behind me, her hands in a tight fist.

Did they really think I would pay for a wedding dress that was not of my own choosing? Sometimes I wondered how these people managed to finish school and get a degree. They assumed the people around them were all fools while they were the only smart ones.

Once we returned home, I went to the kitchen directly, not bothering to talk to the three species that were sitting in the living room waiting for me to report to them about the trip to the store.

“Marta, let me show you how hot I look in my wedding dress,” I said as I put down the bag in my hand and opened the picture app on my phone.

They had talked about the contract marriage my parents had forced on me. I had nothing I needed to hide from them, so I did not see anything wrong with showing them the different stages I had to go through before the wedding itself — at least I had supportive people who behaved like normal parents should behave.

“Show me, darling. Why did you not tell me you were trying on your wedding dress?” Marta abandoned what she was doing by the stove and sat down next to me.

She placed a small cake in front of me while she took my phone and started to look at the photos eagerly. I stared at the small cake and felt the unfamiliar warmth in my heart again. For years I have battled with eating disorders and body dysmorphia — two conditions that had tortured me since my younger days because of my parents’ disgusting comments on my body.

I have not always been skinny,actually, it was not until my nineteenth birthday that Marta saw something was wrong with me and took me to the hospital. I was diagnosed with an eating disorder. Over the past years, thanks to her care, I regained some weight and was diagnosed as healthy enough to not need medications. Some days were harder than others, but Marta never failed to make me eat in smaller quantities without making it feel like a lot.

The cake in front of me was so small that a normal person could eat it in one go, yet for me it would take almost thirty minutes to finish it without getting sick. I decided not to comment on it and took the cake, taking a bite. The warm and soft cake melted in my mouth almost instantly, leaving a sweet but not overly sugary almond taste behind. My eyes widened with happiness as I did a little dance. Almond was my favorite.

“Marta, this tastes amazing. Now you have to make it for me every day,” I said with a pout as I leaned against her shoulder, which earned me a small kiss on my forehead.

After finishing my cake, I left the kitchen and wanted to go to my room in order to shower and change my clothes, but a faint and sweet voice stopped me in my steps.

“Sister, are you still angry? Is that why you do not want to talk with us? I promise you I did not know Father would ask you to sign the contract when I refused, or else I would have signed it.”

Her voice sank in sadness as she stared at me with eyes that glimmered with tears. I so wanted to slap her right now. What was there to cry about when everything was done? Who else would Father ask other than me when she refused to sign the contract?

Pretending bitch. All of them were actors disguised as wealthy socialites.

“She is lucky to marry Luciano. Dear, what does this have to do with you? A murderer like her can only marry a murderer like him. Stop crying, I hate to see you cry,” a man said as he embraced the trembling beauty next to him.

Did they really have to disgust me exactly after I had just eaten one of the world’s best desserts? Adrian was my ex‑fiancé and a man worthy of everything bad that could happen on this earth. Four years ago, when the rape incident happened, he had locked me in a storage room to stop me from reporting the matter to the police, yet when I found the man who had raped me and split his throat — I became the villain in their story. Was that not funny?

They were the saints while I, the victim, was the villain. Ironic, really.

The man had not actually raped me, but the thought of his hands on my body mocked me the moment I saw him laughing with his friends. He had almost ruined me, yet my father had pardoned him and allowed him to return to his guard position.

He had no right to pardon the man who almost raped me — it was not him who screamed and begged in that room.

Before I could answer their remarks, Melinda spoke again with the same weak but now fainter voice, as if she was scared I would snap her neck the second she finished talking.

“Maybe… maybe sister, he is not as most people say he is…”

I stared at her with my heated gaze.

“Shut up. If he was not that bad, why did you not marry him? It will do you well to remember — do not speak to me until I leave, or I might split your throat the same way I did back then.” I said before I turned around and walked up the stairs to my room — leaving behind her loud cry in shock.

It did not matter if Luciano was hell. I had long grown used to the pit of fire since the day I was born.